She wanted to go to German Village. My granddaughter was visiting For three days, and She got to choose our activities. For the first time ever, it Was just the two of us. We had already shopped Till we dropped, Not an easy task finding Clothes for her petite size. We also watched a great Movie that required Kleenexes, At least for me. So on our last day she Navigated our way down town. Before exploring the bookstore With 32 rooms, We stopped at the coffee shop Next door. She's only sixteen, but already Likes coffee. We shared a banana walnut Muffin, And as we sipped our brew, I studied her pretty face Across the table. She resembles her Grandpa Hsu Even though they don't share each Other's genes. It was no accident that God brought Them both from China, Min, on a ship, and she on a Plane, From the ends of the earth They came To become part of me. She's kind and helpful. She likes to read. She's quiet and I'm loud. As we sat there in the Coffee shop, I espoused my thoughts on Life, and God, and Faith. I emphasized the fact that Every person matters. As I spouted my "wisdom", She listened politely, adding A comment or question When I stopped to take a Breath. I wondered whether I was being Boring, or overbearing, or Embarrassing her with my grandiose Gestures that make my Daughters cringe. But then she looked at me and Said, "I enjoy spending time With you." Wow! I beamed! I drove her half-way home to Meet up with her mom. And as I hugged her goodbye, I reminded her once again that She's my triple LLL. She's little. She's Lia. And she's loved. |
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My husband, Min, collapsed
With a brain aneurysm. He lived about five weeks. My brother lived just a Few short hours After a traffic accident. My Jack has been slipping Away for months, Over two years now. His body, His mind are slowly, Persistently Wasting away. It seems to me that a Slow goodbye is Hardest. I was prepared this time.
The homeless lady, Holding her sign, Was back at her Usual spot. I quickly parked my Car, grabbed my "goody bag" From the trunk, and crossed The street to stand Beside her. Since it was drizzling, I held the umbrella over Both of us and asked her Name. "It's B.J.," She said. She was stick thin with A straggly pony Tail. She had so few teeth I Wondered whether she Could eat the trail mix in The bag. "Would you like to share Your story?" I asked. "Things are hard. I can't keep the car running. I live with my daughter. We live in the car." Was any of it true? I didn't know. In a few words, I shared Jesus with her. I pointed out the Bible In the bag. I looked her straight in the Eyes and held my Gaze. "You are important to God. He loves you, and I love you Too." And then I prayed. Huddled under the umbrella I Asked Jesus to meet her Needs and bring her to Himself. I left her standing there. And as I drove away, I wondered what I will do When I see her back at her Spot again. I didn't want to.
He had lured the young Woman into a morass of Sin. He repulsed me. Until Jesus confronted me. "I died for that one Too, Just like I died for You." So I humbly added his Name to my prayer list. Now, each morning when I pray for her, I also pray for him. I pray each morning for
Divine appointments. Why, then, When someone unexpectedly Calls on the phone or Knocks at my door while I'm having my devotions, Do I view them as Interruptions? I got the call this morning.
The cancer overtook her, And my neighbor died. But she was more than a Neighbor. She was my friend. Her condo faces Mine. I saw her getting her paper In the morning, Still in her nightgown. I saw the light in her Living room at night, Telling me everything Was all right. We pulled each other's garbage Cans to the garage. We called when we needed An egg, Or milk, Or just to talk. We ate out together and Drove slowly through the Countryside breathing in the Beauty we both enjoyed. She fed the birds. I loved watching the colorful Feathered ones Stop by her feeder for their Midmorning snack. She was a musician too. As she played her grand piano, The grand music flowed from Her living room to Mine. Once, much to our delight, She treated us to a glorious Recital. When she was away, I Collected her paper, Watered her flowers, Kept an eye out till she Came back. But now, The bird feeder is empty. The lovely music is Gone. And it still hasn't sunk in That Barbara is never coming Home. Thirty nine years ago today my husband, Min, died. In his memory I'm copying a poem from my book MENDING. The girls had begged me to go to the fireworks that night. I went, knowing Min was in a coma and could have lingered for days.
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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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