Monday, September 16, 2013

colorblind

Most readers only know me as a blogger. 
 
But on most Wednesdays and Thursdays, you'll find me in my office, conversing heart-deep with women who are brave and courageous enough to allow me to hold a mirror up to their aching souls, asking simple questions that have no easy answers.  We sit gently, often wordlessly, with her responses.  At times, we wonder aloud if there are different ways to think, to respond, to re-frame, to let go.  To redeem her intense pain, whirling emotions, seemingly impossible choices. 
 
She works hard, we work deep together, side by side.  We partner week by week, 
venturing slowly to the healing place, where pain is handled tenderly.  And where the wounds begin to heal.  And she discovers that yes, life can begin to blossom and emerge strong.
 
And that Jesus never left her side along the way.
 
  Together we sift through options that might bring some rays of hope during this oh-so-difficult journey.  Picking up a favorite book.  Dusting off a long abandoned journal or to venturing outdoors for a sunlit walk.  Maybe picking up her music once again or pulling out the camera that hasn't seen the light of day in eons.  Or perhaps reaching for a paintbrush or some yarn ... or heading back into the kitchen once again to create a healthy meal.

To venture forth just a wee bit, to move gradually out of the comfort zone that's become too predictable or wearisome and not all that comfortable anymore.

I recently received this unsolicited, soul-deep piece from one courageous sojourner.  Her writing is quite honest.  Profound really.  And I am honored to share these faith-laden words with her gracious permission.

 
 
colorblind

red is a pencil she uses
on days that are "good"
marking her calendar per doctor's orders
(for he will check every month)
to see if her depression is better or worse
 
red, he says, is for days that are "normal"
lightness of spirit, energy of body, clarity of mind
for the rest there is yellow
okay days, functional but flat, and
blue
this is when the sadness returns
crying, anxiety, apathy, loss of appetite, hopelessness
(to name only a few of the "markers" psychiatry has taught her well)
those days are dark, but she colors them just the same
marking the days as they pass, one by one
 
but there is a red she believes in
every day, whether red yellow or blue
a perfect crimson covering each one
no matter how she feels, healthy or ill
because the blood of her Savior covers it all
every single day of her life,
past present and yet to come
for God is perfect in all His ways
and His plan for her is good
red
just as He planned for her from the foundation of time
 
 

* bouquet of pencils by luigi diamanti @ free digitalphotos.net
 
* sharing this beautiful hope with other grace-filled, valiant sojourners at Laura's  .  Jen's  .  Kristen's  .  Emily's

12 comments:

  1. This is a bouquet of hope... beautiful.

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    1. Yes, yes, my friend. There is always hope! And what a joy to share that gift with others ...

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  2. Wonderful post from start to finish.

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    1. Praising God tonight ... He is so present and attentive to His daughters!

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  3. "And that Jesus never left her side along the way..."

    "...just as He planned for her from the foundation of time."

    Amen. How this truth comes full circle here, from one voice to the next, and back again.

    I'm coming away with fuller meaning tonight about what it means to be "colorblind" before the Lord... Ever trusting in the constancy of His presence that surpasses understanding. Walking by faith and not by sight. It's an "a-ha" moment akin to that of the blind man, whose first glimpse of color was Jesus Christ Himself: "All I know is this, that whereas I was blind before, now I see."

    He -- the Truth, the Word of God -- is our sight. Our old way of seeing has passed away; "behold, the fresh and new has come!"

    Thanks for inspiring fresh reflections this evening. May our Creator-Savior, "God With Us," continually bless you and the family that is Creekside...

    ~Grateful Heart

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  4. 'Fresh reflections.' Yes, yes, that's what we do here. As always, you have spoken it so well, GH!

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  5. Dear Linda
    Oh, and He bought her with His RED blood. Thanks to your friend for sharing this beautiful poem with us and allow us a peek into her life and thanks to you for walking alongside her to help her carry her heavy burden.
    Blessings XX
    Mia

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    1. Honestly, His immense sacrifice is something I can't quite get my hands around. The painful immensity of it all is something I can't even begin to grasp. But thankful I am. 'Cause where would we be without Jesus?

      Thank you for dropping by this morning, Mia. You always add to the conversations around here. And that's what blogging's all about.

      ;-}

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  6. I love the poem and the sitting that you do. I too sat week after week with another, sharing hurts, hearing words, not able to speak the words that swirled in my mind. God bless you listeners of us couch sitters. I love the colored pencil calendar marking. Great idea. Visiting you from ImPerfect Prose today.

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    1. I learn so much about life and faith, brokenness and redemption from sitting and listening. Thanks, Karmen, for your lovely thoughts today. You've blessed me greatly by your visit!

      ;-}

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  7. ohh this made my soul hum.

    visiting from em's imperfect prose today. full of Light.

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    1. Soul deep. Yes - that's how she wrote ...

      Thanks, Rachel, for coming by!

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Welcome to the table, friend!

This is where we gather and hang out. I'd love for you to pull up a chair and jump right into the conversation. Or simply say 'hello.'

l'll be dropping in to visit you sometime soon ...

Linda

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