Mama said..

I miss her, she would have given me some wry bit of hope when I reported what I learned.

The fact I sleep little for the pain leads me in to the Orthopaedist for shots in my knees. The conversation today was ominous.

What I did after was catch hold of God through the music that allows me to live:

The Anchor Holds, God is in Control, Fear is a Liar, Shine, God’s Not Dead, Greatness of Our God, Chain Breaker, Miracles, God Only Knows, Children of the World, I’ll Fly Away, How Great Thou Art, We Believe, and more but I am not sure what. I sing these with the music. I also sing acapella, Come All Ye Faithful, Holy, Holy, Holy, Down By The Riverside, He’s Got The Whole World, Kumbaya, and by the time I get through, I think I will do until He is done with me.

Degenerative arthritis is just another thing to get through.

Sleep though, I need to find that elusive state. My mind will not keep without it.

I pick up a tune, set it loose, realize I am not the engine, just the caboose. I trust the couplings to hold me, keep me in line. I cannot see all the journey, and I know challenges will overrun, but I was given a destination, holding on to Jesus to keep me until I get there. Heaven waits.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

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.

Missing My Peace

Across the ocean between
I wonder
Do you wait, or do you go on;
Forgetting you were
The starch that stiffened my spine,
Enough
To stand when I only wanted
To run away and hide.
Now,
Without, I can hardly face
The rising of the sun,
All the troubles we worried,
Surely,
They have come, and without
You, I am drowning
No one to throw a raft.
Mama,
I am supposed to be grown,
But standing here alone,
This world seems less than ever,
My home.

Yet, I am thinking of how I wish
I could make you proud,
Show that what you taught,
I finally learned
Well enough that others could see
The magic you often said
Existed in me.
My courage seems settled –
With your ashes in that urn.
I wilt like a rose denied a drink,
But Mama,
Do you know? Do you know how
I miss you so? Sometimes, just
To hear you say I love you,
To have you give me a hug.
Ah, what comfort it would give.

I cry, and wonder why, because
I was
Taught to be reliable, to hide hurts.
Sometimes I do, but God knows,
I need you, and I can hardly get
A grip on why He took you.
Some have said I can stand
All I must do is work
A plan.
My plans keep washing away
In a deluge of troubles
No barrier erected by me
Can forestall.
I know, I know there is no call
To give up, but I have almost,
Then I remember how you said,
“Believe that you can,” and I try
Again.

I guess if I could reach
Across the divide
Seeing you,
You would remind me
To keep doing my best,
Never give up, study myself,
For the rigor of each test.
You would say, “My love is
With you no matter how far
Apart we seem. Trust in
Love
To feed your heart
And strengthen your mind.
Keep living, you are my dream.”
Okay,
Okay, even though it is harder –
Than, I imagined it could ever be,
I will live, for you gave life to me.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

As a prompt, create something about a loss that has affected you deeply and changed your perception. It could be a person, pet, thing, or a time. You choose. You are endowed with creative power, use it.

I hope you will follow or return to Haphazard Creative. I am in the midst of a Creativity Project and would love your input and your continuing support.

Thank you for taking the time to visit. May God richly bless you and all you love.