How can you try and never succeed?
How can you be nice and think you are doing things right, only to discover that you have been dancing in a facade?
How can words that should mean so much be so empty?
How can people know how they feel at a given moment, and pretend their way thru different situations, only to do a surprise reveal, that they really felt another way?
How can people not accept that somethings are much harder, and always try to out do the circumstances of other people?
How can someone say they aren't right all the time, never find anything wrong with what they do?
How is it possible to literally despise your own self for feeling a certain way about a particular subject, yet at the same time you can't even seem to lasso up your self control & discipline to actually change it?
How does it make sense to wish that things were back the same, yet at the same time you almost dread the reality of it?
How can you see things that are clearly black or white, and rather than doing anything about it, when it's your place to, you sit back with sealed lips?
How can things/or people that are truly equals be treated so unequally?
How can supposedly cleared visioned people not see the twisted maneuvers of others, and fall prey to them time and time again?
How one person be so smart that they are actually dumb a rock?
How can a person be so unteachable and equally lack the empathy to even care if they learn important things or not?
How can someone gripe about the actions that others take because they are so wrong, turn right around and joyfully participate in the same action??
How can a person be so annoying, that even the people who ought to like them......don't?!
How can even uttering your core feelings make you feel like you have been drug across pavement on your bare back....leaving you painfully open and raw?
How can big issues arise and never waver the strength of one, and then a microscopic issue strolls along, and eats away at them like a cavity in a tooth?
How can you love someone and not like them at all??
How is it that certain people can do anything they want wrong and getaway with it scott-free, while the people that actually try to be decent never get away with even a white lie and they are persecuted for it way harder than a worse offense?
How can people be so delusional that they can physically do something, know that everyone knows they did it, play the amnesia card, and anticipate that others will buy it?
How can a person have sweet words ooze from their lips towards a person when they have an audience, then immediately when the 'theater' is empty, flesh-eating-toxic-acidic words be poured on that same person, actually sleep at night, peacefully?
How can someone be an advocate for honesty, be a prisoner of their own lies, when isn't it a famous quote that states, 'the truth shall set you free??'
How can swallowing a horse pill so closely resemble the feeling of choosing to be quiet and hold your tongue even when you are right?
How can taking the glorious 'high road' leave you fighting hypothermia & frostbite, and people who take the 'low road' seem to come out better & happier than a pig in sunshine?
How can strangers & even enemies get our best attitudes & reactions, while the sweet people living within our four house walls get the sloppy leftovers or nothing at all?
How can bad news that weighs down hearts & minds soar high and fast, when the good news that lift spirits, sits stationary on the ground?
How can people never appreciate the people in their lives until after they are dead and gone, and they can't even tell them how they feel?
How can be that the very presence of one solitary person can so drive you to pulling the covers back over your head each morning just for sheer avoidance?
How can people fully realize how irritating they are to to others, willfully continue to be as abrasive as sandpaper with a smile on their face?
How can your feet keep moving forward everyday- when you have no want to and you feel as useless as a play money at the grocery store checkout?
How can people that are supposed to be so well liked and respected, be the ones that are left by their lonesome?
How do people measure others by a different measuring stick than they do themselves?
How is it that some people can be so particular that they are never pleased with anything?
How can some people look at a issue, be understanding and deliver advice, and not practice what they preach?
How can someone have such high expectations from certain people, and get upset- when the wrong-doer is in fact, oblivious to what is expected from them in the first place?
How can anyone possibly think that saying things/or good intentions gives them brownie points, when in reality actions always speak louder than words?
How is effort that everyone expects from everyone else, but no one wants to give it?
How can people that deserve to be happy with their family be stripped away, while people who don't even care about their family lives a carefree life disconnected from the 'people' they love most?
How can we constantly run around with scissors, cutting ourselves short of personal goals?
How is it that a terrible day can be wiped away by the hug and Eskimo kisses you get from your sweet girl when you tuck her into bed?
February 22, 2011
February 5, 2011
Unseen Solitude
We could never know the silent moments that one has when they are alone. Assuming that their outward strong appearances must accurately display their attitudes when in their quiet solitude. It's untrue. We must look deeper, truly put ourselves into the shoes of others and lace them up too. I think then and only then, can you get a more on-target glimpse into the lives of others and see their world more clearly.
What you don't see is that sweet gray haired man with a close cut, that wears his coveralls, fishing hat and heavy work boots day in and day out shuffling in sadness. He's warm, welcoming and funny, just as he's always been, but when everyone has gone, and its just him and his black dog, Sonny, he walks a familiar path. This path leads down the hall to his room, standing in front of their closet, opening the door, to reveal neatly hung clothes. Hat boxes stacked according to size, shoes side by side on the floor below. With an admiring look, he grins softly, and pull several of his favorite outfits out and lays them neatly on the bed. He stands back, glances at her picture on the left hand side nightstand. He looks back to the laid out attire, and his mind drifts away into one special night when he and his wife went out for dinner, she wore that beautiful dress, with the brotch he gave her on her birthday fifty years ago, she was always classy and sentimental like that. He had gotten the door for her, helped her with her chair, and even snuck a kiss on the cheek when they left. Looking at the regular old, everyday clothes that she wore day in and day out helping him tirelessly on their peaceful farm. She sure looked as pretty as the day they met. How he longs to just hear her sweet voice, and to see her in those old blue jeans and striped shirt that had a stain on the right side. She was his very best friend. He scoops up all of the clothes in urgency, hugs them, and inhales the scent, hoping to get the smallest hint of her. It's getting harder and harder to do, it's been so long. Standing alone in the room they once shared, he cries as hard as the he did they day he lost her.
What you don't see is the mother standing with a phone in her hand, trying so hard to connect with the child on the other end of the line. So much love for that child, she has tried so hard to prove, and has been unsuccessful. The closed heart of her precious child won't allow reason to soften them at all. Wide-eyed, mouth frozen, heart hurting, she asks herself, "What have I done? What can I do?" She quickly flips thru the past, trying to connect any links whatsoever. Nothing. She has nothing. How could the sweet baby I swaddled and sang to be this way? How can the very child that made the sweetest sounds and had the most gentle tiny voice that would say, "Mommy I love you berry much" utter such hate towards me? I have been there for everything, wanting to be that constant in their life, and without a warning, suddenly I'm the enemy. Harsh words and bitterness is all that rests in the ears of the mother. Once her child finishes with the cruel speech, the line goes dead, leaving her slowing sitting down in the chair, pulling the phone from her tear stained cheek, looking at the phone once again. She clicks the phone off, runs her fingers thru her hair, her chest is tightening, the lump rises in her throat. She can't understand why her own child would be so hateful, why do they feel that they could say such things to her? She is their mother. After minutes of sorting, coming up again, empty handed, she slides into the floor, turning around, burying her face in her hands sobbing. Once she has enough breath, she begins, "Dear Lord, I come to you again, I love my child. My heart is breaking and I need your help...." she lifts this beloved child up to the Lord, she already had forgiven them before she ever uttered the first word, but begged God to help them in a way only he could. A prayer for a child by their mother is the sweetest of prayers, they are selfless and never ceasing. So while a wayward hearted child may kill the heart of their mother, her spirit and her love never dies, and when they thoughtlessly move on in their day, they don't do it without their mother praying to her God for them.
What you don't see is that young lady slowly dying on the inside. She gave away the one and only part of her that can never be recovered again. Suddenly upon leaving, she feels as though her eyes have been truly opened, and the lack of love from his eyes and cold embrace tells her she needed to know. Getting in her car to drive away, she knows that this will be the last time she will ever see him. She can't retract what has been done, but she wants to so badly. The realization that she is forever different, sets in. He moves on, she is frozen.Slowly driving down the gravel driveway, rocks clinking under her car, soft music streams into the air, her lip quivers. Eyes welling up with tears, "How could I have just done this? Why would I fall for what I see now is insincerity? How could I not mean anything to him?" Months later, she has still not shared this anyone. In the dark, face buried in her pillow, staining it with sorrowful, scared tears, a lengthy relationship, abruptly cut off, because the goal had been obtained. She should have been smarter, not let her guard down and been so naive. All she wants to do is wake up, to discover she is still that tiny girl with long brown hair, and the only worry she had enough room to set up her Barbie stuff for when her friends came over. Now her worry is if she will have enough room for a real baby crib. Time is drawing near, she must tell her Mom, but it hurts so much on so many levels. She's a teenager, but she, in these moments, is a terrified little girl, alone. Wondering what the future will hold for her and her new baby.
What you don't see is that man that always felt it a struggle to fit in. Insecure in almost every way, it wasn't hard to feel this way when even your parents zeroed in on you and your flaws. The walls in the family dining room each night felt as if they were closing in. "you'll never amount to anything. Why don't you follow in your brothers' or sisters' footsteps? They are so smart, and will go far....." Any achievement made is overlooked and dismissed as mediocre. There is no pleasing them. Why try? They say they love me, but they don't show it. They couldn't just be happy that I was happy. I got the education I wanted, work the job I love, yet, because it's outside the standards of my parents, it doesn't even register. Years I try to hold my head up high, be strong, but my life has slid downward, and without my noticing. My wife and I don't even live together anymore, I was and am so angry with my life, I took it out on her. Withholding my love for her, I chose anger. Never connected with my children. So I sit here playing back the last few years. What kind of life do I lead now? Not one that my family would approve of I'm sure. A ratty three room apartment, no furniture but a couch and a coffee table, with the picture of my kids, wife and myself just a couple years ago. Feels like forever ago, so much has changed. Everyone thinks I'm a waste of space, they tell me as much these days. I know I'm on the verge of loosing my job, and I don't know that I care. No one liked me there anymore, my frustrations were beginning to seep out. So why not just be done with it already? This question feels oddly logical at this point. Looking at a glass nearly full of my comforting, after hours beverage, a pill bottle full enough to send me into oblivion, this might be the answer. I would never see the look of disappointment in the faces of my wife or children again.I would never burden them again, and my family, well how I wouldn't miss the opinionated views they openly share with me. I am not scared of dying, I'm scared of it not working....I don't want to feel so empty anymore.
Maybe, just maybe if we don't just take the face value of things and look a little deeper, we could see much more. Scratch beneath the surface, and find a way to be a friend or a better friend or better family member. We advocate the Golden Rule, and yet we don't apply it. People are suffering in silence we don't even see, or bother to take up all the context clues of their lives and try to fit the puzzle together. So we must pray for those in our lives that we see openly suffering and those that are hidden.......and pray that we can be a beacon of hope and encouragement so that God's amazing blanketing love can shine in their lives so much brighter!
What you don't see is that sweet gray haired man with a close cut, that wears his coveralls, fishing hat and heavy work boots day in and day out shuffling in sadness. He's warm, welcoming and funny, just as he's always been, but when everyone has gone, and its just him and his black dog, Sonny, he walks a familiar path. This path leads down the hall to his room, standing in front of their closet, opening the door, to reveal neatly hung clothes. Hat boxes stacked according to size, shoes side by side on the floor below. With an admiring look, he grins softly, and pull several of his favorite outfits out and lays them neatly on the bed. He stands back, glances at her picture on the left hand side nightstand. He looks back to the laid out attire, and his mind drifts away into one special night when he and his wife went out for dinner, she wore that beautiful dress, with the brotch he gave her on her birthday fifty years ago, she was always classy and sentimental like that. He had gotten the door for her, helped her with her chair, and even snuck a kiss on the cheek when they left. Looking at the regular old, everyday clothes that she wore day in and day out helping him tirelessly on their peaceful farm. She sure looked as pretty as the day they met. How he longs to just hear her sweet voice, and to see her in those old blue jeans and striped shirt that had a stain on the right side. She was his very best friend. He scoops up all of the clothes in urgency, hugs them, and inhales the scent, hoping to get the smallest hint of her. It's getting harder and harder to do, it's been so long. Standing alone in the room they once shared, he cries as hard as the he did they day he lost her.
What you don't see is the mother standing with a phone in her hand, trying so hard to connect with the child on the other end of the line. So much love for that child, she has tried so hard to prove, and has been unsuccessful. The closed heart of her precious child won't allow reason to soften them at all. Wide-eyed, mouth frozen, heart hurting, she asks herself, "What have I done? What can I do?" She quickly flips thru the past, trying to connect any links whatsoever. Nothing. She has nothing. How could the sweet baby I swaddled and sang to be this way? How can the very child that made the sweetest sounds and had the most gentle tiny voice that would say, "Mommy I love you berry much" utter such hate towards me? I have been there for everything, wanting to be that constant in their life, and without a warning, suddenly I'm the enemy. Harsh words and bitterness is all that rests in the ears of the mother. Once her child finishes with the cruel speech, the line goes dead, leaving her slowing sitting down in the chair, pulling the phone from her tear stained cheek, looking at the phone once again. She clicks the phone off, runs her fingers thru her hair, her chest is tightening, the lump rises in her throat. She can't understand why her own child would be so hateful, why do they feel that they could say such things to her? She is their mother. After minutes of sorting, coming up again, empty handed, she slides into the floor, turning around, burying her face in her hands sobbing. Once she has enough breath, she begins, "Dear Lord, I come to you again, I love my child. My heart is breaking and I need your help...." she lifts this beloved child up to the Lord, she already had forgiven them before she ever uttered the first word, but begged God to help them in a way only he could. A prayer for a child by their mother is the sweetest of prayers, they are selfless and never ceasing. So while a wayward hearted child may kill the heart of their mother, her spirit and her love never dies, and when they thoughtlessly move on in their day, they don't do it without their mother praying to her God for them.
What you don't see is that young lady slowly dying on the inside. She gave away the one and only part of her that can never be recovered again. Suddenly upon leaving, she feels as though her eyes have been truly opened, and the lack of love from his eyes and cold embrace tells her she needed to know. Getting in her car to drive away, she knows that this will be the last time she will ever see him. She can't retract what has been done, but she wants to so badly. The realization that she is forever different, sets in. He moves on, she is frozen.Slowly driving down the gravel driveway, rocks clinking under her car, soft music streams into the air, her lip quivers. Eyes welling up with tears, "How could I have just done this? Why would I fall for what I see now is insincerity? How could I not mean anything to him?" Months later, she has still not shared this anyone. In the dark, face buried in her pillow, staining it with sorrowful, scared tears, a lengthy relationship, abruptly cut off, because the goal had been obtained. She should have been smarter, not let her guard down and been so naive. All she wants to do is wake up, to discover she is still that tiny girl with long brown hair, and the only worry she had enough room to set up her Barbie stuff for when her friends came over. Now her worry is if she will have enough room for a real baby crib. Time is drawing near, she must tell her Mom, but it hurts so much on so many levels. She's a teenager, but she, in these moments, is a terrified little girl, alone. Wondering what the future will hold for her and her new baby.
What you don't see is that man that always felt it a struggle to fit in. Insecure in almost every way, it wasn't hard to feel this way when even your parents zeroed in on you and your flaws. The walls in the family dining room each night felt as if they were closing in. "you'll never amount to anything. Why don't you follow in your brothers' or sisters' footsteps? They are so smart, and will go far....." Any achievement made is overlooked and dismissed as mediocre. There is no pleasing them. Why try? They say they love me, but they don't show it. They couldn't just be happy that I was happy. I got the education I wanted, work the job I love, yet, because it's outside the standards of my parents, it doesn't even register. Years I try to hold my head up high, be strong, but my life has slid downward, and without my noticing. My wife and I don't even live together anymore, I was and am so angry with my life, I took it out on her. Withholding my love for her, I chose anger. Never connected with my children. So I sit here playing back the last few years. What kind of life do I lead now? Not one that my family would approve of I'm sure. A ratty three room apartment, no furniture but a couch and a coffee table, with the picture of my kids, wife and myself just a couple years ago. Feels like forever ago, so much has changed. Everyone thinks I'm a waste of space, they tell me as much these days. I know I'm on the verge of loosing my job, and I don't know that I care. No one liked me there anymore, my frustrations were beginning to seep out. So why not just be done with it already? This question feels oddly logical at this point. Looking at a glass nearly full of my comforting, after hours beverage, a pill bottle full enough to send me into oblivion, this might be the answer. I would never see the look of disappointment in the faces of my wife or children again.I would never burden them again, and my family, well how I wouldn't miss the opinionated views they openly share with me. I am not scared of dying, I'm scared of it not working....I don't want to feel so empty anymore.
Maybe, just maybe if we don't just take the face value of things and look a little deeper, we could see much more. Scratch beneath the surface, and find a way to be a friend or a better friend or better family member. We advocate the Golden Rule, and yet we don't apply it. People are suffering in silence we don't even see, or bother to take up all the context clues of their lives and try to fit the puzzle together. So we must pray for those in our lives that we see openly suffering and those that are hidden.......and pray that we can be a beacon of hope and encouragement so that God's amazing blanketing love can shine in their lives so much brighter!
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