About the poem
Saturday was quite a day. We had plans to attend a four year olds birthday party. Then one of the matriarchs of our community passed away and the funeral was scheduled for that morning. However as we arose to begin our day my husband checked his phone and found an exciting message. Our daughter had gone into labor with her first baby. How do you go from a house of mourning to a house of dancing and then a place of joy all in the same day?
Overwhelming emotions can be difficult. A day full of that much excitement. Wow.
It all takes me back a bit.
The turn of a century. One leaves our world, and another is born. The gravity of life. It’s intense moments and fragility chokes me up.
And now is the part where I dive into reality. My emotions have been flat-lined. Since August of last year the doctors put me on a common anti-depressant to help my “change of life.” There were so many days that tears rolled uncontrollably. Wee thought this might be a good option. It did work they about Christmas time. I actually had fun at Christmas this past year. For the first time in many years, I enjoyed the company of my siblings and had a blast ice-skating.
Then the bleak days of winter set in. The cold harsh reality of endless snows. The tip bulb of my soul felt frozen and dark. My spirit aches for some sort of joy.
A lap puppy was on my mind constantly. Then a kitten. Anything soft and comforting that might bring back a sliver of sunshine to my stoney heart.
Then spring outside actually arrived. Two weeks after the last snow, we cleaned the protection off the flower bed and began watching the bulb garden dance towards the sun.
Watching this process and the changes my daughter was going thru as she arrived closer to her due day made me search for feelings of any sort.
Why can’t I feel awful about being old? (Fifty). Why can’t I feel happy about seeing an old friend? Why can’t I think of inviting anyone I’ve got tea? Why didn’t I cry with joy when o heard my grand baby was born?
A heart to heart talk with my second daughter made me realize, the medicine had finally ran its course. It had killed my emotional capacity. Feelings can lie. Feelings can be unfaithful. But Jesus never fails. Love is a choice. A book by that title was a deep read of mine many years ago. Though feelings follow actions, when the actions are forced until there is no feelings left, life becomes a chore.
I am not acting. I love my daughters, my son-in-law, my new graandbaby, my family. But loving my filthy one year old puppy has become a chore. Petting the cats inlu feels great for a few minutes. While I could hold my new grand any for hours, that incredible joyous burst of happinrsss has flown my coup.
When will my spirit be at peace again? Why oh my soul ate you downcast within me? Grief takes many shapes. Mine is a dormant onion bulb right now.
Grandchildren are a blessing and a crown to the aged. He make even the house of mourning burst into spontaneous laughter. Children say the cutest things. Little girls give the best hugs.Especially after receiving birthday gifts.Saturday had all the seasons of life rolled up in a six hour sunbeam. The following is a poem written by myself.
God is there in the spring of your life
When others are coo-ing over the awe of new life
He makes sure you have a place to grow
God provides the soil of spring in soul.
And God is there in your summer days too
When Jesus calls and walks with you
He gives the rain and the sunshine so bright
Yes, God is there in the warm summer nights.
There in the autumn each time that you fall
‘Tis God’s hand that catches you
He lifts you up each time you are low
Oh, hear His Spirit each time the autumn winds blow.
Now, as the winter, the winter draws near
Be assured that the Lord is still near
Jesus is preparing a place for you
To rest when your winter time is through.
All through the seasons< The seasons of life
God is there whether day or night
And when the days, The days are all done
Which for us have been written
Be assured, oh, be very sure
God will be there in the end.
Written October 2000 during the last days of my grandmother’s life. When she no longer spoke or communicated much with us as we visited. He ability to respond to our visit turned into not much more than yes or no. She wasn’t receptive to leaving her comfort zone of her chair, and I missed who she used to be. Her passing so close to Christmas just after our move to South Dakota the year after I wrote this poem was so difficult. It marked the end of the extended family gatherings at holidays. Grandma was not there to have all the little ones playing at her feet while she filled out the crossword puzzle.
This photo graph of my first daughter with my Grandmother was taken at Thanksgiving of her first year. We braved some weather to see family nine hours from where we lived at the time.
Ecclesiastes holds the time honored words of Solomon “there is a a time for everything..” I encourage you to look up chapter three and read it for yourself. Reading the fifth chapter as this is May, the fifth month I focused verse fifteen to sum up the day on Saturday so well. Many people have hear the phrase “naked I came from my mother’s womb, empty handed I go again.” Seeing that occur in the same day was so moving. Even if my emotional tank has been dried out like an old wine skin, I still felt the significance of the days events.
Welcome to the world Isabelle Megumi! It will be a joy to watch what blessings God will place in your little hands. Isabelle, God is here in the spring of your life.