Posted in Anemia, Poems Beginning with T, Poetry, Uncategorized

Tired, Tired, I Feel so Tired

I thought that since my iron deficiency anemia has once again raised its ugly head, draining my energy, causing my heart to race, and leaving me in a mental fog, that I would share this little poem inspired by my battle with chronic health issues.

Tired, Tired, I Feel so Tired

Tired so tired!

My body feels so tired.

Like a weary shorn out rag I walk around in a worn out daze.

My hallow body feels ancient and weighted down from some unseen place deep within;

As if an indivisible foe is sucking the energy from deep within.

 

I struggle to stay focused.

I desperately push on,

But my endurance is gone.

Even my hunger is diminished,

As my empty stomach trembles at the wearisome

and draining thought of food.

 

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When the anemia reaches a certain point, even the need for food is tempered by the debilitating exhaustion that cripples both mind and body.

Oh who would believe that an invisible bug could cut a grown being down so completely?

Could bring them crawling to their knees.

That a microscopic organism could invade a body composed of billions of cells,

And bring it halting to the ground.

Robbing the body of its vital fluid and nutrition,

Stealing the vibrant glowing spring from its once happy free flowing step,

And freezing the elastic stretch that gives life and freedom to the body.

 

Such a miniscule molecule,

But the power to debilitate is locked so cunningly and curiously within.

The power to slow down expansion,

The power to make humanity so ill,

The power to destroy instead of uplift,

The power to devastate and destroy nations,

The power to kill both big and small.

 

What a little molecule,

What a little virus.

So small,

So insignificantly microscopic,

Yet it can hold the fate of many under its whimsical rollercoaster control.

 

So the sad story goes with sin.

It is just a miniscule microscopic sin.

It is just a wee small fraction of a dot to hold onto.

It cannot possibly kill or maim.

It is too small to do any real harm.

You cannot possibly compare it to any of the real killers like stroke and heart disease.

Mine is just a small unnoticeable little cherished blot that it cannot possibly lay down roots and smother my heart.

 

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Sin, we have grown so used to it, that its terrifying effects no longer seem to fill us with awe. But if we would only pause to think that one little act, one little deviation from right has lead to such misery, we would shiver in horror.

Why I have it so well stuffed and tamed that it cannot go anywhere.

It is so confined into that back corner that it cannot possibly reproduce and do anyone or anybody any harm.

How can you claim that one little sin such as mine is so wrong?

How can one little miniscule germ kill hundreds,

Thousands,

Even millions?

How can one virus bring one metropolis halting with heart pounding fear to its knees?

 

One little sin,

One little stain,

One little stubborn willfully cherished corner,

And some day the day may come when just like an out of control mutant toxic virus it will flourish and spread,

Overflowing and choking out the fresh healthy cells that stand between it and sunshine,

Killing off all the noble and pure desires of the heart.

Destroying your longings to live a pure and righteous life.

 

But even if that day should never come.

One sin,

One longingly cherished sin,

What is the price?

What is the cost?

At whose ultimate expense will the price be paid?

 

How many will see and walk away?

How many will see and stumble?

How many will see and follow your example?

When the day of reckoning comes will you want to turn and walk away?

Will you finally want to part company with it then?

If you have not begun the struggle now,

Will you suddenly be ready just because Jesus has shown up in the clouds of glory?

Or will you find that you have paid the ultimate price for living with and flittering with a deadly virus?

 

© 2016

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Posted in Faith, Religion, Thoughts, Uncategorized

Cantad alegres al Señor

Whenever I hear this hymn I am transported back to my childhood. It is Friday evening, the sun is setting, and I am sitting on my Grandparents sofa. My Great-grandmother is sitting on the lazy boy rocker. Her hair is white as snow and her memory is in the first stages of fading away. My Grandmother is sitting to her right on a wooden rocker and my Grandfather is on the sofa nearest to the light.

With hymn books in hand we have gathered in the small living room to join together in worship to welcome the Sabbath. The fact that my Father, sister, and I barely know a word of Spanish does not matter, because unlike my Great-Grandmother and Grandfather, my Grandmother can only speak a little bit of English.

Our ability to communicate with her without the aid of my Mother or Grandfather to translate is limited. Making it impossible to sit down and freely speak with her as we would like. But for that one moment, as we sat down for worship and lifted our voices in song the communication gap was gone.

It is true that we did not understand all words, but that did not matter because we knew that it was hymn of praise to God. And oh what a glorious moment as we lifted our voices. For that brief moment the language barrier seemed to fade as our voice united in praise to God and by faith our hearts were carried to that glorious day when Jesus would return and at last we would be free to sit and talk. The language barrier would be no more, and the words that we had spent a lifetime longing to share would at last be able to freely flow.

As I listen to the words of Cantad algres al Senor, my heart beats with delight as I remember those precious few evenings. With cloudy eyes I think back to the joy that filled my heart and how I miss those Friday nights. For sadly those evenings are no more as both my Great-Grandmother and my Grandfather now lay quietly in the tomb waiting for that longed for day when Jesus shall call them forth to take part in that glorious family reunion wherwe shall once again lift up our voices to sing praises to our King.

Posted in life, Thoughts, Uncategorized

Get Out of Life Free Card

When I was in high school, one of my favorite weekend activities was to play Monopoly with my Mother. If it were not for homework and household chores my Mother and I would have played the game all day. We loved going round after round, hoping and waiting for all the properties to brought up so we could make our exchanges and build our hotels.

As I look back on those enjoyable mother/daughter afternoons, I remember that despite nearly always loosing the game, I would have such fun. But there was always a low spot (not counting my nearly perfect record of landing on Park Place or Board Walk after it was brought), that made my heart tremble. And that was landing on the community property space. There were so many dangerous cards to chose from such as pay poor tax, pay school tax, or the dreaded hotel and homes tax.

But one bright spot to the day was the unexpected joy of lifting up the card and discovering that I had chosen the get out of jail free card. That wonderful card which would allow me to get of one jam without having to pay a penalty and having to fork out 50 dollars that I did not have.

As I think about it now, I imagine that to some people it must appear like I or any other chronically ill person has managed to land on community property and by the luck of the draw pull out this special card. This wonderful card that allows us at any moment to get out of work, chores, and any other unpleasant life duty. To many it may seem like if something is too boring, to demanding, to exhausting, dirty, disgusting, stressing, etc we get to pull this little ace from out of sleeves and declare that we are now privileged to get out of work and got and do the things that we really want to do.

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Posted in life, Thoughts, Uncategorized

A Reason to Smile

 

The past few weeks have not been my best. I have been caught in the throws of a miserable flair up that has left me feeling cold, tired, and painful. To add to the misery my digestive system has been under constant attack so that some days my appetite drops to nearly nothing while my weight has increased.

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I love my little Happy, but sometimes I get the sneaky feeling that he likes it a bit too much when I am sick.

 

 

Fortunately even in some of the most miserable times, if you look hard enough, you can find something to be grateful for. For me that has been the constant support of my family and my sweet little pup Happy who I sometimes get the unnerving feeling actually likes my sick days because when I am sick I end up camping out on the sofa where he can spend the day curled up on my lap.

 

Something else which has brought a smile to my worn face is the beauty of several hibiscus plants which have spent the last several weeks in bloom. Greeting me with their gorgeous blooms as I take my short backyard stroll. They have been a source of comfort and joy reminding me that even though there are moments that I tempted to think that life is nothing more than pain and misery, there is a great deal worth smiling about if only we open our eyes and take a good look at the simple wonders all around us.

Posted in life, Poems Begining with M, Poetry, Thoughts, Uncategorized

My Legacy

For many the question of what one’s legacy will be seems odd, even uncomfortable. For some the idea of a legacy is something to be bothered with only by the rich or the very old. Maybe it was being sick and spending days bedridden on the sofa, or the thought that one day soon my life’s record would be brought be for God, but for me I could not help but wonder what type of legacy I was leaving. I often found myself asking if this were my last day, how would I be remembered? If something were to happen and my life were to flash before my eyes, would I blush with shame or smile with joy?

As I pondered the answers to those questions, I realized that as discomforting as it is, there is reason for us to ask this question while we have time to consider the answer and make a change.  Because it would be a sad thing to wait until most of our golden opportunities to do good, our best chance to bring joy to the hearts of those we love have slipped away, to reflect upon our actions and realize that it is a record of neglect and wasted days. That by our actions big and small, by our neglect of little cares and duties, we have created a past full of broken relationships, hurt words, and missed opportunities.

As I sat in my curled up ball of pain, I could not help but wonder how sad it would be to reach my last day and look back upon my life and realize that the world was no better off for my existence. And that neither friend nor family would feel the need to shed a tear by my grave, but would instead feel a sense of relief that I was gone. That was not the kind of life record that I wanted to meet.

The more I pondered this troubling question, the more I realized that taking some time here and there to reflect upon the course of our life is necessary. It is good to take a few minutes here and there to consider the vast quantity of words that spill so easily from our racing tongues to see if they are of a nature that uplifts those around us, or the type that rips apart the tender hearts of those we love.

That it is important to routinely look at the road of life to determine if it is the right road. Or else how will I know if I am traveling a path that will make me as useful as I can be or one that is tending to a cold selfishness that has no concern for anything but self-gratification?

It is from these thoughts and questions, as I asked myself where was I going, what type of character was I building, that this simple poem was inspired. I hope that you not only enjoy this humble poem, but that it is inspires you to take a few minutes to examine your life to determine if you are creating the legacy of life that will bring a smile to your face or one that will cause you to shed tears of sorrow.

 

 

Posted in life, Thoughts, Uncategorized

Happy Mother’s Day

It is a shame that we need a special day to pause from our busy schedules to remember the people that we love. Important days like Valentines, Mother’s, Father’s, and Grandparent’s Day should not have to be on the calendar for us to stop and schedule a few hours at the dinner table with or call on the phone.

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It is a shame that holidays such as Mother’s Day have to be put on the calendar for us to remember to call her to say hello or send her a bouquet of her favorite flowers.

 

The mere years of love and faithful devotion required by our Mother’s for us to survive the tenuous journey of totally dependent infancy to independent adults ready to stand upon our own two feet should be enough for us to daily show our gratitude through little acts of attention and words of love that let our precious Mother know that we are grateful for her years of sacrifice on our behalf.

But sadly it is so easy to get caught up in the minutia of life and the daily grind to survive. The once daily calls we promised that we would make grow sparse as work and exhaustion blend one day into another. Before we realize it, days and weeks have gone by since we last said those words our Mother’s hold so dear, I love you Mom, thank you for all that you have done.

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Posted in Poems Begining with F, Uncategorized

Far in the Distance

Far in the Distance is a poem that sprung from the many days of pain that I spent looking out my window dreaming of what it would be like to be healthy and free to wander the world. To have the energy required to travel down the numerous little side roads that begged me to pull over and explore them as I looked out my backseat window watching the world scurry about.

As I road past or looked out my window I would imagine what it would be like to live in that little home, to sit under the covering boughs of that particular tree with my textbook, or browse through the isles of that little shop tucked in the corner.  From there my thoughts would take flight to other corners of earth that would always remain a mystery. I would imagine what fun it would be to hop on a train or plane and visit corners of the earth far and wide. To see new places, meet new people, and learn first hand about cultures that I have only seen on TV or read about in books.

It is from this longing for adventure that this simple poem sprung. I hope that you enjoy it.

Posted in Faith, life, Medical, Religion, Thoughts, Uncategorized

The Hour of Trial

I know that it has been quite awhile since my last post. I have wanted to post for quite some time, but have been enduring a rather strong flare up that has left me curled up in a tight ball for days on end. Leaving me little time to accomplish important task like helping with the dishes or assisting with the family budget. By the time I was ready to log onto Word Press my small bank account of energy had been overdrawn and it was not long before I had to turn off the laptop and curl up in a tight ball once more.

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Pain, fatigue, constant migraine headaches, and the chill of Reynolds had taken their toll.

 

The past few months have been far from easy. Filled with long days of pain, fatigue, miserable migraines, the intense body chill of Reynolds, and a slowly increasing heart rate it seemed at times like someone pressed the pause button for my life. Though it has not been easy, I had one great comfort. The sustaining trust that I was not going through the hour of trial alone. My confidence that every groan, every ache, every tear of misery had been marked by Jesus.

In those long hours of suffering I found myself often thinking of what it must have been like for Jesus during those last few hours before the cross. My iron low leaving me cold and struggling to get the strength to walk the few feet from my room to the sofa, I wondered how after being beaten multiple times and having already lost a fair quantity of blood, Jesus endured what must have felt like an eternal walk from Jerusalem to Golgotha. Then, weak and in great physical pain he was hoisted upon a crude cross.

Continue reading “The Hour of Trial”