why I write

Sometimes I wonder why I write. And then I wonder why I blog. And then, sometimes, I get an answer.
I was poking around the blogosphere today and I stumbled a blog which linked back to here. Observant readers of Written Wind will note that I also link there, however, visiting hasn't made the high priority list this past week. The poem for today was, for me, an answer.

Riveted

It is possible that things will not get better
than they are now, or have been known to be.
It is possible that we are past the middle now.
It is possible that we have crossed the great water
without knowing it, and stand now on the other side.
Yes: I think that we have crossed it. Now
we are being given tickets, and they are not
tickets to the show we had been thinking of,
but to a different show, clearly inferior.

Check again: it is our own name on the envelope.
The tickets are to that other show.

It is possible that we will walk out of the darkened hall
without waiting for the last act: people do.
Some people do. But it is probable
that we will stay seated in our narrow seats
all through the tedious denoument
to the unsurprising end--riveted, as it were:
spellbound by our own imperfect lives
because they are lives,
and because they are ours.
--By Robyn Sarah from A Day's Grace

I write because poetry doesn't stay where we put it. I write because I need to for me, to work out and say things that I think and feel and believe and notice. I blog because my writing isn't my own, it doesn't stay where I put it, it gets up and tries to sneak off into your lives. So, it's easier to just give it away.
And today I needed this poem to sneak off into my life. I needed Robyn Sarah's reminder that life isn't always what we expect or want. And I needed the reminder that life--imperfect and unexpected, is still spellbinding, still something we all want.
Because this past week in my life hasn't been spellbinding. It has been tough and sad and I've spent too much of it crying or wanting to cry. This past week hasn't been what I expected and it hasn't been what I wanted. But it has been my life. Mine. The tickets, or the pre-operative orders, have my name on them. Mine.
Lord, give me faith to be strong. Amen

No Vacations

One of my friends and I were talking recently about how long it has been since either of us has truly been on vacation. Something about being perpetually nearly broke students gets in the way. So I've been thinking about vacations. About how much fun it would be to escape from the day to day aspects of life (laundry, homework, making meals, cleaning) for awhile. To go somewhere--perhaps the stereotypical beach getaway with little umbrella topped drinks, and play and sleep and laze about for a few (relatively) guilt free days.
Tonight I was thinking about how different these health issues are for me than for my family. For my family this is a rude and startling interruption of all of our lives. For them this has a beginning (a series of phone calls last week) and will have an end (successful surgery). I know that is a more stark view than they would voice, because I have seen their stress over my MRI scans and blood work. I know that this is not clear cut for any of us. They, however, achieve respite, vacations if you will. They have stress, but it is based on more isolated incidents.
For me, there is never any vacation. I live with the medications, treatments, and vigilance over any signs of reoccurrence daily. I live in the pattern of doctor's visits and tests. And I don't get vacations. It has been years now of being soaked in this way of life, this world. It has been long enough that it no longer always weighs heavily on me, but I am never unaware of all of the possibilities. And despite all of that, this still caught me completely off guard. There was no warning, nothing I could have done to prevent this.
No vacations. No respite.

Explaining the last post

As a few of you know, and long-term readers of my other blog may have suspected, I've had a fairly eventful life, healthwise. And apparently, it is not over.

Last week I learned that my previous health issues have reoccured. Which means that I get to do have this procedure again in about two weeks.

This is both serious and, as far as serious issues go, rather ordinary. It is deeply upsetting for me and my family and throws my entire life up into the air.

Which is part of the reason I have started posting here. I have come to the conclusion that I want to reserve my other blog for poetry, but I also need a forum to sort through some of my issues and rants, and I wanted to share this news with you all. This world has become important to me and this is the kind of news that needs to be shared.

There are a hundred things I want to say and the words for any of them escape me. I will have more to say here than I do now.

This is another day, O Lord. I know not what it will bring forth, but make me ready, Lord, for whatever it may be. If I am to stand up, help me to stand bravely. If I am to sit still, help me to sit quietly. If I am to lie low, help me to do it patiently. And if I am to do nothing, let me do it gallantly. Make these words more than words, and give me the Spirit of Jesus. Amen.

Bad news

I've noticed something, there is no good way to deliver bad news. There's no way to gently lead into it. There's no way to share bad news, the really bad life shattering kind, without hurting everyone. Each person leaves these conversations in pain. Pain because their life has been shattered. Pain because the life of someone close to them has been shattered. Nothing lessens the blow. The world always seems a little skewed at the end of these conversations. A little starker. The grays become more pronounced; the shadows more menacing.
I hate this. I hate what it does to me, to the people around me. I hate how much it hurts.
And I know that this too is life. The good and the joyful inextricably mixed with the sad and the tragic. It happens all around us. It happens to us.
Lord have mercy.
Christ have mercy.
Lord have mercy.