it caught me off guard as i turned onto the highway that used to take me past the rolling hills towards your beach side home
to chats and cuppas and biscuits already baked for afternoon tea and we would play our favorite game.
you’d remember the details of all the things that i’d relayed before, your mind still sharp in spite of age and because you truly cared.
and yesterday, i was unprepared for how much it twisted in my chest. then memories flooded in bittersweet
as the sun peeked through the clouds highlighting crimson and amber leaves and the green, green grass of rolling hills.
—Grief can be a visitor that catches us unexpected and unprepared. But grief is not always about the loss of a person, it might be the loss of something rather than someone. Like safety, connection, a community, a way of life or even our peace. Regardless, all grief matters and needs to be felt. Unfortunately, there is just no other way.
i hope you experience peace when the sun ascends soft, or sets with dazzling hues at the end of pleasant days
and that you pause to notice miracles like these—
but i hope you discover too, when bridges fail and roads are closed, when footing’s unsure and circumstances escalate
to find the place of calm in the center of the storm.
this, my friend, will be concrete proof that you’ve learned a thing or two about accepting the uncertain in the things you can’t predict, let alone control.
because peace when it’s peaceful —is easy
but finding the calm in the middle of the mess is the hard-fought, down in the bones deep in the soul, radical form of trust that remarkably endures.
********** "I lift up my eyes to the mountains— where does my help come from? My help comes from the Lord, the Maker of heaven and earth." (Ps. 121:1-2) **********
even though logic says different, a part of you does not believe it’s normal to be imperfect.
that you will make mistakes, miss some detail or take wrong turns no matter how you try. but let me remind you, imperfect is human
and while on your journey it’s true that you will learn and you will grow, i hate to burst this bubble, but you will never reach that highest pinnacled peak of perfection.
the sooner you welcome this the sooner you will stop inflicting self-pain harsh,
striving to walk a path you were never-ever meant to even begin.
so, come on over to the place some of us humans live and join in the ranks of those just doing the best we can.
where we don’t stop growing or trying, but when we don’t meet every mark we choose, we say, “you know that’s okay. perhaps that goal was unrealistic, or possibly even unkind. i can adjust and start again.”
and grow to not fear your certain, imminent mistakes. they are part of the journey, par for the course, yet they do not ever define.
i remember how when we were young, my brother would always pray not as if he was starting, but joining in on a conversation already in motion. “and God,” he would consistently begin. “and God,” an ongoing conversation with a father who already listened.
later as i became an ‘expert’ prayer storming the gates of heaven with request after ardent request, i began to grow tired and stretched and wondered if perhaps something was inherently amiss…
and while it didn’t appear a gift at first, i was gifted a season of fragility where i could do little else but to sit and wait. heart wide open, because that heart was broken.
and instead of all the effort intensity, the endless cries of ‘should,’ the most i could muster was to open my eyes, locate His face and learn that no matter what i did or didn’t do, the eternal kindness of his gaze was always fixed on me.
and together we would sit in silence until maybe a word or a phrase bubbled up and overflowed. and sometimes he’d whisper back, “i’ve got this,” or other things like these, but i would always be reminded that no matter how weak i am, he’s strong. and no matter how lonely or tired discouraged or spent, he is a fountain of living water fresh
i learned again that prayer is about connection and that i was never meant to power right in to consume a product, make a transaction
but to pause and reflect that our Father in heaven is already here, and when i turn towards his magnificent loving, powerful gaze —it’s already turned towards me.
so really, “and God,” is actually a perfect way to join back in on this ongoing conversation again.
you are never forgotten no matter how long the journey has been, in spite of how alone the road seems right now.
the heavens may have felt silent for quite an extended time.
but please pause and recall his promise that you are still seen and you are still loved.
your name’s still engraved across the immortal palm of the Maker’s capable hand. a careful noting indelible of something never to be forgotten. the outward sincere expression of an eternally faithful heart
and if right now you’re unsure that he recalls your needs your present circumstance, keep on knocking at the door
i was born with north american english spoken in my ears, flowing from my tongue and ‘homely’ was a word only whispered from the side of mouths, quiet.
“that’s a rather homely baby,” is not a phrase i would have ever said, a comment unkind about the face or appearance of another.
so, the first time someone in another country effusively said, “your house is so homely!” i was completely confused, but realized offence was never meant.
and years before, after my first return to the islands after visiting ‘back home,’ we popped up the road to say hello to dear fijian friends. “you’ve gone fat!” was declared with welcoming hug and kiss upon the cheek
and sensing my confusion, the speaker swiftly said, “no, no, your family was happy to see you. they fed you well and that is good. we wouldn’t think they really loved you otherwise.” and i later learned that a flirty word called to someone else passing by actually meant ‘fat.’ (i know of multiple marriages that eventually sparked from this)
so even now, in a land that is my home but wasn’t mine from birth, i control my face and habitually pause when i’m not sure what was meant.
this limits me from winning the odd potential fight, but is a recipe for peace and more friends than enemies.
when you find yourself in a battle fierce consuming your bandwidth, constant in thoughts overthinking on overdrive, ask yourself a couple of things:
what part of me is leading this fight? a portion unhealed, ensuing from a place of pain? or an intentional, mindful self, my chosen values to guide the way?
and who am i fighting for? a version of me that wasn't able to right a similar wrong, desperately longing to try again? or the actual subject, the issue, right here, right now in this?
because nuances always matter in how you approach these things, one from a place of freedom: aware, considered, controlled. the other relentlessly, harmfully fuelled. a whirlwind of pain.
i hardly ever wear the colour white not just because it doesn’t suit my skin but because white for me (or any light colour really) is a magnet for all sorts of things that ruin pristine with clumsy.
and i am always convinced that it will take me less time then it does to prepare for my day—that i can sit there ten minutes longer lost in the thoughts in my head, even though experience has proved otherwise countless times.
i usually have a bruise somewhere on my skin, not clocking the distance required to navigate around a table, my own bedframe or a car door.
and while i’m frequently good one-to-one, i’m often unsure if i will enjoy large groups or leave overwhelmed, needing to recharge. suddenly fading in ability to make sense of words, mouths moving but mind not comprehending.
i love people and want to be with them trading smiles and stories and good will —but some days, when i have a choice home is my very best friend, safe.
my mind moves fast, makes connections quick, multilayered thinking. making me good at concepts in general, even if details might slip my mind, but i will likely miss the turn off on the road ahead forgetting where i’m going as thoughts run free.
if i have cut you off in conversation, i apologize. i promise i didn’t mean to. i’m excited by the content and contextually predicted what you were about to say so my brain thought you were finished.
i gather information from around, noticing details and subtle changes without trying and i wonder how many lyrics to songs i’ve gained simply walking through shops because if music is playing, my ear can’t help but hear.
(i wish i remembered details of complicated concepts instead of wasting so much space with lyrical words. that would seem more helpful really!)
but this is my mind, this is who i am and it’s taken me years upon years to realize that i’m absolutely fine and actually have strengths just by being me.
there was a time when it felt as if someone else wrote the story that was your very own life and created with harsh words cruel pictures of who you were
indicating the flaws that were theirs were actually yours, and you knew this was unfair, untrue but these words, they were frequent and slowly began to seep beneath your skin, regardless
and even through you resisted so hard, at times they made their way right through your beating heart.
this image that someone else penned has lingered and in your most vulnerable of moments you still carry the taint of hurtful, projected words
but let me tell you this, you were not the one who held the pen. you were never the one who formed those dreadful phrases or wrote distorted words.
you were simply there targeted.
and now what you can do is to pick up the pen and write anything at all that you choose. a story that’s yours and absolutely should have been yours all along
Heather Pound 