Grief -- a narrative

I was a road alone, lost, walking in endless circles, when an old woman came to me and took my hand. She did not speak a word, but her eyes asked me to follow, and hesitantly, wearily, I did. She started leading me away from the light, away from the brokendown path that held me, towards a shadowland in the distance I had never dared approach. As we drew nearer and nearer to it, I pulled away from her grasp, afraid of the darkness, but her gentle grip stayed me, and her soft eyes persuaded me that I must trust her and continue to walk with her -- she knew the way, she could see through the darkness.

~

So we journeyed together, me following like a child as the path became darker and darker still. I started to stumble over boulders and snares hidden from view, all control taken away from me as my eyes finally failed to find any light at all. An unbearable blackness consumed me, but the old lady led me determinedly forward, not allowing me to give in to my fear or be overcome by the ache of my memories, memories that felt so much easier and safer.

~

When I stumbled and wept, she dried my tears, cleaned my wounds, and led me forward still. When I was angry, she let me rest for a while, and I would scream and cry sometimes. But she stroked my hair with her swollen, aged fingers, holding me close like a baby in her cold but comforting arms until I was calm again. She invited a deep and indescribable kind of peace when I was unable to.

~

Day after day she did not speak, she did not explain where she was leading me, but there was reassurance in her gentleness, a safety in her leading I could believe in. Soon I started to feel hope like an infant being birthed in my heart and I asked her if the place she was taking me was going to be beautiful, feeling deep within me as if I already had the answer. She paused for a moment then sweetly took both of my hands in her own, placed them over her soft, age-worn cheeks and let me feel her brilliant smile. My soul leaped and her unspoken answer resonated as loud as a thunderbolt in my ears. I felt a light, a heat, a warmth shining on me, something that could not be seen, only felt, melting the ice in my heart. A river was forming in my very being.

~

I knew then that the darkness would persists for a season, but a new kind of light was illuminating my path; that the pain and the fear would only lend themselves to significance and beauty if I refused to give up, if I trusted this journey. I determined then that I would continue to walk, continue to trust the old woman, my compass, leading me to a promised land of light and new life.

~

But before I journeyed further I had one more question to ask, one I had not thought of all this time, "what is your name?". She moved her lips to my ear and intimately steadied my face with her hand, "Grief", she said, "my name is Grief". I kissed her on the cheek and held on tight to her hand, this time deliberately, for she was no longer a stranger but a friend and I was no longer a frightened child but a woman at the ready, and we walked on in peaceful silence together.

River God by Nichole Nordeman

Sigh. This song. It has meant so much to me since the first time I played it. It is MY song to God, His song to me...our song.

Always wanting to be a little bit smoother in His hand. Always.

Amber

25 Random Things About Me!

I was asked to make a list fo 25 random things about me...and here it is!

1. I don't like using bookshelves. I find them to be overly structured space hogs. I prefer to stack all of my books in piles all around my house -- livingroom, office, bedroom, sometimes even the hallway -- which serves two purposes:a) makes book storage fun and interesting, b) makes me seem slightly stranger than I really am.
2. I think almost all human beings have an inherent strangeness. I like it when you get close enough to a person that their strangeness becomes familiar.
3. I haven't read all of the books in my piles of books, which sometimes makes me question whether or not I am in the beginning stages of a hoarding habit. I console myself by promising to read them all...one day.
4. I truly enjoy salt water taffy -- it's like toffee meets care bears. In fact, I would go as far as saying if anyone ever brought me salt water taffy, I would probably kiss them...on the lips.
5. I am romantically involved with the ocean. I devout more time than you would guess to studying its creatures, its patterns, its depths, and its many many mysteries. When Chris and I started dating, he noticed I had a book about scary deep sea creatures in my bedroom that was from the Kelowna Public Library...that was when he fell in love with me. I don't know when my obsession started, but it's alive and well. Sometimes I dream that I am a spirit swimming through the ocean exploring all of its wonders interminably. Those dreams are the best. If we get to live where we want in the great beyond, I'd like to live in Heaven's ocean...seriously.
6. I like to elaborate (see #5).
7. I dream of one day writing a book whilst living on the edge of a cliff in Newfoundland over a six-month period. I'm not sure what the book will be about...yet. I'm also not sure how Chris would feel about that. ;)
8. I am watching The Planet Earth series as I write this, which I feel contains many metaphors about human life. Right now they are featuring the calf of a muskox. It is very cute. It is being stalked by an arctic wolf that is hoping to eat it for dinner. To protect it, all of the adult muskoxes surround it in a circle so the wolf is intimidated and walks away. As it would apply to human beings, I think this is a good idea.
9. I once won a jellybean jar contest by guessing the EXACT number of jellybeans in the jar. My mom told me there were many instances in my childhood when I did things like that and she believes I have special psychic abilities.
10. I know what you're thinking right now.
11. Sometimes I tell lies (see #10).
12. I love my mom and my dad immensely and have no issues with my childhood.
13. I have a soft spot for old men and sometimes I cry when I see them struggle with their ever-weakening bodies. Last week there was an old Chinese man trying his darnedest to speed up in order to catch a bus I was on. A bunch of young people were running passed him while he struggled with his cane. He didn't make it and just stood meters from the bus stop looking defeated. I teared up (like, I actually had to wipe tears from my eyes). I'm sure it wasn't as traumatic for him as it was for me. Old people are usually tough as nails.
14. I am both sensitive and stoic simultaneously.
15. I hate the sensation of a retained sneeze.
16. I have art on my walls that I actually hate and I'm not sure why I haven't taken it down. Analyze that!
17. When I watch figure skating on television I get so involved in it that I have been found to move my body and make faces in response to what I'm seeing. It's unconscious and kind of embarrassing, to the point where I have chosen to only watch figure skating alone. I'm sure if I were to watch the 2010 Olympic figure skating session live from the crowd, I would end up on the evening news.
18. I don't like the sound of my singing voice very much, except when I'm in big acoustic tunnels or empty churches playing alone.
19. I hope to have twins one day. Fraternal. One boy, one girl.
20. My favorite colour is turquoise.
21. I want to ride a bike through a lavender field in Provence wearing an orange sun dress and a white silk scarf, with my camera and a notebook in tow. I picture doing this when I am in my 60s.
22. I look forward to growing old. All of the “old” people I know are extraordinary and seem to possess their lives in a way young people just don't.
23. I once jumped off a cliff into a rushing river. Once, being the keyword.
24. I have enjoyed this subjective exercise.
25. I don't usually complete lists, to be honest.

Gratitude...

"Gratitude unlocks the fullness of life. It turns what we have into enough, and more. It turns denial into acceptance, chaos into order, confusion into clarity.... It turns problems into gifts, failures into success, the unexpected into perfect timing, and mistakes into important events. Gratitude makes sense of our past, brings peace for today and creates a vision for tomorrow."

*Melodie Beattie

Summertime...and the livin' is easy

My friend Erin Morgan is a gifted singer, and when I say gifted I mean the "blow your socks off, and make you weep uncontrollably" kind .

She and I just took a weekend holiday together in the Okanagan. We rode bikes through orchards, swam in a beautiful lake, listened to a mid-summer thunderstorm on my dad's front porch while he played guitar...and we recorded some music.

I asked Erin to sing and record George Gershwin's song "Summertime" -- thought it was fitting. Have a listen to her vocal interpretation we recorded this weekend, it's quite amazing.

Thanks, dad, for being a great techie and producer!