Home of Monty Vern
Amorphous thoughts twirling and whirling; rushing through widening gaps in my failing damn mind! Splashing forcefully against blade; Spinning my wheels and gears faster and faster til my brain releases from it’s stem and drops to the ground with a crushing force; splitting open; releasing sticky-sweet juices; enticing busy bees to sip upon each escaping thought; flying them away to their hive; and diligent ants to heft large chunks of half-ideas and quartered worries; carrying them below the soil; out of site; leaving me mindless; thoughtless; at peace, finally.
I had quite a busy work week last week and despite being already Sunday my brain has been spinning like mad. Leaving me sleepless and a touch anxious about starting the week ahead with my energy reserves too low. So I welcome the help from the bees, the ants, and any other of God’s creatures to help me let go of such excess thoughts. I know it’s more trendy to seek mindfulness these days, but I could use a few moments of mindlessness right now. At least enough to catch an afternoon nap.
All of Me
The beauty in God, as I am coming to understand Him, is that He is all knowing. That I don’t need to conceal my sins. I don’t need to hide. His light shines on me – the best and worst of me. All of me. Without secrets, there is no need for lies. No complicated machinations to mask the truth. He offers a haven. A safe space to be me. Free to work on my truths.
My truths. Their messy. I’m messy. And tied up in lies, I’m complicated and confusing. But in His light, I’m simpler. Still messy, but more easily untangled. Easier to understand; to see my path forward; to make choices toward a better me.
I’m on a journey of faith. I’m choosing to believe. It’s daily choice; a daily prayer. And I’m bringing all of me.
It’s drizzling around me. I first noticed the patter upon the umbrella above. A little too heavy to be the mosquitos dancing. A little too random to be the ants marching.
It’s raining now. A polka-dot percussion accompanying the birdsong. Not quite in concert. A dress rehearsal.
The musical of moisture is over now. Or perhaps just on break. The sky seems undecided. The birds seem indifferent – continuing with their singsong.
Again begins the patter. Elevating into the polka-dot percussion. Easing back to a pitter-patter before rising again. Looks like we will be gifted a full concert performance.
The Day After Yesterday
The morning is cool.
The air is a fresh floral green.
The light is bright beyond the shade tree’s shadow.
My mind is knotted.
My thoughts a dark murky grey.
My outlook is cloudy despite my morning coffee’s encouragement.
I forgot to take my meds yesterday. I realized this in the middle of the night when my sleep was bombarded with strange thoughts and frequent waking. I was further reminded when I woke up to a head that felt like it was being cinched tightly by a giant’s oversized tool.
I’m slowly coming out of it. I’ve taken my meds. I’ve had a small breakfast and my first cup of coffee for the day. I’m sitting in the garden and it’s a beautiful morning.
I spent the weekend sleeping on a sofa chair at the hospital and that got me out of my normal routine. I think that is why I forgot my meds. Mrs. Monty finally had the metal brackets and screws removed from her ankle after a full year of recovery. They showed us the bag of metal fittings after they removed them and I was shocked by their size and quantity. There was enough hardware there to put together a piece of furniture from IKEA. I’m glad its out now and she has a chance to walk more comfortably again once she recovers.
As she came out of surgery and was hooked up to the monitors it brought me back to a few months ago when mama (my mother in law) was passing. At that time we were watching the vital signals slowly descend. This time I watched as the signals ascended back to normal. Another reminder to embrace the miracle of life while we are here. A blessing of awareness and appreciation.
At the hospital we had a room in the maternity ward due to lack of space in the ‘regular ward’. We were surrounded by the sounds of lives beginning — and their complaints about the state of the human condition. It’s been over twenty-one years since my last child was born. He also arrived with complaints. Somethings stay the same. But these complaints were another reminder of life’s miracle. Another blessing.
So while my mind may be “knotted” and in a bit of fog, I’m grateful for this day. I’m grateful for the miracle of life. I’m grateful for each blessing that reminds me to be so.