Bees in My Bonnet

 Just a poetic meditation for today. And that is all. Where we hurt Can I find the place,  The hidden cavern Crested , unexplored,  The fountain-head,  That point of pain - Where it begins  Its crimson stain Which flows, reaching  Every stream of me?  Can I wonder over Every part of my being - What is seen, what is unseen,  To detect where hurt resides,  Seeking a blanket, a balm,  A cool cup of water?  I will seek I will find There I make a nest, Cradle the ache. Tread softly  Listen  It speaks, "Hear me!"  I will go Leave the place I've come to know  Let rest unbind tight-woven dread Take slowly life's breath Into every crevice yet to be seen; I entrust myself to Love.  "My burden is light," I am told,  And laughing, gasp, allowing doubt to speak, "Oh really?"  A burden - light? How can it be?  The answer came long before: "Cast your burden upon the Lord, and He will sustain you." 

I turned 48 last month. My sister turned 50 this week. I'm beginning to measure life through the lens of decades rather than years. I can frame who I was, what I was, how I lived, where I lived, who I lived with, in pockets of time, and now I near the end of the 5th pocket of time, the pocket of decades. Timo's accident last year was like being put in a washing machine - the kind with the window in front, where every few turns you see the splash of bright colour of a favourite garment, only to be whisked away and replaced by earthtones and stained dishrags. It felt like the world was spinning and I was spinning with it, and being disoriented, and confused, and drowning. Truth be told, it wasn't just last year that was like that...it's been much of my life. I can measure seasons of depression and disorientation through the lens of adolescent life, transitioning countries, relational transitions - from daughter, to friend,  to student, to teacher, to single, to married, t...