Sometimes, I just want to write...I need to write. I'm not good with words out loud. They choke in my throat and trip over my tongue. My mind is thinking of the "right" way to say things but it usually doesn't come out that way.
So, I write...I can change it and tweak it until it says what I want it to say. At least in my mind, I understand all the nuances that may be lost to those who read what I scribble. It's the meandering. The pondering too much. Then, when I open my mouth, no matter how well I think I have prepared for this verbal thought, it stumbles out in a sentence that sounds like it just crawled out from a rocky cave. Not well formed or eloquent...not even really me...just a crude fragment with a few hesitations and stutters. At least that's how it sounds to me. The fear of making a mistake or sounding stupid manifests in what tumbles out.
Strife. Stress. Bickering and bitterness. Things I usually try to avoid. But other times, I meet them head on with a return fire that spews as much venom as the initial strike. Justification...that's what I'm saying...if you're going to stir it up, prepare to defend your stand because I'm gonna defend mine. The walls of this fortress have been thickening over time and they've stood strong through a lot.
Let Sleeping Dogs Lie.
True enough if you've ever seen a loyal dog roused by what could be perceived as an attack on it's master.
But metaphorically, it's a warning to heed the frenzy of barking, maybe even growling, that comes with the bleary eyes, tail tucked or pointed straight, the hair on it's back rising in a vertical spine like a razor back hog. It reflects the stir of activity and angst that flows from the stirred ashes of a long dead fire to fan the flames of anger, bitterness and unforgiveness to life once more. Not easy. I try. I try again.
Into the glow of plans for a new life and a new family come the dark clouds that rain on everyone's parade. As though the plans for a life together, at least started in a foreign land far away from family...new babies grown before we meet them, and the matriarchs on both sides of the family dealing with the ravages of time on their health and mind, weren't enough to cause me to reach for the light in order to hang onto hope. This.
Pondering My Meanderings... with much herbal love, Wanderer
So, I write...I can change it and tweak it until it says what I want it to say. At least in my mind, I understand all the nuances that may be lost to those who read what I scribble. It's the meandering. The pondering too much. Then, when I open my mouth, no matter how well I think I have prepared for this verbal thought, it stumbles out in a sentence that sounds like it just crawled out from a rocky cave. Not well formed or eloquent...not even really me...just a crude fragment with a few hesitations and stutters. At least that's how it sounds to me. The fear of making a mistake or sounding stupid manifests in what tumbles out.
Strife. Stress. Bickering and bitterness. Things I usually try to avoid. But other times, I meet them head on with a return fire that spews as much venom as the initial strike. Justification...that's what I'm saying...if you're going to stir it up, prepare to defend your stand because I'm gonna defend mine. The walls of this fortress have been thickening over time and they've stood strong through a lot.
Let Sleeping Dogs Lie.
True enough if you've ever seen a loyal dog roused by what could be perceived as an attack on it's master.
But metaphorically, it's a warning to heed the frenzy of barking, maybe even growling, that comes with the bleary eyes, tail tucked or pointed straight, the hair on it's back rising in a vertical spine like a razor back hog. It reflects the stir of activity and angst that flows from the stirred ashes of a long dead fire to fan the flames of anger, bitterness and unforgiveness to life once more. Not easy. I try. I try again.
Into the glow of plans for a new life and a new family come the dark clouds that rain on everyone's parade. As though the plans for a life together, at least started in a foreign land far away from family...new babies grown before we meet them, and the matriarchs on both sides of the family dealing with the ravages of time on their health and mind, weren't enough to cause me to reach for the light in order to hang onto hope. This.
This ugly thing that I've kept from those who might be most hurt by it for 23 years. I've protected and hidden the dark, horrid truth so the cycle could be broken. But there are those who could not be protected...those whose existence has been shattered by the knowledge for over a decade. They can't let it rest. They have to share the miserable tale so that all may be hurt by it as they have...raw, dirty, hateful truth...but to share the pain seems to ease the burden. Selfishness at it's best, this tale of yore. Now into the light and glory this thing hangs on the air and draws strength from the doubt and fear and disgust of it's gloom. It serves no purpose...it only shares the sadness like a blanket of smoke...and isn't that just what darkness wants? To steal the light? To hide bushels of glory behind this one huge cup of hurt?
Let it go. I know that's the thing to do and I really thought that's what I was doing by keeping it from my most beloved ones...after all, it's not my sin...not my burden...but it's become a pain for all of us...from the dark deeds of a few, generations are affected...and the joy is stolen, at least for a time.
I have a hand to hold, a palm to nestle in, that others may not know...maybe they did know but they've forgotten in the shadows where the colors, like the joy, seem so much more dim. My refuge and strength. My Protector who tells me in Exodus 14:14 to be still and know that He will fight for me. He's got my back. Thank you.
Let Sleeping Dogs Lie? ~ yes, let's.
Pondering My Meanderings... with much herbal love, Wanderer
