that feeling when you get a gift and it’s awesome

hours curled on the kitchen floor, with each sigh and sniffle willing in sunshine or smiles, a new season, something.

when did life get so frowns and tears?

another tissue box shuffle–full to empty. empty and low. the sidewalks notice me. maybe. that’s how i feel.


flipping through this big, ancient, alive book I find this:

Bless the LORD, O my soul, and all that is within me, bless his holy name!

Bless the LORD, O my soul, and forget not all his benefits,

who forgives all your iniquity, who heals all your diseases,

who redeems your life from the pit, who crowns you with steadfast love and mercy,

who satisfies you with good so that your youth is renewed like the eagle’s.

psalm 103:1-5

starving girl, an outward reflection of inner rejection. shredding myself, acidic mantras beaten into brain grooves deep and foreboding… stupid, ugly, never good

enough.

muscles fizz and spasm with unending tension, unable to function. bruised, beaten, distressed.

puffed up mind, torn apart soul

curled like a hedgehog or fallen leaf,

weeping sheepishly on the linoleum tiles

drowning slowly

in shame.


psalm 103:4

:WHO REDEEMS YOUR LIFE FROM THE PIT

how to hope for a saving hand, when already eleven feet under?

this takes Spirit and love beyond the border of stars and dark.

to believe in God though

death steals hearts near yours and

sickness feeds on your very bone marrow.

starving stomach, do you hope for sustenance

deferred heart, do you thump up to beat a melody, still?

dusty drum set

book spine uncracked

how does the lioness mama crouch to pounce after missing potential dinner twenty times

already


the healing came like crocuses and acrobat chickadees after a biting arctic melts under raw sun extract.

the rays of sun, like curls of flame, crackled and licked chilly waves of air. wild and unhindered, the fire consumed old chaff of life. Jesus–my Jesus– purifies my heart, electrifying each notebeat to compose a new rhythm, new land. like a tree gracing the forest ceiling, many take solace in His roots, bark, branches.

 

the healing came slowly then suddenly, and nothing of my own doing.  two cross beams nailed across east and west, Jesus hung there for me. lived and died and lived again. gives me life, too. this i know with all the atoms I’m composed of–He loves me.

dancing with the Author, His hand ever extended, Jesus invites you and me out of the pit. redemption. 

a free gift.

mental ride, part 3

two paramedics wheeled me to the tall grey mental hospital. blurry paperwork, scribbled signature, an indefinite smile on my face. checked in, locked down.

another patient confronted me; I acted back. bubbly nurse lady escorted me to the quiet room, bolting the door shut. small chamber with padded walls and lone bed. kneeling, I cried  for love. my stomach folded and my mind raced figure eights through quick sand, oasis, ocean, and space. it travelled at record speeds, incomprehensible and lost. a realm unknown to man, I forged new frontiers—insanity disguised as genius, brain deceiving itself. my slow body slumped on the floor.

 

woe when my brain and body eventually matched up.

mashed potatoes

meatloaf

chocolate milk

hairnet lunch lady smiled

scooped carrots

man tranquilized mid-meal

again.

 I observed outside world through window dotted with tint. a foot clinic. roads. trees. birds dancing midsky. mountains crisp against dull blue backdrop. 

after each meal, we walked the unit. digging a trench in the linoleum floor, the other patients and I circled the ward. beautiful nature scenes, oversized and framed, lined the outside of the narrow hallway. the wall pattern: door door waterfall door door forest door door mossy rocks door flowers door door pond. My mind escaped the trapped place, traipsed out into the brilliant scenes. fields and flowers, passing hours upon hours in the desolate plain. waiting for it to rain. or snow, some form of precipitation. I wanted participation in the bright symphony outdoors. my soul choked in the hallway. desert spread through my throat. seven days enclosed in stained off-white hospital walls, my brain’s off switch slowly flipping to on. I missed fresh air the most.

like a cat trapped in carrier, I clawed, silently asking how do I get out of here?

I scrawled notes with the golf pencil and tiny notebook provided:

charge nurse: Charolette

Med nurse: ?

take meds

ask Tim for help

schedule on wall

follow schedule

take showers

I found my brain in the water. the scalding drops seared my shoulders crimson. I scrubbed my scalp for the second time that day. the warm sensation soothed a body disconnected from brain, brought mind down from spaceship ride, touching to earth with a soft pouft.

tales from mania, part 2

sirens raced out like morning light on fast forward, quickly waking a sleeping plain.  they interrupt air and quiet, causing dog hair to raise and people to pause and pray. I never thought I’d be be the cause of such commotion.  two men—one tall and brown haired, the other round with a big laugh—strapped me onto the raised, roller emergency bed. they wore bright, rough coats and spoke gently. they strapped me down, with my Bible on my lap. their big black boots thumped down the hospital halls as they wheeled me away.

the lanky one sat in back with me. he hooked me up to a vitals screen. question marks blinked on a couple panels.

ah yes, of course. I’m dead. that’s why the medical gadget can’t find my pulse! HaHA! inner smirk.

“thank you for carrying me,” I said.

“not a problem,” said the medic. “you’re the lightest thing we picked up all day!”

because I’m not here! I’m dead!

two paramedics picked me up and wheeled me off to the back of an ambulance en route to the mental ward. they performed their duty, with grace. my body strapped down, speeding away, meanwhile my mind went on vacation to the Milky Way where stars twirled in deep dark empty space, where lost thoughts shot like pinballs or shooting balls of bright gas, disguised as truth. my own world where I could play and not be chided for saying I died. in my mind, life left my mortal tent long ago.

emergency encounter, part 1

Another girl in the basement of the Emergency Room, broken and maimed by life—like me–sobs and quakes in the corner of her room. She steps out. Wails. I step out. Her bloodshot gaze shoots through me like a bullet.

“Hi, my name’s Annabeth,” I say.

“Charolette,” she says, extending her snotty half gloved hand. I shake it. Her body shakes too, racked with withdrawal, shocked at benevolent touch.

She tells me her story–the equivalent of cobwebs and oil spills, cosmic rush then electrocution and detonation. Hot tears drip from my eyelids, mingling our pain. My throat swallows tightly as I look at the wall.

What can I say?

I reach my arms around her crumpled shoulders, pull them near. We stay caved inward for minutes, like birds landing after working hard and long to stay in the air.

“Can I pray for you?” I say.

Her nod is barely noticeable yet monumental, like beavers high-fiving after constructing their first high rise. I offer a short, sincere petition to the Maker of stars. She leans in harder, squeezing my heart pulp. We let go, touch down in hospital world.

She turns and shuffles back into her area, but not without a smile. The gentle upward curve softening her cheeks and eyes says thank you deeper than words ever do.