When life takes a turn

I dialed her number. I didn’t know what to say, my heart was breaking.
She said “Hello!” and I felt like my heart was being squished. She spoke in a monotone, flat, lifeless - drab, just getting the words out, that was all, just getting the words out.

“Mary, my baby is gone”
“Mary, we did all we could, we tried everything”.
“You think, only 11 years and then again, all the 11 years”

I wanted to scream. "WHAT ARE WE TALKING ABOUT??!!" This is absolutely insane.

Pants on fire

It feels like Huckleberry Fin and Tom Sawyer merged into one. It’s the quick answers, the fidgeting; the shaky pupils afraid to make eye contact, all in an effort to hide something.

My young man is tangled in the lying web and he can’t save himself. As soon as he shakes his hand free, his leg gets caught. The web is all over his hair and face – an endless cycle. Just when he thinks he has figured it out mom and dad carefully unpack the story right before his eyes. At times there is an innocence to it and he will in fact give himself away, but other times wickedness rears its head without disguise and I want to scream. Alas! This is a contract that Adam signed for each of us as we came into this world.

When he said he’d done all his homework and he hadn’t. When he said he’d brushed his teeth and the tooth brush was as dry as the Sahara. Then the DS he brought home that was given to him by his teacher for doing an excellent job in class. A few more questions and the story tanned like a chameleon crawling over a rainbow. He couldn’t decide just how to connect the tale.
How could my baby lie to me? I was furious!
What happened to the safety he felt with mom and dad? When did trust fly out the window?
I felt like I had failed at parenting, at creating a safe environment to tell mommy the truth. Then I was reminded how we are all infected with Adam’s sin. Slowly the picture of a cute, innocent, trusting little human being begins to fade.

For all have sinned, and come short of the glory of God;

All? Including the cooing baby just starting to make sense of his surroundings? The baby unable to speak or “think” (as we define it)?
The very fact of our existence; the essence of our being is a sentence.
A taste of what God must have felt in the garden when Adam and Eve hid.

I failed again with my response. I failed to stay calm, to love him despite of the act. I erupted! “Lying is a sin, liars go to hell, and the devil is the father of lies”. He recoiled.

Such a selfish act on my part, I was more concerned about the "purity" being tarnished instead of the person inside. Why the fables and tales? What was going on inside? Was there cause for him to lie? Was he afraid of my reaction?

How do I build this trust again? How do I communicate that I love him but lying is wrong? How do I awaken his conscience to the ugliness of lies? How do I teach him the importance of being earnest? Is it a phase? Should I ignore it? Am I being too harsh?

On losing a child

Right now, a mother celebrates the birth of a child!
Right now, a mother mourns the death of a child!

To friends who have recently lost new born babies: I could write a card, but a card won’t allow me the space.

Lying in that hospital bed, listening to heart beats through a heart monitor - they are fast and furious like rain falling to a rhythm. There is hope. News that the little bundle of joy will not live to blow birthday candles, kills apart of her. Things fall apart! The world goes spinning and spinning, the heart breaking and breaking, and they cry and cry. Sorrow as deep as the ocean floods every vein in the mother’s body she suffers silently with engorged breasts without the sweet lips to suckle away.
The loss of a child is heart wrenching. A force inside compels her to scream hard, to shake off the pain but it holds on like her very skin.

Writhing in pain, she is certain she's lost her mind eternally. The world is shades of gray. There, in that hospital room, (class room) is a lesson on surrender. She holds the wonder of life and watches him slip away; holding on, yet letting go, she trembles; knowing he is going to a better place but so badly wanting him to stay here.

My heart goes out every time I learn a friend has lost a child at birth or in Utero but instead of shaking my head, I nod. It is going to be alright! I pulled through, you will too, especially if you know Jesus.

Hold on to Jesus. He is right there with you. No one understands the pain of losing a child like God does.
It will take a while, but you will heal, God is amazing like that. He is the same good God. Some day you will encourage another sister whose heart has been shredded by the loss of a loved one.
God allows us tread certain paths so that we can; lead others, offer a seat for them to rest, and water to quench their thirst along the way. Allow Him to use your life for His purpose even though the road seems pretty dark.
You will see that little guy again. It’s not over. They are with father God and that is just awesome!
When family and friends are gone (and they will go), when you feel alone, just remember, you are not alone, He is right there with you.

God sprinkles songs to wet your face and cool off the steam. Drink in the words; “I will praise you in this storm”, “I will be still and know you are God”, “Jesus bring the rain”, “Blessed be your name on the road marked…”, “The anchor holds though the ship is battered” … find solace in those lyrics.
May God surround you with friends who will listen to you recount the event. Pour out your heart, talk about it at every opportunity. The load gets lighter as you share and other broken hearts are mended.

Cry! Cry some more, don’t hold back let it all out. Ignore the pressure to jump back into the craziness of life until you are ready. Life can suck out your marrow if you don’t deal with the sorrow within.

PRAY! Talk to God and when you are done, talk to Him some more. There is safety, assurance and hope in the father’s arms.

May your healing come swiftly.

The Coffee Shop

Hey!
It's been a while. Lots going on but I will not bore you with my life's events. Instead, I will burden you with some fiction. Please be kind critics :-)
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It’s Thursday evening, March 11, 2010.
He sits in a corner mindlessly observing customers as they file in and out. The sun finally grudgingly takes a bow, its warmth lingers long after it’s gone. Three girls stroll in, giggling and elbowing each other, something about their gaiety stirs emotions of déjà-vu.
The aroma of freshly brewed coffee sips through the air, Robusta or Arabic? It’s hard to decipher. Two men at the table to his left stand up to leave, one in a dark suit, the other in a light blue shirt and a red tie. They shake hands and head towards the door. A man in a pink shirt with folded sleeves, sits reading a newspaper, slurping on a cup of hot tea. A woman and a teenage girl sit in the centre of the room, the girl fiddles with her fingers, fixated in the woman’s gaze. In the other corner a man and a lady stare at each other in amazement, their knees involved in a similar contest. This is his favorite wind down zone.

He looks at his watch, its 6:02 pm. He shuffles in his seat barely noticing the waiter standing to his left.

“What can I get you sir?”

He plays with the keys in his pocket reminded that he needs to service the car on saturday morning before his tennis match. His forward stroke is awesome if he says so himself, he will soon be challenging his trainer. If he could only apply the same wisdom to his career. He is on a bumpy ride or no ride at all, there is a road block he can’t get passed. How long will it take to get to the top? What strategy? What connections? Should he consider an MBA at this point?

“Excuse me sir, are you ready to order?”

He suddenly notices the waiter and jerks as though the waiter just sprouted out of the ground.

“I’m sorry! A glass of passion fruit juice please”

He shuffles his feet, scans through the newspaper and throws it back on the table; Pathetic stories, poorly constructed sentences, unnerving grammar, looks like the writers are asleep and in a rush to publish anything. Irritated he turns away, he pretends it’s not there, it’s not his.

“Here is your juice sir! Do you want anything to go with that?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Do you want to order a bite?”

“Oh! No, no! Thank you, David!”

The waiter hurries a long, thrilled to be recognized by name.

He wishes for a country where aid is channeled towards constructing lasting roads, where libraries are filled with story books and children can dream, having their imaginations running wild with possibilities. Where leaders think more about the people and less about themselves.

His phone rings, it’s Peter his boss - not a welcome call but he takes it anyway. Something about tomorrow’s presentation and how he needs to add data on customer satisfaction. The directors are soothed by figures, never interested in the disgruntled employees. He makes a note to beef it up when he gets home.

He glances at his watch, it's 6:45pm. His phone rings again. It’s Sheila! His heart jogs faster, he clears his throat, leans back in the chair and presses the green button.

“Hello!”

“Hi Tony, sorry I’m running late, got stuck in traffic, but I’m just round the corner, I’ll be there shortly”

“That’s alright! I’m here!”

“Ok! See you in a bit”

She hangs up.

He smiles, adjusts his belt, looks at his shoes - black with a rumor of brown from the dusty streets. They are comfortable, loyal for 2 years running, still looking good as new and easy to clean that’s why he would buy Clarks any day.

He looks up and there she is, radiant as a sun flower. He plays her in slow motion. She walks towards him with a big smile, her pearly whites set perfectly. Her burgundy shoes have a slight heel, firming her calves as she steps forward. The anklet on her left leg jiggles; he can almost hear the alleluia chorus. Her ebony skin, moist and shimmery is exposed, up and up and just above her knees. Before he can reenact a scene from Men in Black the act is cut! It’s covered with a pencil skirt, sketching her at all the right angles and her blouse a shade of electric indigo.

Oh wow!

He stands up.

Her hair is held up in a puff with a few stray strands teasing her neck.

How does a man survive this? He wonders.

She puts her arms around his neck, his hands find their way and settle around her waist. He wishes the deejay could press the pause button on life. Let this moment last forever, oh baby I love your ways, all the love songs playing in his head in nonstop sequence.

She smells oh so sweet – strawberries, peaches, fresh flowers – its crazy!

“She’s coming home with me tonight! We are going to pop some champagne and make the night last forever!” He thinks.

He wants to tell her, but he will not.

His eyes stray to her lips and he is ushered into paradise - forget purgatory and what not.

They talk about her favorite food, his dream car, career goals, their parents, siblings, frustrations, office politics, traffic and favorite authors.

It’s 10:00pm.

“I’ve got to leave now. I have a book to finish before class tomorrow” she says.

He pays the bill, leaves a tip for David and they walk out of the coffee shop, his hands in his pockets.

He drives home, trying to keep his mind on the road, begging his body to shut up. He forces his mind to think about the poor kids going without food, he takes a cold shower then sits down to edit the presentation for tomorrow’s meeting.

THE END! OR, MAYBE NOT.

How can a young person stay on the path of purity? By living according to your word. I seek you with all my heart; do not let me stray from your commands. I have hidden your word in my heart that I might not sin against you. Praise be to you, LORD; teach me your decrees. With my lips I recount all the laws that come from your mouth. I rejoice in following your statutes as one rejoices in great riches. I meditate on your precept and consider your ways. I delight in your decrees; I will not neglect your word.