I was putting my groceries in The car when the lady approached Me with a flyer. Glancing at the message I Saw she loved Jesus and wanted Me to know Him too. Even though she was from Ghana and A "pentecostal," you would have Thought we were sisters. Actually, we were. As I gave her one of my own Tracts and a gospel bracelet, too, She opened up to me. Her husband is an atheist and She's mistreated at her job. I held her in my arms and asked The Lord to give her strength. She told me verses of courage came to Her even as I prayed, and she Quoted them for me. As we parted ways, I saw Vida slipping Her message under the wind shield wiper On yet another car. The Spirit was moving in the parking Lot on this brisk day in fall, And I discovered I'm a bit of a "Pentecostal" after all. |
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I ask God for guidance, which
Path I should take, which decision I should make. But often I'm confused I don't seem to get a clear Response. At those time I pray and Do what makes The most sense to me. I've lived enough years, now, To see that it's not looking Ahead that I see His intricate plan, His loving hand, but only When I'm looking back. Last year I didn't put up a tree.
I couldn't. Jack was gone, and so was my Christmas spirit. But today I crawled up the ladder To the attic in my garage and Handed well worn boxes down to Rachel standing on the steps Beneath me, Boxes labeled "Mantle", "Top of Piano", "Sideboard". She helped me assemble a new Little tree for the end table in My living room. Tomorrow I'll open the boxes And begin. I don't know whether I will Ever again celebrate Christmas with A totally happy heart, But I'm decorating again this year, And it's a start.
When I read my granddaughter's writing assignment for her English class, I asked whether I could post it on my blog for Thanksgiving. She agreed. Thank you, Lia, for sharing your thoughts about Thanksgiving at Grandma's. Blessed Thanksgiving to you all. A Vacant Seat and a Dampened Mood Warmth radiates through me as I leave the frigid air behind and step into the bustling kitchen. Dishes clatter and voices chatter as Grandma checks the stuffing, Mom gets the Green Bean Casserole in the oven, and Aunt Rachel sets her gooey Orange Jell-O in the refrigerator. When Grandma looks over and sees me, she comes over to give me a warm and loving hug. After we exchange a few pleasantries, I drop my belongings off and hug all my other relatives; all except one. A few minutes later, Grandma announces, “The food is ready!” We all gather around the table and hold hands; all but one. He is usually the one to say grace, but not today. Today it is the widow’s turn. Grandma thanks God for everyone making it safely through the Thanksgiving traffic, the food, and most importantly, a day to rejoice, be glad, and be thankful. While we eat the savory pumpkin pie and drink the sweet apple cider, we talk about recent events and future events; sad events and happy events. Occasionally there is laughter, but there is something in the air. Something other than the succulent smells of turkey, stuffing, and corn casserole. I look to the empty seat by Grandma. We all feel it: the loneliness, the vacancy. One day he had told Grandma, “I want to go home.” “You are home,” she replied, thinking he was talking about the house. A few weeks later his wish was granted and he was Home. His death was bitter-sweet. It hurt seeing him disoriented and struggling, but we all know where he went and we all know he is happy where he is now. Vacancy
Amidst the hustle and bustle, The chitter and chatter, There sits an empty seat, All alone with no one to occupy it. Beyond this place, There is another space, This one with celebration and elation, With no misery or mourning. In this place there is a man, A man who used to fill that empty seat Amidst the hustle and bustle, The chitter and chatter.
The ushers passed out the
Large post cards in the middle of Our Thanksgiving service. Printed in large letters on the Front was, "I thank God for you." The pastor gave us instructions. "Write a note to someone who Helped you when you were in A dark valley. Do it now." And as he sat on the step on The platform to write his Thanks, I sat in the pew and Wrote mine. I thanked my friend who wrapped Me and my girls in her arms when My husband, their daddy died. I'll never forget. The tears came as I wrote the note. But I was surprised as I was walking out of the Sancutary when a dear Elderly friend placed a Card in my hand. It simply said, "Thank you, Dorothy, for Being there for me." She was referring to her dark, Desperate experience of probably Forty years ago. She hadn't forgotten either. As I hugged her, the tears Surfaced again. I'll mail my post card to Alice today, And I'll stick Helen's note on my Mirror, a tender reminder of The joyous joy in giving and Receiving thanks.
When I bow before You, Lord,
And my heart is so heavy I can't Form a single word, I just crouch in your presence, Silent, Mute, Knowing you are reading my Thoughts, Praying for me, Speaking the words I Can't utter, And feeling the pain I Can't describe. I'm celebrating an anniversay
Today. It's not of a marriage, but of a Death. How do you celebrate an event Like that? I'll go to church as usual and spend Time with Jack's family just to reminisce. I'll look back at the heartache that only God and I knew about and which I Could never adequately express. I'll think about Jack, and how pleased He'd be that I stretched My wings, Tried new things like praying At the State Fair, Writing poems for a blog, Giving out gospel bracelets to Neighbors, to strangers. There won't be any cake today, No party, but I'll read through all the cards I Received a year ago, Cards that mean more to me now That I'm not in a fog. I'll listen to the song that seems like It was written just for him, "Another Soldier's Coming Home." And I'll cry on my Father's shoulder Thanking Him for the love that Created such pain. |
Dorothy Kalb Hsu Seitzinger
Writing poetry has helped me process and express my sorrows and joys, my concerns and blessings. "Life is hard, but God is good!" Archives
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