Tuesday's Trust - Standing Out like a Black Butterfly in My Grief

Tuesday's Trust

Standing Out like a Black Butterfly in My Grief

Black butterfly charred with ashes of brown

and grey, landed in my garden today...

Of all the beautiful colors aroun',

Why would God send a black butterfly down?

God, I oft feel like that black butterfly

of ashes, with my wings tattered and gashed...

And I oft wonder, under Your blue sky,

Why do You let wander, one grief-struck as I?

In a world full of color, I stand out,

Dark, black, torn, and forlorn~e'er sorrowing,

While vibrant, lively people flit about,

Sure of themselves, seemingly sure of their route.

Of all the beautiful colors aroun',

Why would God send a black butterfly down?

Of all the beautiful people aroun',

Why would God send a grieving mother down?

God, in Your world, I know it takes all kinds...

I trust,

Through my tattered wings,

Your love still shines...

Poem - Black Butterfly - Angie Bennett Prince - 7/5/10

Picture: Black butterfly that flew into my garden on 7/3/10

Tuesday’s Trust - The Daffodil: Living in the Dark

Tuesday’s Trust

The Daffodil:

Living in the Dark

I look out upon my garden and see

The daffodil, sitting sprightly on ground

That once was dark, yet filled with mystery…

I look at my life, wondering where I’m bound,

Deeply ground under piles of death’s ashes.

Is there hope for new life for me as well?

All seems dark, yet Your Son shines through; flashes

Of Light break through the dark of death’s hell,

Urging me on through the dark to break through,

Reaching for Light, keep my eyes looking up,

Fight through the dark, keep my focus on You,

To hold on by Faith without giving up…

With the strength of Your hand, You pull me through

Much slower than I ever would have guessed.

Moving me slowly would build Faith’s sinew,

Breaking through fear-rocks and fighting doubt-pests

To strengthen my being for life anew,

Toughen me up for Satan’s stormy gusts

When Loss and Grief threaten to take me down…

Then suddenly through death’s dark dirt we bust

Where I see the Son shining with Light all ‘round…

http://images.flowers.vg/1024x768/daffodil.jpg

Poem – Living in the Dark – Angie B. Prince – 4/6/10

Wednesday's Woe - My Fears in the Dead of Night

Wednesday's Woe

What Do I Do With

My Fears in the Dead of Night?

If You can clothe my child in a robe of light,

You can care for me in the dead of night...

Of all Your creation, we hold Your passion;

Your heart, Your fire, in us You did fashion!

Heart to heart, Fire to fire, speak to me Lord;

Your pow'r o'ercomes the Fowler's evil hoard—

Your children made from Your image will take

Your hand in ours; Your child You'll n'er forsake...

Give us Your faith, Your vision~sustenance—

E'er does Your passionate Love hover on us!

Poem - What Do I Do With My Fears in the Dead of Night? - Angie Bennett Prince - 12/2/09

Wednesday's Woe - The Great Grief - Big Punch in the Gut

Wednesday's Woe

The Great Grief

Big Punch in the Gut

Ouch! Blam! Here we are, two once-very-normal people with a very happy marriage who happen to be mental health counselor/coach specialists as well. Sounds extremely healthy doesn't it?

Now, add The Great Grief into the mix:

The Great Grief

\ \ \ \ \ | / / / / /

– – – Blamo – – –

/ / / / / | \ \ \ \ \

Now you've got one dynamic duo blasted with dynamite.

And it ain't a pretty sight.

I feel like Wile E. Coyote who's been run over by the Road Runner; all my clever coping skills have run amuck.

All the fault-lines in this personality, all the fault-lines in this happy marriage, and all the fault lines in this precious family have been stressed to the max. And now we more closely resemble that Coyote who has been smashed into the ground with a black hole the size and shape of his body. I am wiped out. Literally!

******

Any time I step outside the safety of my home domain, I feel like Pollyanna with stars in her eyes, all hopeful and happy, to walk into Aunt Polly's room only to be flattened to the ground. Only I don't have the normal resources that young and naive Pollyana had to fall back on in order to pop back up, so I lie grounded into that ground for quite awhile. And physically exhausted from the onslaught...

******

What about you?

What is your experience of coping after your precious child has been brutally snatched out of your life by Death?

We are three years and three months into our grief, as my husband stated last night,

"In many ways, grief seems to only get worse than better as time goes on..."

Please tell us,

What is your experience with The Great Grief ?

If our comment portion of our post below doesn’t work for you, feel free to email me your answer, and with your permission, I will post some of your answers within the comments. You may email me at MotherGrieving (at) gmail (dot) com. Thank you!

Pictures:

Big Punch: ning.com

Wile E. Coyote: 4 pictures:

http://www.petcaretips.net/Wylie_TNT_City.jpg

http://bit.ly/2NnWke

http://www.cartoonspot.net/looney-tunes/wallpaper-wile-coyote-6.php

http://jeremynell.com/images/blog/2009/10/Wile-E-Coyote460.jpg

Pollyanna: http://bit.ly/3muBud

Pollyanna and Aunt Polly: http://bit.ly/3kA92j

Wednesday's Woe - Adrift

Adrift...

Yes, I knew you were a part of us...

But when by fate you had to go away,

I did not know you held the heart of us....

I did not know you were our heart’s causeway—

So our hearts went under in death’s floodway,

Leaving muddied our once clear life purpose…

Gulping salty tears, blocking breath’s airway,

We cannot breathe under such grief cumbrous,

Engulfing peace, we’re left adrift... anxious…

Coming unmoored, unsteered,

we’ve lost our way.

I don’t know why you were taken away.

Taking out hearts leaves an empty carcass…

O baby girl, were you our life’s mainstay?

Jesus, take th’ wheel; restore Your life in us!

**********

Written In a letter to his friend (Reverend) Twitchell shortly after his 24-year-old daughter Susy’s death, Samuel Clemens (Mark Twain) very poignantly said,

You know our life—

the outside of it—as the others do—

and the inside of it—which they do not.

You have seen our whole voyage.

You have seen us go to sea,

a cloud of sail, and the flag at the peak;

and you see us now, chartless, adrift—derelicts;

battered, waterlogged, our sails a ruck of rags,

our pride gone.

For it is gone. And there is nothing in its place.

The vanity of life was all we had,

and there is no more vanity left in us.

We are even ashamed of that we had;

ashamed that we trusted the promises of life….

I did know that Susy was part of us;

I did not know that she could go away,

and take our lives with her,

yet leave our dull bodies behind.

**********

Which makes me wonder,

Just how common are our child-loss agonies of feeling…adrift?

Samuel Clemens about his oldest daughter Susy, quoted in I Know This Much is True by Wally Lamb, pp. 450, 454

Photos: http://www.fotosearch.com/photos-images/adrift.html

Poem – Adrift – Angie Bennett Prince – 10/28/09

Grief’s Turbulent Sea

Grief’s Turbulent Sea

I stand atop Grief’s rocky carapace

Amidst its sea of fog swift looming up,

From mourners’ tears that glaze each barren face

As crystals of love spill from each heart’s cup.

I look and look to find my loved one there

In misty waters atop death’s deep dark,

But alas, each swelling wave roils up bare,

Yielding no living child to disembark. . . .

Oh tell me now, as I’m beside myself,

Where’s the Shore of Grief’s continental shelf?

http://simplysnickers.blogspot.com/2009/08/poetry-prompt-through-sunday-september.html with prompts bare, bark, beside

Picture: “Wanderer Above the Sea of Fog” by Caspar David Friedrich, 1818

Written 9/6/09 - Poem - Grief's Turbulent Sea - Angie Bennett Prince

Fragile Flower

Fragile Flower

I looked at the mandevilla tonight,

And I saw three dainty pink blossoms there;

Although a marvelous thrill to my sight,

Beauteous blossoms proved more than I could bear...

The beauty of God pierced through to my soul;

The Creator God in all His finesse,

Created with care . . . but sin takes its toll . . .

My tears would soon water the flow’rs pink dress.

“My world was perfect, Miss Mandevilla,

Tied in a bow like your pretty blossom;

Now my world weeps like the weeping willow

Midst God’s world, still filled with beauty awesome.”

Each time I looked at each dainty pink flow’r

Radiating beauty, its only duty,

The tears again would quickly overpow’r,

Flooding mem’ries of my sweet baby’s beauty . . .

Lord, You’re so present in Your creation;

Each flower petal bears Your fingerprint!

Yet Satan’s presence in the equation

Will destroy it all . . . in devastation . . . ?!

Once I was strong, but now I’m rendered weak,

So strong: husband and children all ‘round me,

All full of Your love, Your will we did seek—

. . . Now plundered, ravaged by the Enemy.

When I see th’ beauteous mandevilla, Lord,

I catch a glimpse of Heaven filled with You:

No sin, no decay, no devastation . . .

Just You—worshipped by saints—their reward:

To live daily within Your Heavenly view,

In robes washed white, restored to perfection.

But I—I’m still here Lord—dealing with death,

Grieving through each day, though I take life’s breath,

With glimpses of You, but living in hell . . .

How to live in vic’try? Would someone pray tell?

Meanwhile, You say, “My grace is sufficient,

For My pow’r is made perfect in weakness;

Ev’rywhere Satan makes you deficient,

Enables Me to shine . . . through your meekness . . .”

O Creator God, You’ll overpower

Satan’s destruction of each fragile flower . . .

You've already restored my baby girl!

. . . Grant me grace to live in this broken world. . .

Lord, may I be like each dainty pink flow’r,

Radiating (Your) Beauty, my only duty,

And when my tears quickly overpow’r,

Flood my memory with Your awesome beauty. . .

http://infogizmo.com/downhome/flowers1.html

Written 7/22/09 – Fragile Flower – Angie Bennett Prince