I have them
Lots of them
They mark my body
In woven connect the dots pattern
They tell my stories
Of a fighter
The life of a scrapper
A survivor
A dreamer
A believer
Broken pieces
Taken out
Stitched together
I step
I keep stepping
Can’t stop the wheel
Because if I stop
And deal with the scars
Will I like the woman looking
Back in the mirror?
They are my story
Of redemption?
Of peace?
Of hope?
Dark eyes stare back
I touch the scar on my cheek
Two inches
Covered in make up
Sewing scissors
Do you remember?
I don’t think she did
Broken pieces
Mending
It is coming
I hate it
This process
I think I would rather just step
But those scars… they are mine
The woven pattern of a life
Worth living
And worth telling
One day
But first I must connect
The dots
The pattern
Of this life
And stop
Stepping
For a time
To grieve each scar
And put them squarely
At your feet, not mine
I may carry the scars
You won the battle
Please stitch me together again
Only better
Author: JJ Taylor
Many have shared that I am the strongest woman they know. I would disagree... when life kicks you in the teeth there is only one place to look and that is UP!
I will be sharing my poetry, random thoughts, my hopes, my dreams, defining my strength and my faith. I'm honest, raw and real. I'm writing more for me, but perhaps someone will find my words that will help you in a profound way
Even When
I had the joy of being the guest speak on PF Women Radio today. I shared this poem at the end; enjoy the listen and below is the poem.
EVEN WHEN…
Even when you can’t take one more breath,
You doubt
You cry
You can’t imagine life alone
You feel unworthy
Unnecessary
You feel afraid and lonely
You’re hungry
You’re sad
You stand in disbelief
You think you can’t do this for one more second
Let alone one more day
The walls feel like they are crumbling in around you
You no longer have joy
Your marriage isn’t something you hoped it would be
The pain gets so great, you wonder if you will ever be the same again
Your children no longer want you in their lives… they’re grown
You picked out a name and the miscarriage took that name and dream away…Multiple times
You miss your Mom who died too soon
And you simply want to stop crying
You struggle to let go and let God
The diagnosis is death
You mourn those who have died
You think you will never be the same again
Even when one or all of these things are true
In this moment
This is NOT the end of your story
God is our life, our strength, our hope, our redeemer, our rainbow after the storm
Our everything
Our What’s Next
Our miracle
Our healer
Our joy
Our warrior
Our peace
Our everything
Even when it seems like the walls are crumbling around you
Hold on to Him
He’s got this, He’s fighting for you
He rights the wrongs
He fights for us
He holds every tear in his hands
He is for us
He loves us
Even when you think things will ALWAYS be this way
God says… Not today
God says… I am here
God says… I love you
God says… follow me
Even when…
Her Chair
A place of wisdom
Well worn, re-fabricated
And re-purposed over the years
A place where they flocked
All came for words of wisdom
Laughter
Insight
Peace
Stories
Prayer
For soft and loud wisdom of a woman who was beautiful
Inside and out
She’d work the room like a fine conductor
Everyone waited
Everyone wanted
Everyone welcomed
Everyone heard
Everyone accounted for
Everyone mattered… to her
Everyone got her insights
Sometimes if they wanted it or not
Her chair
She sat in on days she didn’t feel well
Or could not sleep
An area that was tidy
Resourceful and bright
Just like her
Whose eyes twinkled with inappropriate thoughts
She’d never dare say
And funny innuendos of those who irritated
But she always loved and cherished
Her Chair
A place of grace
Christmas packages
Unable to separate memories of Christmas and that chair
The cane that rested on its arm
For the lady who never complained
About her pain
Her life
Or others
Never ever, others
Grace. The best belief in others always offered
She embodied strength
Purpose
Zest for life
Passion for her Savior
Adoration for her husband
Love and awe for her children and grandchildren
Her chair
He sat
In her chair
A little lost
Soaking up her scent
The memories
The laughter
So much laughter
He sat in her chair
It was hers
He couldn’t NOT sit
In her chair
It was a part of her story
Their story
A beautiful love story
Of 67 years of a gorgeous love story
That is precious and inspiring. A legacy
He sat; it was touching
Wonderful and sad all rolled into one
We are the ones left missing
Missing her
Holding court
Conducting the room
In her chair
In Memory of Janet Maurine Paulson McCreary- I love you.
9/10/1931- 4/6/2016
Jeni McCreary 4/7/16
Not Unto Death
The last four months have been some of the hardest. To be faced with a diagnosis of leukemia that was ruled out by a painful bone marrow test. Then to be told that I have “Valley Fever” that I contracted in the Nevada desert when my Mom was dying two years ago. A potential diagnosis with a worse mortality rate than leukemia…it was ruled out by sinus scopes & scrapes, CT of my sinuses and lots more blood work.
I had such moments of panic. Do I have enough life insurance for my family? Will I see my little girl grow up? With my husband already out of commission and in bed 95% of his days…who would care for my daughter? My son? He has his own life to live. These panicked thoughts I let in and allowed.
It had to stop.
I called out to God. I cried to Him:
You gave me breath! You wake me up every morning. You are the rock on which I stand.
In those darkest moments with thoughts racing…I made a choice. To believe His word & that these diagnoses, these diseases were NOT unto death. God will renew my strength. I am healed. I am strong. I am a overcomer. God is good. God is for me. God loves me.
My life has purpose bigger than my now. Bigger dreams. Bigger goals that wrap around His will only. When those waters would not part in those months of unknown, I still stood in my trust in Him.
Today I stand in joy, I’m alive! Not unto death. God has plans & purpose for my life….it is good. I trust Him, period.
See You Soon
Today I was having lovely text conversations with two amazing friends. We started talking about our Mom’s and how hard it is to leave them when they live out of state. It was always hard to leave my Mom. Instead of saying “Good-bye”, we’d always say, “See you soon.” We got that saying from my Grandpa and Sister.
It’s always hard to say good-bye. When I had to leave my Mom on her deathbed, when I bent to kiss her goodbye for the last time that’s what we said to each other, “See you soon.”
Grief is different for each person. Acceptance takes time and healing is like a roller coaster. Where does my strength come from? As I grieved today one of my favorite songs came on from Dara MaClean titled, “You Are All I Need”
.
This is where my strength comes from, this is how I lift my head and keep steppin daily. Grief is a process… acceptance takes time.
The Movie: About Time
The movie about time (while some language is rough) had me crying the other night. I literally cried into my homemade tacos during the scene where the son & his family leave his father knowing that he only has weeks left to live.
I get it. I too had to leave my mother…I couldn’t stay and walking away from her knowing it would be the last time I would see her. It was the hardest moment of my life. I wanted to flee. I wanted to fight. I wanted her to live. Regret in not staying until she died still haunts me to this day. She died 8/5/2013 at the age of 69.
Two days into our visit (we drove like the wind from Florida to Nevada to get there in time), her hazy morphine eyes looked into mine and she asked, “Do you think I really have cancer and am going to die? Do you think there is a chance the doctor’s are wrong?” Her twinkle of hope floats in my ears, her voice raspy and dry. I smile at her sadly looking at her abdomen that in just these few short days has doubled in size from the cancer that is ravaging her body. I swallow hysterical tears, clear my throat…look into her eyes, “I think they might be right about this one Mom.”…. I’m dying inside when the words come out. She blinks rapidly, trying to clear her vision. “Yeah… I was just kind-of hoping…” Me too Mama, me too.
Her box of jewelry and trinkets arrived on 12/1/14 the same day my brother Scott died. I looked at the box and knew immediately what it was. Petrified I opened it and there she was…every piece of jewelry holding a memory, a moment of time within my childhood. A laugh, a giggle, a thought. And then… her perfume hit me… all the velvet boxes and cloth sacks smelling of her perfume. I inhaled and cried…quickly closing the box in effort to preserve her and contain that smell and those moments that right now… I simply can’t deal with.
I miss her. Every day is precious and fleeting. Am I living my now? These things I think about when I look at that box and of the woman who died too soon. My friends…we must continue to live.
strengthdefined 