Today, I had lunch with my oldest sister. It was a good day. We walked around downtown & enjoyed catching up. I've missed her a lot & I'm glad for what God is doing in my family, more & more every day.
Today, I also gave a reading of a rough draft of my latest poem. I recently visited a friend in the hospital & caught her coming out of surgery. It wasn't a terribly serious procedure, but just seeing my loved ones in pain or in illness breaks my heart. I had to pray for courage not to cry in front of her; to distract my instincts, I made lame jokes, my skin blushed, my voice was shaky. Soon after, I got in my car & cried. I prayed all the way home. And a month later, I started writing about the visit's affects...
Seeing friends in hospital beds brings tears to my eyes.
I no longer want to live as if that could never be me.
I want to live like a coma victim; they're probably better off spiritually than I am anyway- they're spiritually awake.
And no matter what science says, I don't think their bodies fail; I think they meet God & decide they're not ready to wake up. "Just a little longer, Dad."
I don't blame them for wanting to stay asleep.
I wouldn't blame you for wanting to sleep. I want to sleep, too, if it means waking up.
I want to live like a coma victim.
I want to wake up on the other side with, not a chincy glass vase with fertilized flowers, but an endless world full of flowers from God; not one flower saying "Get well", but a trillion flowers saying "Welcome home".
My thoughts are incomplete & unedited. To be continued...
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