Priceless Heroes

Another shift,
Will additional hours be required?
From the beginning, nurses, doctors –
Going short of peaceful sleep.
Families wondering when
All members will again meet.
The coronavirus, cruel
As a murderer, random as
A violent hurricane.
Every day at least one
Slips away in isolation
From those loved and cherished.
Caregivers struggle with guilt,
Was enough done?
Why this senseless loss?
So many battles fought,
So little medicine can do,
Hoping always for a breakthrough.
Willing hearts on fire
With love for their fellow man
Sacrificing whatever they can
To beat a disease consuming
People throughout all lands.
Loving, like angels, sharing
All their being to help those
Who continue to need them.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

A poem requested by the owner/publisher of the Chapel Hill News & Views. It will appear in the February issue.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

Gratitude…
I had an assignment today.
Writing helped clear my doubt away.
The day has run long, so I got things done.
Even when I cannot believe in myself, God believes in me.
The magic of music.

Prompt: Create something that illustrates your gratitude.

Thank you for visiting Haphazard Creative; I hope you found the furnishings to your liking. You may follow the site if you like or come back on a future date.

My hope for you is that you find enough love to carry you through the deeps and that many blessings keep you sweet.

2020 Acrostic

Twas a year to begin again
We were mostly anticipating good,
Encouraged by the placement of
Numbers, excited because of the past,
The Twenties were Roaring before
Yes, everyone had ambitious plans.

There was maybe opposition to
What we hoped, by some-things,
Everything went kaput –
None of us knew a solution,
The hope remained, and we, me and
You made the best of it all.

Everyone keeps trying, helping,
Never giving up – on anyone;
Doting on each victory,
Sending love to win.

We together as a people
Energetic in our determination
Loose power in hope,
Love to mend the planet and us.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

As a prompt, pick a name, phrase, verse, whatever you will. Put one letter below the other down your page and write a poem. The form is called an Acrostic. Sometimes I will do them of people’s names. It is unique.

Thank you for sharing your time with me on Haphazard Creative. Please follow the site, or come back as you can.

Faded Roses

The flowers began as a wistful dream of a bountiful harvest, but once cut from the bushes and placed within a vase, they began to fade and crumble—a falling off begun because the blooms were separated from their source.

Nothing living can long survive without nurture. So much depends on tender care. In this life with its challenges, desperation, distractions, doubts, fears, being connected to a network of people who love us is essential.

In this time of isolation, we must find realistic ways to rally our spirits in whatever togetherness we can devise. We need safety zones to engage in conversation without masks and where we can give hugs freely.

We would be negligent to disregard the needs of those who are most vulnerable, but even they need the reassurance of beloved faces and physical touch.

It has been an exceedingly difficult year, but we can help others bloom and remind each one that even in a shadow season, the Lord is present. God will eventually clear the clouds away, and the beauty of humanity’s promise will shine as newly minted gold.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

No Rust Here

Our halos fell off
Many long years ago, or
Perhaps never once
Were ours, here to wear, joy share;
Life is bizarre now, never
The things one expects,
Disorganized, time of plague.
Disaster movies
Did not well prepare us all;
Constant stress, no withdrawal.
Government, all states
Of confusion, shattered gates,
Disillusion where
Clear-eyed justice is sorely
Needed in citizens’ control.
Pandemic, if we
Can believe it, some less so,
Numbers rising much
Higher, how can anyone
Deny contagion, people die.
If you love someone
Do not hesitate to tell
How much you love, care,
For as these days go onward
We can on little depend
Even less believe
In temporal existence;
We lack any guarantees.
Still, God sovereign reigns,
Even in this mess, we find rest,
When we share our love
With those who need to know all
Is not lost, for together
We will build futures,
Shoring up the brokenness
Living better than before.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

Going Down Again

For some of us, particularly females, the quest for a weight we deem acceptable is lifelong. My battles started in probably middle school, maybe before. I have been a diet soda addict as long as I can remember.

I have done every diet, gone to every gym, exercised excessively, put my self at risk with amphetamines, fasted. I have rarely liked my body and regularly hated myself.

For me, it was never so much the models and movie stars; it was the derision from my peers, both male and female. When a man I adored said he hated to take me out to restaurants with him because it was embarrassing to see me gorge myself, it nearly destroyed me.

Since 1997 I have been medicated continuously with drugs that cause weight gain and/or hinder weight loss. At worst, I was over 200 pounds.

I longed to take control, but nothing seemed doable. In December 2013, Samsung released the first version of its smartwatch, the Gear. I tend to be if I can, an early adopter. I had read the hype, and on the day the Gear hit the stores, I got one. It had a pedometer but worked from the wrist. I downloaded the MyFitnessPal app onto my S3 and paired with the Gear; I determined to change my life.

I did. At the end of 2014, I was 140 pounds and a slim size 6. At the lowest, I reached 135 pounds.

I did well until I had a devastating series of losses. By 2019, my weight was slipping up. I hated myself again. Depression, suicidal ideation, medication changes, and the fact that Under Armour bought MyFitnessPal and added pop-ups for which my reaction was to ditch the app, worked against me.

In 2020, with the pandemic, minimal contact with human beings beyond the screen, I reached 173 pounds. That was too much. So, I told someone I was bingeing, and the reply was, “That’s not you!” Somehow those three words gave me the impetus to grasp control and wrench myself back from the edge.

A few weeks have passed. I am down to 160 pounds. At this point – last time, I enlisted the help of Body Change coach John Cena. I have no such option now. So it is me against the urge to eat frequently.

I shall win. My appetite is always ravenous because of my prescriptions, but I have to do this, so there you are.

It is a miracle I am alive, and I believe that God shall not abandon me on this journey. I pray, and I do not bring home the things that I cannot resist.

If you think it is easy, don’t. It is not, and never has been.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan