certainly uncertain

Hello, hello. It's one of those days... one of those that marks the end/beginning of a day's worth of thoughts and thinks and thuds.


Sometimes I really start to question any and everything I've ever known. Most of the time this means God. Or religion. Or people. Or the color of puke. Or why top shelves exist. Or why anyone would wear white when dirt is brown. 


But today it was about death, as it often seems to be when I work in a place where our day's summary usually includes something horrifically normal. 


Have you ever heard of the fast robot? My friend Amy taught it to me. It's basically the robot, but super fast so you look even cooler than you did before you knew of it. Anyway, I taught it to this old man at work, and EVERY TIME he saw me, he'd do an awkward variation of said fast robot.


Well, he died today. And with him, so did our fast robot interpretations. Life goes on. But for a while, it feels like everything stops. Why do we live just to die? Was God so narcissistic that he had to create a world that would die? Insert all of that stuff about choice/free will and whatnot. I get that. But days like today, I really get sort of cynical and bitter about spiritual things, because sure it's cool that I'm alive and everything, but what was the point in creating a world that he knew was going to be so flawed and end in suffering? I mean, other than to choose to love and follow him. 


I don't get it today. Some days I do, but if I'm being honest... today I don't. 



Oh, and I know this of myself
I assume as much for other people
Oh, and I know this of myself
We've listened more to life's end gong
Than the sound of life's sweet bliss

Was it ever worth it?
Was there all that much to gain?
Well we knew we missed the boat
And we'd already missed the plane
We didn't read the invite
We just dance at our wake
All our favorites were playing
So we could shake, shake, shake, shake, shake

point A and point B

My brain is full of thinks. One think is trying to define life, while the other is learning to define death.

In the midst of life and death, many thinks are connecting the dots... others are erasing the lines between.

Things, thinks, and other. That's what my brain is doing right now.

He's doing this, he's doing that... I'm doing this right now, but later I'll be doing that.

And for a while these published words may mean this, but over time it will mean probably nothing.

Tick tock; here we go.

It Is Well With My Soul

"When peace, like a river, attendeth my way,
When sorrows like sea-billows roll;
Whatever my lot, Thou hast taught me to say,
'It is well, it is well with my soul.'"

If you have never heard this song, or if you have never looked up the history behind it, do. It's an amazing story.

Today is my friend's funeral. If you don't know what I'm talking about, read my post here.

I was leaving work this morning when I found out that my friend's granddaughters had left me their grandmother's binder of sheet music from when she played for her church. I held it together (decently) while leaving work, but as soon as I got to my car, I started bawling. Sometimes, I feel like my body won't be able to contain anymore love for people. When I love people, I truly love them. Do you know what I'm saying? Think of somebody that you love. I mean, really think of them. Do you feel like you're going to explode? Maybe that's just me. But I'm super emotional.



I don't post this to brag about how awesome I am or how much people love me. On the contrary, I am humbled to have received this music book, of sorts. Like I said in my earlier post, I wish I could use her name here, but since I can't, I'll just keep referring to her as "my friend." My friend was amazing. I will treasure this gift from her family, always.



You all, bloggers and readers, share my life with me, oddly enough. This is a big piece of who I am. I may filter some things, but overall, this is me. I screw up; I am not perfect. I get angry and petty. But for today, I am humbled. I am sad. I am blessed. I am honored to have known such an incredible woman.

Every elderly person I encounter reminds me of the love I had for my grandma. I can't express in any number of words how lucky I am to be surrounded by wisdom and laughs in the form of aging bodies.

It's not for everyone. I know that. But it's for me... at least for now.

Anyway, The funeral is in a little more than an hour. This will be the first funeral I attend other than family. It's going to be really hard. Fortunately, I think tears are acceptable in that type of an environment.

I know that these last several posts have been pretty melancholy, but sometimes life is somber. That's okay. I talked to my dad on the phone today, and I told him that situations like this make me want to quit my job, because I don't know how I will be able to keep watching people that I love die; simultaneously, I feel like my affections for the elderly should be used. Anyway, he said, "In a strange way, enjoy these moments." (I'm not sure I quoted him, exactly...) But basically, dad said to allow these feelings/emotions at their deepest to be a confirmation of being where I need to be. I can agree with that.
 

So, I have an overwhelming desire to play my violin again.

Cheers.

The Pianist

I'm having trouble with words. That's just a warning.

I am emotional. I cry when I feel something. I love people. I especially love older people. These factors make me an emotional wreck when an older person that I love dies.

This particular lady was a wonderful person. She always called me "Lisa," since it seems that "Liz" never stuck with her. I was proud to be Lisa; I was consistently Lisa. This little lady would always wink and point her finger at me when she'd see me walking down the hall. She did this to everyone, but I like to think that I was special to her. At the very least, she was special to me. 

And oh, did she play the piano! She was wonderful! I can honestly say that she is the sole reason that I played my violin this last year. Occasionally, I'd play for a little bit with other musicians (friends), but she is the reason that I have played publicly since leaving the orchestra. We mostly played hymns, but I can tell you that I always felt God when she'd play. I sensed her passion; she inspired my own. 

She was very forgetful, given her age, but she never forgot who she was. Her Bible was worn and usually opened to one passage or another. She was constantly looking for the piano, and she reminded me all of the time of how we needed to play another duet together. This woman gave me purpose! She loved me-- I know that. What an honor it is to be loved by a person, eh?

I wish that I could write her name here. A beautiful lady needs a name. I'll never forget it.

This will be the first funeral that I attend, aside from family. I have experienced death at the nursing home before, but never like this. She was a friend; she was a person I pictured when I questioned the work I do.

This isn't a pity party. I am so blessed to have known such a wonderful woman, and I am glad that she is no longer suffering. It was painful to watch her decline. I feel like I need to "publish" my own tribute to her... I can't keep how much she meant to me to myself. It wouldn't feel right. 

Lucky for you, readers, right? I hope that you all love your grandparents. What wise people we have in our midst. Please don't overlook them.

This is a poem I wrote about my friend last semester. I dug it out tonight. I know that sometimes my writing can appear to be rather crass, to some people, but maybe with knowing how I feel about this woman, the words will appear more sensitive than perhaps some may read them.

The Pianist

She, a pianist, sits down at the bench

by the piano, when she remembers it’s there.

Her back is hunched crookedly over the keys,

and her feet barely reach three brass pedals,

the padded shoes and Velcro hindering

her already slowed movements.

Her shiny, metal wheelchair sits next

to the wooden piano in stark contrast.

In her trembling manner, uncontrolled,

it is surprising how she tames

her knobby fingers and brittle bones

to follow specific patterns. I think she is forgetful;

after all, from what I know of music, the notes

on the dog-eared pages should match the sounds

I’m hearing. She turns the pages during a pause

in the music and her eyes follow the bars,

but I can tell that she’s not actually reading along.

I suppose her muscles remember what her mind

cannot. Truly she is an accomplished musician.

Thanks for reading along. This was part of my bad couple of days; I've had a lot weighing on me. Waiting for someone's passing is a difficult place to be. I am sad and relieved. 

This is for you, dear. Thank you for your many wise words and brilliant music. 

Cheers.

When all you can do is pray.

A friend from high school passed away this morning. I don't know all of the details, but a kid from the youth group called to tell me while I was at the gym after work tonight.

This was a healthy kid, barely out of high school, who played football for several years. And just like that he's gone. He has a younger sister that thinks the world of him.

Nobody expects this! Parents don't prepare for the death of a child.

Why does this happen? Yesterday I was worried about my weight and about my future. Talk about a perspective change-- this could have been me. His birthday is in three days; as if this isn't going to be hard enough on his family.

I wish I were home to attend his funeral, but I will be in Missouri, unfortunately. If you are the praying type, I'd appreciate some prayers directed at his family. He was a Christian, and I am forever grateful for the people in his life that directed him to a decision that has made this news slightly easier to bear. He is in heaven; I have no doubt of that.

Nevertheless, this is going to be a rough time for my home church and the youth group that we "grew up" in.

So, with that in mind, cliche or not, I'm going to live. Life is fleeting. We know this. We hear this. But it's nights like tonight that it becomes painfully real.

2 Corinthians 4:16-15:8

¹⁶ That is why we never give up. Though our bodies are dying, our spirits are being renewed every day. ¹⁷ For our present troubles are small and won’t last very long. Yet they produce for us a glory that vastly outweighs them and will last forever! ¹⁸ So we don’t look at the troubles we can see now; rather, we fix our gaze on things that cannot be seen. For the things we see now will soon be gone, but the things we cannot see will last forever.

Funeral Arrangements

Thanks for the flowers, dear,

but tulips are my favorite.

I like the orange ones, and I’ll

take them on the dinner table.

I can’t smell them, but that’s

the best part. Please don’t take

offense if I don’t bury my face

in these that you’ve carefully

selected. Daffodils and daisies

curl up and die, their scents

dissolving into wheelchairs and

bandages. So if it’s okay with you,

my dear, I’m going to throw

these ones away. My home is not

a graveyard; my table will not

be a symbol of the dead.

But should you want to flatter me

again, I’d love some tulips, please.