Against My Ear


I pick you up

And put you to my ear

Waiting for the

Answers that

Only you can share

For I have questioned

For quite some time

Why I am living

In these days

What is my purpose

What is my gift

Only you can tell

Me as I listen

With the shell

Against my ear.

Written by

Terry Shepherd

06/28/2013

shell

Purpose, Life


Too many times I am maybe too honest, too open for a blogging site that any pair of eyes

Honesty

Honesty

can read. It can set you up for comments of negativity on how and why you feel the way you do, without them knowing the real you, the inner soul that hurts or has love and laughter. Fortunately, for me here at WordPress, I am blessed with the real grains of our earth. People with hearts and compassion, a world of understanding, and so today, I do not care nor mind who reads this.

I have not planned on what to say today for this, I only know that if I do not get this out of my soul, I too shall pass as stars trying to twinkle through a foggy night. I can not let this happen, and of course realize, that with prayers from myself and you, this too shall pass. What worries me, is that this attitude is showing its ugly fangs more often than not, and this is what I need to fix.

Yesterday, I was to meet a wonderful lady, and because of illness this did not happen, and I am so grateful that she felt that she needed to warn me of her health, as I could have brought a bad bug to my brother’s immune system.

I had the caregiver lined up, and so I did find my way outside of my house, not wanting to go, but to stay inside where my feelings can not be questioned by innocent by standers. I do not want  people to wonder why this lady comes into their view without the big smile or friends hanging from each hand. I prefer to stay inside where I am needed by my brother, but the truth is, it is more from a comfort zone. I need to go out, like taking baby steps all over, learning to walk.

I have tried to stay a way from blogging for a couple of days, but to be quite honest, blogging is what heals me. I have to be honest when I write on here, as I am writing from my heart and soul.

My daughter came to see me unexpectedly on Friday, and I will admit that after not seeing her for at least four months, I was thrown back when she walked into my house. I was actually quiet once we were settled in. My mind was racing because I knew that she can see what is on the inside, without me speaking. Conversation did begin to slowly take off and I spoke of dreams I had, and we talked, but it was not light and fluffy like it usually is. She stayed about four hours and reminded me that it was their anniversary weekend. They had plans for the rest of the weekend. They try to squeeze in a lot of activities while they are up our way, so I was not surprised not to hear from her again.

My son and his family were here then and we had pizza for supper, so all in all, I had two of my three children here, and when the night was over, I should have been feeling as if I was in heaven, right?, but it was strange, life just went on, as if I had blinked and was blinded by the sun, and then the sun drifted behind a cloud and I could see once again.

Last night my son and his family came here and we had a campfire. It was a perfect night for this. A chill in the air, but calm winds, and listening to the cracks and pops of the wood, and standing near the flames warmed the body, and we talked, and I did learn some new information about another family member, which I was not aware of, so now I am praying that God can use me in some way to heal another soul out here.

This morning when I awoke, a friend called and we shared some happy and sad news together, and I realize life is not all that it is cracked up to be. It can be filled with joy and laughter and silly things, but it can also be filled with need. Needs of family member, friends, others having it worse off than myself. I am more aware of this each year that I get older. Getting old is not fun. It can be a scary thing. The independent life that you have lived your entire adult life, sneaks up and starts to make you more dependent on someone else. What happened to the old saying, The Golden Years……

After I got off of the phone with my friend, I went to take care of Al and was met with sadness and complaints of leg pain. I could see without a microscope that he was suffering big time. He could barely stand and was hanging onto what ever he could to stand. Tears were in his eyes, and as I tried to comfort him, I found myself sinking emotionally, but my legs were still standing straight. I was calm and yet I was giving false hope to someone who needed to hear these words so desperately, that everything is going to be alright, I am right here.

I look out at the gloomy skies as I sit here writing this, and I see the leaves losing their life from the branches that have held them together since last spring. I wonder if they realize that this part of their life is over, that they performed perfectly what their mission was in life. They provided shade and greenery, and needed no prompting to do so. Now they are fading quickly into piles on the ground, to soon be raked and burnt or bagged, soon to be forgotten.

I sit here knowing realistically that I have a wonderful life. I am doing in life the talent God has given me, to be a caregiver to others, to help others to find peace while they reach the end of this life and begin their journey into another, but inside I am choking up. I feel tears trying to so hard come to surface, but I can not let this happen. My brother would not understand and I can not be the one to cause him more confusion or cause him to believe that he is the reason for my sadness.

Sometimes God gives us jobs to perform and he promises he will not give any of us more than we can handle, so I have to believe that and cling to the promise that if I begin to fall, he will send an angel to help me stand tall once again.

Thank-you for letting me get this out, as I  hope I will once again begin to heal myself once more.

I see trees of green, red roses too
I see them bloom for me and you
And I think to myself what a wonderful world.

I see skies of blue and clouds of white
The bright blessed day, the dark sacred night
And I think to myself what a wonderful world.

The colors of the rainbow so pretty in the sky
Are also on the faces of people going by
I see friends shaking hands saying how do you do
They’re really saying I love you.

I hear babies cry, I watch them grow
They’ll learn much more than I’ll never know
And I think to myself what a wonderful world
Yes I think to myself what a wonderful world

 

Picture And Write It, July 29,2012


He was a warrior in my eyes. A man who never knew the word fear. I had heard from him each month by hand written words, and had his photo sitting by my bed on the night stand. Each night I prayed that God would watch over him and guide him through the day.

My son was always a tough little boy. He was the one when you would check his jean pockets you would  find baby toads still alive, screeching to get back out in to freedom. Stones, dead flowers, and anything interesting could be found in the inside of these pockets.

He was the child of the three I called my own, that would be right there at the precise moment, offering to help carry the groceries in, when you were standing at the front door, with two loaded sacks and yet trying to open the door. He helped his dad in the garage, handing him tools that were needed to fix the car. Mowing the elderly neighbor’s lawn.

He could be found selling lemonade in the front yard of our house, because he wanted so badly a new pair of skates. He was a good kid, never giving us problems or heart aches.

He didn’t care for school much, although he never missed days unless he was really sick. He didn’t want to participate in sports, choir or plays. He would rather learn life by living it.

When he became a teenager, he worked at one of the local grocery stores, bagging groceries, and even though he didn’t have to take them out to the cars or load them into the trunks, many times he did offer his help to frail ones.

Today, he is lying in pain. He can vision help. Aid to come his way by means of God or his buddies. He laid in the sand, the rays of the sun beating down upon him, trying to take the breath from his body. There was no more sweat to be released, and his mouth was dry. In his sleeping moments he could see the water and taste its coolness, splashing it over his head, but when awake, he saw nothing, but brightness and blue skies.

Bugs began their journey over his body, trying to take claim of his soul. He had walked over a booby trap, placed by the enemy, and the purpose of being  left dead and unfound, was being sought. He had lagged behind, a major mistake, from his troop, stopping to try to save a friend’s life, and when he realized he was too late, and had walked six feet from him, the  trap, engulfed him.

The troop did not hear  the small explosion and kept moving forward.  The sergeant was leading  the troop to  make it to the next city on the map by dusk, so they could set up camp.

After they arrived at their new location, one soldier noticed that someone was missing from chow. He went to the sergeant and told him his concerns, and was ordered to immediately return to the path of their travel and find him. He also sent two others in the group, to be of assistance if it was needed.

A sand storm had picked up and it was difficult to see. Beads of sand were hitting the faces and stinging  eyes, but they were not giving up. This was a team, and although they were taught to be tough, their hearts remained soft, and they wanted their member back with them safe and well. No thoughts entered of any tragedy. They were not allowed. Weakness was not a word in the dictionary of this platoon.

It was dark and the only light offered them was the moon and their flash lights. Their ears were keen to any sounds, and their eyes were keen to past  imprints. They stopped once in a while to check their map to make sure they were following the right direction, and kept moving with no breaks in their steps.

The day break of morning fell upon them, and in the skies they could see buzzards flying in circles as they were making plans to land on their prey. This was a sign to the men that they were close.

Up ahead of them lie the wounded soldier. Dried blood attached itself to skin that was showing and to his clothes. The sight was a blur, from lack of fluids and strikes from the sand. He was on his back, unable to flip himself over to protect his face, and he could make out the visions of the buzzards. He prayed in silence for his God to rescue him. Take me home Lord, don’t let me feel the bite of winged birds. Let nature have its way with me, but take my soul home Lord.

The Lord answered his prayer and with in minutes, the three troop members stumbled upon him. They checked his wounds, and told him he was going to be alright. Help had arrived. They didn’t take time to asses his injuries, for their goal was to get him back to the troop.

A letter arrived at our door, informing us our son had been injured, and was being cared for at a military city. It stated that he had been injured by a booby trap, but help had arrived in time.

The mother dropped her letter to the floor and got down on her knees, and with tears of joy streaming from her eyes, she thanked God for watching over her soldier.

Thank you Ermilia for another chance to write for your writing exercise.

http://ermiliablog.wordpress.com/2012/07/29/__picture-it-write-36/