I can’t even begin to tell you how many times I’ve sat down to write over the last couple of months. The words always fail to make the journey from my brain to my fingers. It’s not “writer’s block”. Emotions rise and shut down everything else in the process. Grief sucks.
I’ve been able to journal somewhat, but I often feel no one wants to hear another story about my grief and so it goes unfinished and unpublished. Unfortunately, that’s about all I can share these days. It doesn’t mean that other things, good things, haven’t been happening. It’s just that sadness and loss over-shadows them all. I miss my son…
I know this is part of the process. There will come a day when sorrow won’t dim the light all around. I’m not sure when that day is, but I know that it will come. My friend Jim used to tell me that in the meantime, it’s a mean time. Until I’m farther along in this journey I’ll feel what I need to feel and try not to be hard on myself…
Although the cloud of grief is never far away there’s much to be grateful for. I’m grateful for the love and support our family has received from so many friends. I’m grateful for Opal’s Farm and the reminder that life is circular – sow, harvest, and repeat – constant resurrection. Over the last couple of months, I’ve seen Jeremy honored in ways I never expected, and I’ve been given places to sit and still my spirit comforted by Jeremy’s “presence”.
One of Jeremy’s friends and fellow artist, Jay Wilkinson, painted a twenty-foot high mural of Jeremy on the side of Hop Fusion Brewery here in Fort Worth. It captures Jeremy perfectly and I can’t think of a better place to put it. Jeremy had done the indoor murals at the brewery. When this coronavirus lets up, I hope you all get a chance to have a cold one and check out Jeremy’s work. You don’t have to wait to see Jay’s work though. Thank you, Jay. You’ve given me a special place to just “be”.
Last Saturday, Juan Valazquez finished a mural at Mananaland, a local gallery where Jeremy had been artist in residence. His likeness now graces the whole front of the building. I was unable to be there when he painted (spray painted mind you!) the piece. Thanks to Desiree, Michael, Baillie, and Adrian for representing the family.
As for my WordPress community, I miss you all. I haven’t read much the last couple of months, so I haven’t maintained contact with those I follow and vice-versa. I’m simply taking a break and letting the process take me where it needs to. Love you all and hope to see you soon.
Happy Texas Independence Day y’all! When I was growing up this was a state holiday, a day off from school. March 2nd was as important as July 4th, if not more so. My first memories of school were about Texas history classes. Learning about Stephen F. Austin, Sam Houston, and the heroes of the Alamo was one of the most important lessons to learn. Now that I’m a grown-up (that’s debatable) I think they should have been called Texas ‘myth’ classes instead. However, I’ll save that discussion for another time…
The real celebration this March 2nd is that Margaret and I have been married for seven years today. I find it difficult to put into words the joy and the love I share with this beautiful woman. Many of you know Margaret. You understand what I mean.
Margaret, I love you more with each passing day. I didn’t think that possible. I’m constantly amazed by your grace and love for others. Your love for God and your quiet strength is probably what the writer of Proverbs 31 had in mind.
“A good woman is hard to find, and worth far more than diamonds…
She’s quick to assist anyone in need, reaches out to help the poor…
When she speaks, she has something worthwhile to say, and she always says it kindly…
Her children respect and bless her; her husband joins in with words of praise: Many women have done wonderful things, but you’ve outclassed them all! Charm can mislead and beauty soon fades. The woman to be admired and praised is the woman who lives in the Fear-of-God. Give her everything she deserves! Festoon her life with praises!” (from Proverbs 31 – The Message)
Happy Anniversary Baby! I love you. It is my honor and privilege to be your husband!
Thoughts From the Porch: A stunning late winter sunrise started my morning. I drank my first cup of coffee to the varied songs of our resident Mockingbird. Nesting season has begun and my little friend sings once again, reminding me that spring in almost here. He brightened my morning even more that the rising sun.
Sometimes I can’t offer anything more than a simple thank you in my morning prayers. I see mornings like this, and I hear God speaking quite clearly. It’s time to just sit here and listen, to bask in His glory and miraculous creation.
The Mockingbird fell silent around the time of our first early frost. I’ve missed my little friend who greeted me in song each day as I set abut my porch time. This winter has been mild – eighty-degree days in January – and I would’ve thought he’d come by now and then, but his internal timing told him to wait until now. He saved his melodies for me and this very morning. Thank you my little friend…
“We may think of prayer as thoughts or feelings expressed in words. But this is only one expression… Prayer is the opening of mind and heart—our whole being—to God, the Ultimate Mystery, beyond thoughts, words, and emotions. Through grace we open our awareness to God whom we know by faith is within us, closer than breathing, closer than thinking, closer than choosing—closer than consciousness itself.” —Thomas Keating
I enjoyed the sunrise a tad more than usual today. The birdsongs were louder and more melodic today. Perhaps it’s in anticipation of another delightful autumn day in Cowtown knowing that by the time this is posted it will be a a couple of days of record-breaking arctic chill…
Most of you know that my wife, Margaret, broke her leg in
one of the worst spots possible. The good news is surgery wasn’t required. It
was a clean break and will heal without pins, plates, and various orthopedic
hardware. The bad news is that Margaret can’t put any (as in none, zero, zilch)
weight on her left leg for the next eight weeks or so.
That means that her already limited mobility is now reduced
to sitting, standing, and pivoting on one foot to make it from the bed to the
wheelchair. From there she can go to a living room chair and sit. She watches
TV and works on one of her many artistic endeavors involving crotchet hooks and
tatting needles. She’s presently working on a baby blanket for our grandson.
She says she now has time to get it finished well before the projected due date
It’s beyond difficult for Margaret to get around. We moved
the kid’s bed into the living room since she can’t get in and out of our bed. A
few inches in height make a huge difference these days. The kid’s sleeping in
our room as a result. Our world, our more accurately, our routine, has been
turned on its head.
I hate to admit just how much I’ve become a creature of habit. I catch myself falling into patterns reminding me of my father. Not that it’s a bad thing. My Dad was a loving, caring man so I intend no disrespect. It’s simply one more reminder I’m growing older. It’s just a part of life but I’m not quite ready to take on senior airs.
My routine has been completely broken and I’m a bit
scattered as of late. The demands have increased as well. Margaret, the house
upkeep, and the farm swallow each waking moment. Quite frankly, I get worn out
by the end of the day. I’m far from clear-headed in the morning which
significantly alters my “porch time” and writing time.
I become irritated and get “put out” with everyone at times.
Then I feel guilty for feeling the way I do. It’s not a great place to be. I
feel in conflict with my feelings and my values. I do what I do out of love
right? Why do I feel this way?
The answer came as I prepared another cup of coffee for my wife.
Margaret and I knew each other for almost nine years before
we ever dated. The night before our friend Stan’s memorial in 2012, we met
several friends from out of town and all went out to dinner (IHOP may not be
known for great food but it holds a special place in my heart).
Afterward, Margaret and I went out front to smoke and ended up out there
talking for four hours. That led to our first date a week later (and marriage
three months after that!).
During our conversation, Margaret said she often felt like
no one wanted to date a woman who they would have to push her in a wheelchair
if they went downtown for coffee or dinner. I told her that I didn’t understand
why anyone would feel that way. “It would be an honor and a privilege to push
your wheelchair”, was my immediate response and I meant it.
I tell you this because it occurred to me this morning what
an honor and a privilege it is to “push my wife’s wheelchair”, to serve the one
I love. You see, I’d allowed all the flurry of activity to distract me from the
truly important thing in my life – the honor to have Margaret as my wife.
An Honor and a Privilege
My friend Jim once asked me if I knew what honor was. I
responded with a flat, somewhat emotionless, dictionary definition. He said that’s
not it and then drew in a short quick breath; the kind you have when you’re
suddenly startled or awed by something. He smiled and said, “that’s honor”.
I was confused. “What’s honor?”
He drew another short, quick breath and again said, “that’s
Jim had a way of using metaphors in a way that often
irritated me. “What in the world do you mean?” and I imitated the breath he’d
He said that honor was like that breath. Honor was seeing
your wife come into a crowded room and seeing her takes your breath away. Honor
was about keeping that breathtaking moment in your memory. I began to see the
dictionary definition in a whole new light.
Used as a noun, honor means “high respect; great esteem”.
It also is “adherence to what is right”. Thus, honor is an attitude whereby I
hold my Margaret in “high respect” and “great esteem”. It’s about my perception
of my wife.
Honor, as a noun, is my intention. Unfortunately, we are
never judged on our intentions, only our actions. To honor someone is to “regard
with great respect” and to “fulfill (an obligation) or keep (an agreement).
As I was going to get Margaret another cup of coffee this
morning it dawned on me – the occasional frustrations, and yes, even selfishness
I felt on occasion was simply an opportunity to learn to love, cherish, and
honor my wife better. Suddenly, serving didn’t feel like a chore, an
obligation. I remembered March 2nd, 2013 when I said those vows to
love, honor, and cherish the woman I married.
The words of the Apostle Paul in his letter to the Ephesians came to life:
Husbands, go all out in your love for your wives, exactly as Christ did for the church – a love marked by giving, not getting. Christ’s love makes the church whole. His words evoke her beauty. Everything he does and says is designed to bring out the best in her, dressing her in dazzling white silk, radiant with holiness. And that is how husbands ought to love their wives. They’re really doing themselves a favor – since they’re already ‘one’ in marriage.” (Ephesians 5:25-28 – The Message)
I’ve yet to meet anyone who lives this out perfectly, but I
have been privy to long, loving marriages that are an example of what to
Margaret, if you’re reading this, know that today I will honor you in every way possible. It is my privilege to be your husband (and I still think you got the short end of the stick…). I cherish every moment with you, and I’m honored you allow me to be of service. I would gladly push you in a wheelchair or walk beside you and hold you up. And by the way, you still take my breath away every time you enter the room…