We’ve been suspended between what was and what may be.
A year in and it appears the end is not yet in sight.
Much has been stripped bare; much lost.
We are ready for renewal; a reason to hope.
Nature is singing a song orchestrated by God.
Color is showing up in bold splashes begging for our attention.
Will we look on hesitantly or embrace the promise?
Can we have faith that God never forsakes us; trust his plan?
We can’t survive in limbo; we can’t shelter forever.
We have to begin living. Again.
Quiet ourselves and listen.
Do you hear?
Life is stirring.
Hope resides here.
Yet this I call to mind and therefore I have hope: Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are NEW EVERY MORNING; great is your faithfulness.
But He was wounded for our transgressions, He was bruised for our iniquities; The chastisement for our peace was upon Him, And by His stripes, we are healed. (Isaiah 53:5 NKJV)
As many of you know my mother wrote poetry. She was never formally published but I wish we had pursued that while she was alive. She was in a poetry writing group for a while and had a few published in a couple of newspapers. She also generously shared poems with others when she felt a poem had a message that could encourage the person in whatever circumstance they found themselves. If you have a handwritten copy of one of her poems I hope you keep it as a treasure.
I promised her when she was in hospice that I was going to see that her poetry was published for the whole world to read. I have published a few on my blog, but I have plans, God willing to do a book of her poetry. Most of her poems were written in the mid-seventies through the mid-eighties. They were actually quite good; some, a little rough around the edges, needing some final editing.
In 1975 during Holy Week, on Good Friday, she wrote an Easter Poem and titled it Hallelujah. Because of the repeating refrain of This is Easter Morn I thought about changing the title of the poem but decided that the whole concept of Easter is definitely one big Hallelujah and that must be how she felt about it, so I left her title. I’d like to share it with you:
Happy Easter! I hope you find a church and attend on Easter Sunday to Worship our Risen Savior!
Celebrating in Grace,
Teresa
If you haven’t read it yet, I shared a whole series about losing my Mom to Alzheimer’s. I shared a few of her poems throughout the series. You can click here to check it out.
He draws me nearer and nearer to his heavenly throne
and let’s me see visions of that city fair
I fancy I see loved ones perfectly at home
Basking in the sunshine of his presence – God’s son!
Written by
Letha Bernice Tackett
April 3, 1982
I wrote on Day 3 That Heaven’s Sounding Sweeter All the Time. I remember the night I first had those thoughts. I was cocooned in the upstairs room that my Mom had wallpapered so beautifully. I was waiting for sleep to come and thoughts flooded my mind and I spoke them into my phone app so I wouldn’t forget them.
In those moments if Jesus had said come I would have gone gladly. Honestly, I think in those moments the reality of heaven spread over me in a way it never had before.
It is beginning to dawn on me that we have to live in the reality of heaven’s sweetness in order to truly be at peace in this life. We don’t really belong to this world if we are in Christ; We are just pilgrims passing through.
Clicking on the ladybug graphic will take you to the first page in this series with links to the daily posts. Thanks for reading!
POSTSCRIPT:
Thank you so much for reading along with me on this grief journey. I have many more stories to share when the time is right, but for now, if you will grant me grace, I am going to stop shy of the 31 days. I will be spending the day Saturday with a dear friend and then going home to spend a few days with my Dad.
I will probably take next week off, then when I’m back home I want to do a recap of what the past few weeks have taught me about my grief journey. I am not naive enough to think that I can write for a few days and be over the grief. Grief is an ongoing journey and once you have had a great loss it will always be with you, so I’m sure there will be many things to discover going forward.
I will be back to share more stories of my Mom, family, and other things. I hope that you will stick around and continue reading. I hope you have found hope and encouragement during this series. I know you have been a tremendous encouragement to me. Many of you have been gracious to tell me and that has been a blessing.
I hope you have enjoyed the poems of my mother’s that I have shared with you. If they bring you comfort you are free to share but please make sure you credit them to her. I’m hoping to find a way to publish all her poems in a collection. I think that would please her very much. She was a wonderful, creative, caring person and I want to pass her legacy on to her family and friends.
What is it that comes trespassing on my threshold,
Trying to seize me as its prey?
It has come unexpectedly; a peculiar unwanted guest.
It seems to be a shadow, robbing self of its rest.
Countless times it comes to scores with me
In sickness, peril, or accidents unavoidable.
It is there, this dreaded enemy;
It seems to be allowing time, yet it has no timetable.
Is there no way to escape that my spirit might be free
From this visitor who at my appointed time will join ranks with me?
To think I could escape would be pretending a farce.
I’d be robbed all joys of living; left hopeless without faith.
Ah! There is another victor stronger than death itself.
By the eye of faith, I vision everlasting life.
My faith soars upward as on an eagle’s wing
Christ’s is the final victory; O death where is thy sting!
Written By Letha Bernice Tackett
Fall 1975
“I do believe Christ is the only hope.” Those words were written by my Mom at the end of the above poem. She was right. Christ is our only hope. If we are in Christ, death has no victory over us. She is now enjoying everlasting life. Even in my grief, I recognize that the victory is now hers and I am happy that she is soaring on Eagles wings.
Grace for the journey,
Teresa
Come back tomorrow for more of the journey? Just a reminder that I usually post later in the day. Clicking on the ladybug graphic will take you to the first page in this series with links to the daily posts. Thanks for reading!
Because of the Lord’s great love, we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.
Lamentations 3:22-23
Journal – Thoughts from September 26, 2018:
The day we took Mom to hospice my cousin Patsy was with us. She was a great support to us, not just during hospice, but from the beginning of the Alzheimer’s journey. She is still in our corner and I am thankful for her. We tell her she is the oldest child, Mom’s first child as Mom helped care for her when she was a baby. She calls to check on us and she has come down to spend time with my father. I don’t think we could handle this journey without her.
Patsy had a place in Mom’s heart long before she had her own children. Which is why I tell Patsy she is the older sister.
Patsy stayed with Mom that first night in Hospice while I took Dad home. It had rained earlier and as we were driving home there was a beautiful rainbow in the sky. A reminder of God’s faithfulness. I knew it was a message for us that all would be well. I remember going to bed that night praying for God to be with Mom and for his will to be done. I was hoping for some kind of miracle; hoping that the x-ray they were taking would show nothing broken even though we’d already been told that it was more than likely. Still, I was finding hope in a rainbow.
The next morning when we arrived back at hospice the doctor came in and confirmed our worst fears, that she was, in fact, suffering from a terminal injury. I remember letting the news sink in and going a little numb. No matter how much you are told in advance, you are never truly prepared for the moment when you have to face the inevitable. We made calls to the family and prepared to stay by her side for as long as she was with us.
That second evening my Dad planned to stay and Patsy was going to go back home with me. Before we left we ran out to get dinner for my dad. On the way to the restaurant once again there was a rainbow in the sky. Another promise. This time I knew the promise did not hold a miracle this side of heaven but instead was a reminder that God is faithful, even in death. It was something to hold on to. He would give us new mercies.
When we knew that Mom would not be coming home again and that we’d need to be making arrangements for a service, Dad said he wanted one of Mom’s poems to be put on the memorial card and read at her service. While looking through her poetry I came across one she’d written in 1974 called, The Rainbow. It was the only choice because God had already pointed it out to us in the sky.
Come back tomorrow for more of the journey? Just a reminder that I usually post later in the day. Clicking on the ladybug graphic will take you to the first page in this series with links to the daily posts. Thanks for reading!
Teresa L Hardymon 