Life

It passes by too quickly.  The 1,440 minutes that make up my day seem to whirl by virtually unnoticed. 

Death

It too comes quickly.  No matter the number of minutes or years between the first breath and the last, it always seems too soon.


This day would have been my mother's 88th birthday but instead of celebrating in life we are celebrating in our hearts.  A good reminder that each minute is as precious as the one before and we are not promised the one to come. 

Death does this...gives you pause.  It creates a selah in the midst of life.  It would do me well not to pass on by without a notice. 

It seems fitting that I enter in this Lenten season with fresh awareness of life and of death.  I pray that I have the eyes to see; the ears to hear;  the mouth to speak and the heart to love the grace and glory of my Saviour. 


I came across this prayer last year and it seems too good not to share it with you.

A Lenten prayer for families (author unknown)

Fast from juding others; feast on Christ in them.

Fast from wanting more; feast on being thankful.

Fast from anger; feast on patience.

Fast from worry; feast on trust.

Fast from complaining; feast on enjoyment.

Fast from negatives; feast on positives.

Fast from stress; feast on forgiveness.

Fast from self-concern; feast on compassion for others.

Fast from fear; feast on truth.

Fast from discouragement; feast on hope.

Fast from gossip; feast on silence.

Fast from fighting; feast on peace.  Amen.

© A Sacred Longing 2009-2012

An Eternal Release

Outside the window, the snow falls gently and the wind is howling cold.  Inside this room, we sit in vigil watching for the final breath.  Not wanting it to come yet at the same time begging it to hurry.

I am learning that life gives us many choices but death gives us very few.  We can't pick the day, the hour, or the way.  It comes when it is time - not a moment before or a minute after. 

Rarely do we seek its presence.  Still and yet, when its eerie silence echoes near we seem to grasp the patience we otherwise would seldom hold. 

So today we wait in expectation - seeking to be witness to the most precious of moments - a "thin place" where the heaven and earth join together.  Where a life ends here and a spirit finds eternal release. 

Dearest of friends, I wrote this 9 days ago - an eternity of emotions - and yet only 9 days.  On February 13, 2012 my mother passed from this world into the wholeness and grace that is found in the arms of our Savior.  No matter how old I am ... I will always be her baby. 

I love you now and forever, Mom. 

© A Sacred Longing 2009-2012

A Rainy Trip to Ohio

Really and truly, I think that it always rains in Ohio.  It has become a constant joke that each and every time I visit the rain clouds come out.  So, I wasn't surprised that as I crossed the border from Pennsylvania into Ohio the moisture began to accumulate on my windshield.  Wasn't surprised but definitely disappointed.  Yet, rain or not I was here to spend a few days with my mom.  And, that is what I did.

Growing old isn't as graceful for some as we would wish.  Sadly, my mom is one that has aged in a less than kind way.  Parkinson's has taken more from her golden years than should be fair.  I wish it would be different but wishing doesn't make things so.  Still and yet, I was here for a whirlwind visit and rain or no rain we were going to do something fun.

Gratefully, my nursing background gives me the knowledge on how to transfer mom from wheelchair to car.  So, off we went on a little excursion.  We traveled around the old town.  Drove by the old homestead.  Time has not be kind to that neighborhood either.  We passed by the university and saw the new stadium and dorms.  Thankfully, this once vibrant manufacturing town has a growing university to fill the empty spaces.   Soon, we found ourselves at P.F. Changs because Mom had a hankering for Chinese food. While she didn't quite understand why there were no Chinese people (servers) in the Chinese restaurant, nonetheless, she enjoyed the food.  Every good meal should be followed by  a yummy dessert and soon we were parked in front of our favorite frozen custard stand.  A few more stops and we were back "home".

"Home".  It doesn't seem right to call this place "home" but for her right now, that is what it is.  All my best promises and intentions meant nothing when Parkinson's and dementia came knocking.  What I am left with is a good bit of sadness, a tad bit of guilt and a lot of gratefulness that Mom is happy where she is. 

The raindrops weren't falling when I left Ohio - only my tears.  So, all you Buckeyes put away your umbrellas and hand me a kleenex, please. 



© A Sacred Longing 2009-2010