Dreams–dusty realities
removing time and distance
Like a movement of dissidence, tucked into a symphony of
reason. You are a memory that makes no sense, resurrected by heartache,
sewn together by longing, until the persistent alarm shatters my dreams
to a heavy concrete world without you.
“It is Only for the Weekend” was the sermon title at my in-laws church. God, who is not limited, doesn’t even operate in the limits of time, takes our circumstances whether good or bad and declares that they are temporary. Even death is now an unpredictable outcome for those who believe.
On our drive home Brian and I agreed that the heartache of missing Jonathan sure didn’t feel like only a weekend. “Feels like we are stuck on Saturday.” Brian said. Maybe your circumstances are like ours and you feel stuck in pain, your job, your life, your loss. The resurrection hasn’t happened or become an active part of our thinking, living, and dying. We are confused and reeling from plans not of our own making. We want to hide away, cry out, shake our fist at a God for allowing such agony into our lives. We would not map out the same path.
This is exactly how the disciples behaved after the crucifixion, the Romans guarded the tomb just in case the disciples tried to steal the body. They needn’t worry–the disciples were stuck on Saturday. When they started getting reports that Jesus was alive, most of the 12Â did not go running to the tomb to confirm that it was empty and that Christ was indeed resurrected. They were in disbelief, and that was where they were likely going to stay if Jesus himself hadn’t walked through the door. I mean that literally, he waked through the closed and locked door.
Does Jesus have to walk through the closed and locked door of my heart for me to accept that his plan for my future is a good one? Or do I declare with my hands open to the heavens “BUT, SUNDAY!” The resurrection isn’t just an event that happened in history, it happens today when believers see the risen Christ in their lives and are transformed.
Lord, open my mind, heart, and soul to Sunday and help me to Turn the Page on Saturday! Amen.
Children’s laughter
echoes Spring into
the window of my wintered heart.
Never quite thawed, never
shaking myself of the death that keeps my hands
cold.
I cannot bring to life that which I long for
I resurrect dreams until they are nightmares
and hold tight, until Edgar Allen Poe is not quite
so frightening.
Yet, I cannot spring to life that which I long for
Not quite a year since you were planted in
soil that would bear no fruit.
Yet I refuse a baron field
Death is filled with stubborn seeds of potential
I tend the garden of my grief
until Winter loosens its grip and I reap a good harvest of hope
that will warm my soul.
Grief, a dance partner I did not
choose, puts me on display
for a waltz I have not learned.
He does not care that my ankles
are unlocked or that I am an unwilling
to follow his lead.
His grip is tight on my hand and weighty on my
shoulder.
Demanding elegance he holds his head
with the confidence of centuries of one-two-threes.
I rise when I should fall, and fall when
I should rise.
Slowly, I realize that the waltz will play on
until I follow Grief’s lead. Back right foot,
slide the left . . .
A repeated pattern of elegant sadness,
Until the crowd gasps in awe. I have
found joy in this pattern of sadness.
Isaiah 43:19 For I am about to do something new. See, I have already begun! Do you not see it? I will make a pathway through the wilderness. I will create rivers in the dry wasteland.
How many of you need to see God do something new? I do! I need to see that he is making a pathway through the wilderness of grief and that I have a gushing river to quench my thirst, in a place where there should be no hope. This year is one of firsts that no parent wants to have. Jonathan’s 19th birthday is fast approaching and my sorrow deepens.
Lord, I see the first of my flowers peaking through the earth. They were there throughout the winter, but hidden and the sight of them fills me with the hope of new life. Father I cry out to you, may the seeds that have remained dormant in my life blossom so that I can see that you are at work. May the day of my son’s birth produce new life, so that the glory of your plan is revealed! Help me to trust your provision! Amen
Dear Reader,
Today I start a new page of my journey. My son’s suicide is a part of my story, and you too may suffer this deep heartache, but suicide doesn’t have to be a part of another parent, friend, or spouse’s story. We can Turn the Page on Suicide by being a light in the darkness.
In my sidebar is a link of resources that will now be named Jonathan’s Hope. I ask that if you come across anything that is making an impact in Turning the Page on Suicide, that you will send the link to me and I will add it to Jonathan’s Hope. I’m not in your community and I want the resources to be as local as possible. My hope is that we can build a network of hope across the country.
Thank you for working with me to Turn the Page on Suicide and offer hope to others like Jonathan.
Love and Hope to you all,
bkmoore
Colossians 3:1Since, then, you have been raised with Christ, set your hearts on things above, where Christ is, seated at the right hand of God. 2Set your minds on things above, not on earthly things.
“They are so heavenly minded that they are no earthly good.”, is a false saying! Yesterday I was at a funeral for a man who was an interracial part of our community, our state, and our lives. Even the Governor and Senator came to pay their respects. Mike’s son shared, “It was not all the things that he did to improve our lives that made him a great man, it was the fact that he loved the Lord his God, with all his heart, soul and mind.” Mike was heavenly minded! I contend, that if your mind is truly on the things of heaven then you will be doing the greatest good here on earth.
I have a son in heaven! To say that he has turned my head towards heaven is an understatement. Jonathan’s death has made me cling to the only one who gave me love, value, purpose and meaning in the first place. Jonathan’s death has forced me to renew the foundation that Christ laid, to strengthen it, and to fix my eyes on Him. Jonathan’s death has increased my longing for things above, and I pray that my longing grows deeper. I want to be heaven minded, because this earth deserves nothing less than my best!
Our longings are poured out.
Shaped into memories and crafted
moments with you. Built out
of snowflakes, Legos and
tears. Bringing to life
our smiles.
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Wall to Wall.”
My walls look so different now that I have a frozen teenager. I have no photo to change, no memory to add of Jonathan. I see the pain in his eyes, that no glossy smile can hide. In time, the rest of the photos will catch up and pass him by. Adult Daniel and Natalie smile back at me. . . grandkids laugh and play, but Jonathan’s photo has no update.
His growth is now captured in snapshots of how you and I live differently. Hang snapshots of love, forgiveness , generosity, and  hope on the wall of your soul–they are my new photos of him.
If you or a loved one are in immediate danger, call the National Suicide Lifeline at 988 or go to the website at https://988lifeline.org/