Moms

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

To every woman who has borne a child, to those who have offered hearts of love to children in need of tenderness, you have my undying gratitude and respect. More than anything else, those who nurture children are heroines of the super denomination. God bless every one.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

Life Intrudes

Haphazard Creative has always been a place to share creativity. I have not made much of my life issues here. I am going to now.

I am having a hard time dealing with things. I had a medication change at my last appointment. My doctor and I discussed escalating symptoms.

Since I lost my Mom, it has been increasingly difficult for me to believe I have a purpose. Being alone is not ideal, then going out is hard because I tend to isolate myself. I have trust issues exacerbated by paranoia.

My insecurity and self-censure grow. I am trying to continue a creative practice, but it is steadily more difficult. Dealing with Schizo-Affective Disorder has never been easy, but before, I had family support with me. I could reality check when I needed it. I believe it is why I have thus far survived.

I am trying to get a daytime schedule in the midst of all this, and it is complicating matters. I am typically a night owl.

I have several pain issues too.

Please be patient as I try to get through everything that is taxing me. I am going to attempt continuation, but tonight I feel like creativity is a bit luxurious. I need to survive; living is another level.

Elements may all
Come together to grant dreams
But it sometimes seems
That everything conspires to
Slow progress on every track.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

Sunday

It was Sunday again. She knew not because she could follow days, but because after feeding the chickens, Auntie insisted she take a bath.

It was a new thing, bathing herself alone; she was only a small girl.

Life was different now. Her Mama had gone away to someplace far, called Florida. Daddy said she would never be back.

Auntie had come to live in the little house because she was a widow- woman, alone. Sometimes she seemed strange with her black clothes and strict rules. She knew things like no one else did. People sent for her when someone was sick, or babies came, or people left this living.

She was mean at times, telling the little girl, “If you don’t behave, your Mama woman will come and take you away from here, and you will see your Daddy no more.” Tears and sobs would torment Hope because she loved her Daddy and Bubba more than all the things, including her one baby doll. She had night terrors of being snatched by the bad woman and taken away.

After she bathed in the tub of cold well water, Auntie pushed her dress, underwear, and shoes into her arms. She was careful in putting them on just right because Auntie was handy with a switch.

Soon Daddy, dressed in black, except his white shirt and the gray tie he wore, said it was time to begin the long walk to the church. It was dry now, so the road threw up little spurts of red dust as they strode along.

When they reached the bridge over the creek, Hope cried and wrapped herself, best she could around her Daddy’s legs; he could keep her safe from the harm of falling or being taken away.

Daddy reached down and effortlessly took her in his arms. Since the child could walk, she had been terribly afraid of falling through the cracks in the bridge. Now it was compounded by nightmares and his sister’s stories her mother might step out of the woods and steal her.

Auntie screeched, “You should put that child down and make her walk. You are spoiling her. She will turn out to be no good at all.”

Daddy looked at her, saying, “But she is only three, and she needs to learn love is a safe place, a safe person, she can trust when she is frightened. Hush up now; you are not the one supporting her weight. She is my precious Hope; she has lost a lot, it is okay that I carry her. Mind yourself, don’t be so cold-hearted.”

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

I rarely tell stories, this one is based on reality. The little girl is my Mom.

Gifts We Cannot Buy

The quiet of home when we
Return from wrestling lions all day.
The satisfaction of writing letters,
Poems, songs for loved ones.
The taste of a meal carefully
Prepared with helpings of love.
A comfortable chair, bright light,
Books we are longing to read.
Songs we never realized existed
But for which we find a soul hunger.
A dog, cat, lizard, goat, cow, whoever
Comes snuggles up, revealing devotion.
Stolen hours when hearts, souls
Are permitted freedom to dance art.
Picking up a crying child, watching
As eyes go wide, kissed by a smile.
The sweet hug of those treasured
Who we raised despite everything.
Traveling to a far-off wonderland,
Returning to a space of belonging.
Knowing, growing with screen friends,
Finally, meeting with hugs, face to face.
Sunshine after a bleak succession
Of wickedly dark, sad stormy days.
The alabaster moon coming from behind
Clouds, in time for a sweetheart kiss.
Setting aside specific times to find those
Moments to sincerely pray to the Lord.
Laying down, fed, safe, warm, beneath
Covers, falling into deep refreshing sleep.
Awaking to a day full of opportunity,
Possibility, without doubt, we are loved.
Living in a blessed place where each one
Can achieve hopes, dreams, and success.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

It Is A Historic Time

Some days are a fevered pitch of defeat and glory. Today was one such. I did not want to be alone, and I got my hope. I spent last night and today in my Happy Place with Richard, who challenges me to be more than I think I can be.

We did not miss a thing sitting at the tables, viewing events on a projection screen. Much of the day was moving, and sometimes in contrary ways.

We laughed riotously at unpredictable surprises and were moved deeply by others.

Change is, nothing remains the same. As a people, we must look forward and let the past collect its debts in time as is its due. I am thankful the day did not descend into chaos as was so recently the case.

I had clam chowder for the first time last night and again this evening. As I have mentioned, he cooks for me. I spent some time doing the things I would at home, reading on my tablet, and being a wastrel on my computer. He did some work, and I could distract him if I were near.

So many times, we put our hope in personalities and people. Perhaps we should recognize that over everything is the Lord who holds every destiny. Life is a gift, and we must spend each second carefully.

I have a few goals toward which I am working. I am not calling them resolutions because I expect to work on them as long as I am. One is trying to build a reservoir of self-confidence; this is sorely lacking in me. Richard suggests I do another thing, not worry about what others think about me because it is not my business. The other; just be myself and love as much as I can in any way I can.

My son, Alex, in a picture, taking a picture.

Prompt
On a day like today, we have endings and beginnings; what can you personally undertake to improve your existence? Create something on such a theme.

Gratitude Today
The transition that occurred in our nation today was peaceful.
Richard avoided a disaster.
I proofed a magazine overnight.
Music is such consolation.
I did this even though I would like otherwise.

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All Material © Jo Ann J. A. Jordan