THE SECRET

That verse reminded me of a term frequently used in Alcoholics Anonymous:  "You are only as sick as your secrets."

Many women and men carry their abortion experiences in the dark recesses of their souls.  They do everything in their power to shroud the secret from others and the guilt, shame, and remorse associated with abortion from themselves. 

Sadly, the means used to avoid detection are more disastrous than exposure:  self-destructive behavior such as substance abuse, eating disorders, promiscuity, being in abusive relationships, gambling, over-protectiveness of living children or the opposite, etc.    

I visualize the tools used to conceal the secret as volcanic magma.  As time passes, weaknesses in the earth’s crust can no longer hold back the magma, and a catastrophic eruption occurs. No matter what tool is used, its destructive nature will eventually emerge and usher in hopelessness, fear, and depression.

The only way to stop the debilitating aftermath of abortion is to summon the courage to reach out for healing.  Removing the shroud of secrecy will allow the light of love and forgiveness from our merciful God and Savior, thus replacing the guilt, shame, and remorse with peace and serenity.  

Take it from one who knows...

The Domino Effect of Grief

We all experience loss and will face many throughout our lifetime.  As we get older, the number of losses increases, sometimes to unbearable proportions. One would think (or hope) that the sting would somehow lessen after a certain amount of losses, and the tears would no longer flow with abandon. Instead, they become a controlled trickle.

In reality, we find that the sting is the same (and sometimes worse).  We might find ourselves muddling through our day with a deep sense of sadness for weeks or months and wonder if we are going crazy.  In most cases, we are not. It's called the "domino effect."

When we lose a family member, friend, or beloved pet, it triggers the memories and emotions of past losses.  This avalanche of feelings can be a little overwhelming, frightening, and, most of all, depressing.  We find ourselves either an emotional bowl of Jello or completely shutting down – isolating from everyone and everything. It's okay. It's normal.  Yes, it is uncomfortable and painful, but all part of the grieving process.  Trying to fight it is unhealthy.  As they say, "Go with the flow." 

Being in the business of grief, I thought understanding the dynamics would inoculate me from feeling the pain and anguish.   Not true.  My brain knows what is happening, but it doesn't communicate that knowledge to my heart. 

We all need to remember that the losses we face and the subsequent period of emotional upheaval are a testament to love.  It reminds me of a phrase in an old movie: "How lucky I am to have someone in my life that makes saying goodbye so darned hard."

In Memory of Michael Ray Campbell

LETTING GO - FOR GOOD

 

I was facing an issue that seemed impossible to resolve so I turned it over to God during one of our chats. I remained silent to hear His answer.  No dice. Nada.  Nary a peep.  It's times like this I get discouraged and, yes, angry.  Angry that He is either ignoring me or, worse....laughing (He does have a sense of humor - I'm living proof).

My anxiety got the better of me so I decided to fix it myself. God wasn't fast enough and I wanted immediate resolution. Of course, my way of fixing the issue failed miserably.  My anxiety increased as did my blood pressure. Sound familiar?  I bet it does!!! 

Deep down in my mind (really deep), the voice of reason surfaced and reminded me God answers in His own time and his timing is perfect. In this particular case, not answering me was His way of telling me I was right where I was supposed to be.  It allowed me to learn a valuable life lesson.  His not answering also provided me an opportunity to practice patience (of which I have none) and strengthen my trust in Him.

Maybe I should get out pencil and paper, list everything I took back from God, put the paper in a frying pan, say a prayer, and light a match.  A visual reminder that once I turn something over to God, I will get burned if I take it back. (yikes) 

Happy Anniversary in Heaven

 

Today marks my parents’ 71^st wedding anniversary.  My heart is heavy, missing them, but I am comforted knowing they are together and watching over me.  I wear both of their wedding bands on a necklace.  It’s a symbol of their love for each other and the love I have for them.

 My mom passed in 2014 and my dad in 2016, but to this day, there are times I think of picking up the phone and calling them.  Once reality strikes, the tears start.  There is no time limit on grief, but the sting lessens through reminiscing. 

My favorite memory is when they joined hands every night and said the Lord’s Prayer.  When mom was nearing death and too weak to speak, dad told her he would pray twice … once for him and once for her, which he did until his own passing.   

 

Happy Anniversary Mom and Dad.  

I love and miss you more than words can express. 

 

LEAD US NOT INTO TEMPTATION

 

Life is full of challenges, one of the most prominent being temptation. As a recovering alcoholic, I can honestly say I'm an expert in that department. Although twenty-four years sober, there are still days when the Piggly Wiggly wine and beer section beckons me. 

Isn't it interesting that temptation gets stronger when we are on the right spiritual path? Satan grows angry, doing all in his power to lead us astray ... and he's a crafty one.  He knows our weaknesses and will use them against us.  

Matthew 26:41 warns:  "Watch and pray so that you will not fall into temptation.  The spirit is willing, the body is weak."  

1 Corinthians 10:13 reminds us to trust in God:

 

Satan might win a few battles here and there,

but with God's love, mercy, and grace, 

we will win the war.

Patti

😇

Remembering Bob

Sue, Me, Mike and Bob

Having a parent with dementia presents many challenges, and more so when you care for them in your home. Debra Winger's line in Terms of Endearment describes it perfectly. "As hard as you think it is, you end up wishing it were that easy."  It is definitely a time to count on your friends for moral support and a shoulder to cry on.  We were not let down. 

Bob and Sue have been priceless members of our family for 25 years. I sometimes think my folks liked them better than me! They were always there for us, especially as my mom struggled with dementia and cancer until she passed in 2014 then two years later when my dad died of heart failure. 

Around the time my mom passed, I got a call from Sue, who was very upset.  Bob had been diagnosed with early-onset dementia. The news struck me like lightning. Bob was in great shape (a gentle giant), intelligent, with razor-sharp wit. He was a typical Southern California beach guy into a multitude of outdoor sports and loved history and politics as well. I thoroughly enjoyed the times we would get into lengthy discussions about politics and the sad direction our country was going. We laughed, claiming the damage could be reversed if the powers at be would listen to us. 😁

Watching my mom disappear mentally and physically was devastating but when she passed, it was comforting to know she was no longer in pain from cancer and at 86 had enjoyed a good long life.  Bob was a totally different story.  He was in his late 60's.  Seeing this strapping, athletic, intelligent, gentle giant slowly slip away was heart-wrenching. As hard as it was for Mike and me, it was more devastating for Sue. Bob was the love of her life.   As the disease progressed, his health started to deteriorate rapidly. Bob passed away peacefully a year ago today.  

I was in awe of Sue's strength and dedication as she traversed the precarious path of dementia. She was the epitome of unconditional love. And looking back, I hope Mike and I were as much support for her as she and Bob had been for us. They deserved nothing less.  

We were blessed to have Bob in our lives for as long as we did and continue to mourn his loss.

"How lucky we are to have had someone in our lives that made saying goodbye so darned hard."

Bob and Sue with my parents.