Thursday, May 17, 2018

All and Everything I Need to Say~

As I bend down to pick up
the five gallon water bottle,
I remember the words of my husband -
spoken to me only a hand full of times,
when only a hand full of reasons
found me reaching for one,
instead of him.

"Be careful, Beautiful.
Don't hurt your back.
Use your legs to lift it, Baby."

Upon hearing his wise counsel,
I would always look at him and smile,
then reach down and pick up the bottle.

And, it dawns on me again tonight,
as I'm heaving this heavy monstrosity
up into my arms
to carry into the kitchen,
 - just like those hand full of times before -
I have no idea what I am using
to lift this bottle.

"Am I using my legs?"

The only answer I can give myself
is the shrug of my shoulders,
only that's hard to do when one is
lugging a five gallon water bottle into the kitchen,
so I don't reply at all.

But, the not being able to reply
doesn't stop me from wondering.

"What does that even mean?
Use your legs?  How? How do you do that?
Use your arms? Now, that. That I could understand.
But, your legs? I have no idea how to do that."

Come to think of it
now that I'm thinking about it -
there have been many words of counsel
given to me over the course
of my 52 years of life
that I have heard
and yet not had a clue one how to execute.

"You better start preparing your heart, Beautiful."

My husband had told me this a few weeks before
my father passed away.
He had seen death inch closer and closer
with his own precious mother years before
and he knew my heart wasn't ready to say goodbye.

I remember looking him right in the eye and asking,
(in a voice barely above a whisper)
"How do I do that?"

His answer:
a tender kiss to my forehead and a squeeze of my hand.

"You need to start building a new life."

I can't even begin to count
how many times these words of counsel
have made their way to my ears
after losing my husband,
followed seven months later
with losing my job.

And yet,
if I can't figure out how to use my legs to
pick up a five gallon water jug,
and if I couldn't figure out how to prepare my heart
to say goodbye to my precious Daddy,
how am I suppose to figure out how to
build a new life?

And -
surprisingly -
it is in this very question
that I find my answer.

Somehow, I just will.

Somehow,
I manage to lift and carry the water jugs.

Somehow,
I managed to wade my way through my father's passing.

Somehow,
I will manage to find my way through this season
and build a new life.

Only, it won't happen alone.
No - it will happen the way it always does.
Because,
for me,
my somehow is a Someone.

"Use your legs to lift it, Beautiful"
found me smiling up at my husband
and my heart crying out to my God -
"Help me, Jesus."

And, He did.

"You better start preparing your heart, Beautiful"
found me in the embrace of my man
and my heart crying out to my God -
"Help me, Jesus."

And, He did.

"You need to start building a new life."

This, honestly, still finds me wiping
one tear after another
(I loved my old life -
I don't want a "new" one)
and my heart crying out to my God,
"Help me, Jesus."

And, He is.

And, He will.

I place the water jug
on the ceramic water dispenser
my husband bought for me
when we first started dating -
almost 28 years ago.

As the water
gurgles and sloshes
and completely fills
what had been tapped dry,
I wipe a tear.

"Oh, sweet girl.
I know all of this caught you
completely unaware.
You had no time to prepare your heart,
(even though you wouldn't have been able to
even if you had known).
It's ok.
It is.
It's ok.
But please, please be careful, precious daughter of mine.
Don't hurt your heart.
Use my Spirit to lift you up."

Thankfully,
when it comes to these words of wise counsel
from my precious Abba Daddy,
this -
this I know how to do.

"Help me, Jesus."

It's all and everything
I need to say.







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