Buy a t-shirt and re-post.

So I bought the shirt because I knew I should, would feel guilty if I didn’t. Then, I logged onto FB and saw all these posts asking me to re-post so people know I’m listening.

Suicide Awareness. IMG_2162

Apparently, Sept. 22 is the one day we humans are to stop and show awareness for this act that creates a tornado of despair, shock, and complete and utter disruption of the soul. On this day, Sept. 22, we are to stop and buy t-shirts and re-post messages to let people know we are here, we are listening, and there’s an 800 number to call.

I truly don’t mean to sound cynical, but I did listen. I listened almost every single day. I called almost every single day. I visited as often as I could. I loved. I prayed. I wept. And I did all these things over and over, and it wasn’t enough.

He pulled the trigger despite my efforts. Despite my love. Despite my prayers. Despite my calls and visits. Despite my listening. He soaked in physical pain and mental anguish everyday, despite my efforts.

He slowly, unknowingly fell in love with Depression, and she had Her way. She robbed him of peace, of all he knew to be true. She robbed him of direction, of purpose, and he got lost in the rabbit hole, and I say to you today, on Sept 22, my listening, my loving, my talking and visiting and doing, served as a futile match to Her.

So today, I continue to honor my Daddy and continue to stay in the Word so as not to get lost in unfounded guilt and anger, because I do not blame my Daddy. For in my mind, Depression pulled the trigger, and I will continue on this journey of healing and will practice not blaming myself, for by the grace of God, all will be well.

All will be well, and I will continue to listen and to love for all those who need it and for all those who can still see the light from the bottom of the rabbit hole. For these people and for my Daddy, my best friend, I will continue to listen.

“With Much Ease”

with much ease

a woman can be pleased

a morning kiss

a morning embrace

a whisper in the ear

a steamy message

on the bathroom mirror

a midday call with

simple thoughts of longing

fresh petals picked from the yard

or a late afternoon stroll

or a picnic dinner in the park

a massage of the neck back or feet

a surprise date

in the bath

or an offer to wash her hair

a pallet on the floor

a soft stare of seduction

a slow undressing

an intentional caress

of her nakedness

White Spaces

Despite my Kentucky Baptist upbringing and my barefoot baptism in the muddy river that kisses the small country park in Cadiz, I joined a methodist church years ago because it was a church that my husband would attend. I thought it important that we church together, but years have past and our daughter is now 9, and we need more, more than the obese Methodist pastor who tells great stories on Sunday mornings but fails to follow through when a young impressionable girl proclaims Christ lives in her heart.

So, two weeks ago, Molly Jane had her friend Alyssa spend the night, and on Sunday morning, my husband went Methodist and we went rogue and attended Alyssa’s church,  a Mega church that could probably house 20,000. For this reason alone, my husband would not come with us. “It’s too big.” And that’s that.

After signing my MJ into the computer and walking her what seemed a quarter mile away to her Sunday class, I join Alyssa’s parents in the balcony and fall into the sweet music of the spirit that surrounds this stadium congregation.

After the singing, this new pastor from Texas walked out onto the stage in his jeans and sweater and began telling the story of Ester. Ester, I know the name, but in all my years of attending church, reading the Bible, and memorizing the key verses, I do not recall Ester and her story. As Pastor Jeff explained, though, it’s all about the white spaces and what we choose to do during this space. Will we fret, will we scream, will we sob, will we ignore, or will we trust and wait and make the best of the unknown?

It all just clicked while I sat in the balcony with my friend and her husband. I am in a white space and have been for quite some time. Perhaps this white space would have ended long ago, but my actions, my fighting the space, and screaming and crying on the inside while in this space has prolonged my visit.

How simple. The journey is about the white spaces. Don’t fight them. Embrace them. Curl up with them and listen and wait and learn and grow–all the while knowing that someone else is sharing your same space and choosing chaos or peace.

And the joy is believing that when the white space ends, the clarity begins, one way or another, whether you like it or not. It’s all about you, though, and if you are patient and grateful, you will see the clarity as an increment of your destiny, your path, your answers.

Be ready and accepting. The next white space, the next opportunity for pause and enlightenment, is happening right now.