Treasure Chest....

 As polyradiculitis has stolen so much from my life, I continue to mourn...

Too often, I then judge myself...

The judgement is disguised as, "But think of all the good in your life, Carol..." 

I think of the Homeless, the Bereaved, the Poor, the Orphan, the War-torn...

And I often think of Dad, who lived over 12 years as a quadriplegic. 

If he could appear in bodily form, I think he would agree that even though he couldn't move his body, he found ways to thrive through those years. 

And he couldn't have done it without Mom. 

Recently as I've thought about my current crippled-in-body-and-brain condition, I've thought-felt that I have not allowed sufficient grieving of the piled-up losses. 

And it's not just the losses from Poly Rad, but other losses, some decades old.

Instead of allowing myself to feel into the caverns left by the losses, I try to fill up those caverns with the next thing. 

Can I allow those losses a voice, to speak from the deepest caverns in my soul?

To sit with the losses...

Allow any images to arise...

Ask what is it I am grieving? 

What color is it? 

Where do I feel it in my body?

~*~

When Granddaughter came into the world this past May, I felt joy and some trepidation. Joy in that she is healthy and that her parents love her dearly. Trepidation in that, "What will the world be like as she grows up?" I imagine every grandparent thinks something along those lines. I counter this with the reminder that all known living beings have endured through incredible tragedies and sometimes horrendous atrocities; it's part of being alive on this planet. 

I thought I had prepared myself for her arrival - prepared myself emotionally for the fact that I am unable to help with her infant and baby care. Due to polyradiculitis, I am unable to pick her up or carry her or change a diaper. My arms and hands are too weak. The reality of that fact was one more item on my growing can't-do list. 

Some might say, "Don't confess that, that you can't do!" 

The advice is noted, but would they say to the blind, "Don't confess that you can't see!"? 

I guess there's no real way to prepare for many losses, until they arrive. 

And I grieved, for months after her birth, that I was unable to care for my granddaughter, to help out. 

As a response I would continually remind myself of the silver linings...

And then I'd grieve again...

A couple weeks ago, I took a trip to see Granddaughter. It's not an easy drive. I take the interstate and have to drive through Charlotte. Lord, I don't like that close traffic at the speeds one has to drive to keep from being run over. I most always drive the back roads home which takes over three hours, but at least I'm not wracked by the constant vigilance of zooming among giant tin cans on wheels. 

This last visit with Granddaughter was the most joyful I'd experienced. She can now sit up and crawl. And she loves music!!! I used to "teach" preschool music, singing and dancing with little people. So, this last visit, as she sat in front of me and me in front of her, our eyes and energies connected, as we bopped and clapped our thighs and laughed. 

Son said to me, "Mom, that was a real help. I was able to get some uninterrupted clean-up done in the kitchen. Thanks!" 

My heart sang...

I found my niche...

As Granddaughter gets older, I'll take my big bag of musical instruments...

It can be Memaw's Music Bag...

That is a rich life Carol...

Despite the losses, and maybe in part because of them, you have a huge treasure chest...

And there's still room in it for more...

~*~

One of the songs we shared...

Cypress Choral Music with All God's Critters...