Thursday, November 29, 2012

Thinking, that's All: In Which I Write My Heart Out

All week {um fall long?}, I feel like I've been writing for everyone else.

And that's left me here in these quiet moments too exhausted to write much of what's been on my heart and mind despite there being a flood of thoughts and emotions.

Writing here in this space has been a lot like taking a bucket to an overflowing river, trying to reduce the flooding one bucketful at a time; by the time I get back from emptying one bucket, the river has again spilled beyond its flooded banks and I'm just dipping into a tiny bit of it, carrying it away.

This week, especially, has been one of these overflowing weeks.

I said goodbye to my grandpa just days before he slipped from this side of eternity into the next ... and days before my late father {his son's} birthday, which is always hard because I think of how old he would be and what he's missed with the boys and what my boys have missed of him.

This weekend, we'll say a proper farewell, but I'm positive it won't hold a candle to spending an hour with him Sunday, talking to him, holding his warm hand, praying with him and voicing my appreciation for him while he was still conscious enough to hear and understand and respond.

I grieve for the loss of such a great patriarch; but I find joy in the hope that he's with his Creator ... and my dad and my grandma {his wife} experiencing fullness in the reunions. I give thanks for having had 29 years with him and for having the chance to say so and say goodbye.

I woke up this morning to my eyes washed with streaks of red across the white, and I wished that I didn't wear my heart so visibly on the outside.

It's hard to explain a week like this to the people who read the heart in your eyes, a week so wrapped up and bound in not only my own sticky grief and gratitude but that of others who are hurting or weighed down by the heaviness of life.


No one knows exactly what that translates to but its splashed across the pages of the Psalms. Some say it means to give pregnant pause and reflect; others ponder that it means that with an infusion of praise. 

I feel like my life is a Psalm this week.

I've cried out to my God through tears of sadness, praise:
"I love you, O Lord, my strength.
The Lord is my rock, my fortress and my deliverer; my God is my rock, in whom I take refuge.
He is my shield and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold.
I call to the Lord, who is worthy of praise, and I am saved from my enemies." 
Psalm 18: 1-3 
And joy.
"You are a hiding place for me; you preserve me from trouble; you surround me with glad cries of deliverance. Selah." 
Psalm 32

Strange thing is how one can cry tears of grief and yet sing songs of praise all within almost the same breath.

Today was my 90-day check up with my crazy-smart holistic doctor and E's eight-week check up.

Though I knew the report would likely be good because I've been feeling so.much.better these past few weeks especially, I couldn't help but let tears spill onto my cheeks when she told us both my and E's candida infections were cleared up.

After more than a year and a half of both E and I battling that infection and all of the imbalances produced during other less effective treatments and the infection itself, our bodies have been cleared of it.

Cleared. Healed.

All I could say was thank you to her for her help

thank you to God for giving her such insight into the body

and allowing our paths to cross and linger



Tonight, I'm done carrying buckets of overflow.

I'm just going to wade and cry and sing and praise.



  1. love you, friend. so sorry about your grampa, but thankful, too, for goodbyes and clean bills of health. the sweet and bitter do so entwine, huh? love to you.

    1. Thanks, Suzannah. Yours is a voice and a face I miss during this season of fleeting time. love you, friend.

  2. Is it odd that what I find so poignant here is that in the midst of grief, take time to write for YOU and to care for YOU...and that it's through those choices that blessings flow? It's so easy to put both our spiritual and physical well being on a shelf to keep pace with (or take care of) the whirlwind around us - I'm so inspired by your courageous healing journey. And I wish you peace as your heart heals from your loss...hugs.

  3. so happy for you and e in admist of your loss. <3

  4. Love you, Hy! That is all. xoxoxo!

  5. Thank you for writing about you! I am sharing in bother, tears of joy and sadness for you! Love you and am sooo blessed to call u a.dear friend.

  6. There's so much here...both loss and healing, grief and rejuvenation. Life and death. It's no wonder you feel you're up against a river. I hope this week will bring you peace to comfort you as you mourn, and joy and calm in good health. xoxo


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