I’ve shared in some life altering experiences in the past several months that have both closed me up inside so I can reflect and opened me up to live life fully so I don’t miss the purpose of my being here. I want to tell the whole story yet feel resistant so others are protected because it isn’t just about me.
I now understand the conflict within when writing memoir, the unwillingness to expose, hurt or make public that which may cause problems relationally while at the same time story within keeps banging the ‘walls’ to come out.
Thus, I have not been writing. I’ve been walking, running, playing Pickleball and sitting staring into space. Even my journal hasn’t seen much of me. A big rolling ball of words have been stuck inside waiting for the right moment to spit out into story form. For now it is titles and opening lines.
A friends elderly father passed away and I was honored to be a small part of this journey for his last month at home. A daughters love and respect for her father is forever imprinted on my heart.
An extended family member – a young man, died suddenly. His funeral was both terribly sad yet filled with life, stories of his life and what God can do with it, if one lets that happen.
On a gym floor, a man drops with a heart attack and I am there. The staff put their training to action. I see, hear, react and act. I become part of a team and watch a wonder woman give life giving support. I pray.
The AED machine is used. (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Automated_external_defibrillator)
Medical help arrives. Today this man lives.
I have three and a half hours of training, then three days of work for Elections BC, in care homes which gives its residents the right to vote. For many this is the end of life and I am left confused with the blur of walkers, wheelchairs, happy or grumpy greetings and in some cases questions of ‘why am I here?’
Indeed…this is my question too. Life and death and death and life – speaking to me.