My Story Continues: The Nursing Home

Pss. 136:1 "O give thanks unto the Lord; for he is good: for his mercy endureth for ever."

The day came where it was time for me to be transported to the Nursing Home/Rehab center, I cried for more than one reason, I was losing all the familiarity I had for ten days, the closeness of the nurses and physical therapists was something I hadn’t expected. I think that was the reason they changed nurses every single day. The rotation of nurses didn’t allow for intimacy to grow between patient and nurses/physical therapist etcetera.

The Tuesday morning came when I’d await the arrival of my ride to the nursing home. No gurney was necessary because I was now semi-mobile in a wheelchair and I was commode mode so setting me loose was what my insurance called for. My husband and son were not allotted the time to look around at rehab places because conveniently a room had opened up for one woman, at St. John’s, I would be the one woman that the insurance insisted I take. 

Sadness, anxiety, and fear had all crept into my being as I was loaded on the van lift and taken to the nursing home/rehab across from the hospital I had called home for ten days. Gone were the days of very regular delicious meals that arrived between six and seven a.m., twelve and one p.m., and the dinner at five to six. Water refreshed and medication, always on time. The hospital was now a thing of yesterday.

My husband and I were escorted to the entry hall of the Home. A nice carpeted room with overstuffed chairs lining the walls, a fake fireplace was the central focal point and it looked cozy enough at a glance. We were met by a small older-than-me woman with tight curly blonde hair and a nurses uniform hugging her petite body.

“Welcome, Joni, let me get your vitals and we’ll wheel you down to your room.” 

I sat silently gazing off into space wondering just where it was I was being left. The vitals were fine and off we went, down a crowded hallway with patients lined up against one wall and equipment lined on the other wall. The patients looked helpless, hopeless and immobile, looking at me as if I was an alien that landed smack dab in their territory. 

I’ve been in nursing homes before so I knew kind of what to expect, but I honestly thought that there was a rehab wing that separates the long-term patients from us short-term patients that were just here for rehab. This was not the case. You’re not in Baltimore anymore, Joni. Back home my grandmother was placed in a similar facility but the long term/ short term patients were not together. The nurse I’ll call Bird because to me she resembled Big Bird but much smaller, she was the one who was in charge of the nurses on staff, her office was where we came in the door at and she met us there. 

I was wheeled down the hall as Bird explained that they were building a new wing to the home and for now the patients were being doubled up in rooms until construction is completed. Lucky me. Room number twelve is where we paused and she announced it as my room. Outside the door had a name and the picture of the tenant and below her was my name with no picture, just the note on the wall CHEMO PATIENT! Chemo protocols necessary. Gait belt needed.

I was wheeled into a tightly packed room of the current tenant. The room was about twelve by twenty-four, and I was wheeled back to the window where my bed was set and a side table all in about six feet of space. A commode was sitting against the wall where there was a bureau with a television on it. The home did not reek of the normal nursing home odors, for now anyway, so that was a plus.

My husband looked at me with pain in his eyes. He was horrified of the place where he had to leave me, where we had no options. This is the place where Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome, also known as PTSD would set in. There were two metal chairs in the corner and I thought, at least I can have two visitors. I was already traumatized by the whole broken femur and surgery, now this. The story continues.

My husband went to work in getting my flowers from his truck to place in the window for me and to bring me my blanket that the church ladies made for me, he wanted it to feel as nice as the hospital environment but knew full well, this was not the environment neither of us envisioned. The comforter that currently covered the bed looked old and wrinkled and the sheets had a clean but well-worn look also, but I wasn’t here for sheets and blankets, let’s move on. 

“Will you be dining in the cafeteria this evening with the others?” Bird lady asked.

“No, not tonight, thank you.”

She went on, “Dinner is served at six in the cafeteria, and if you eat ‘in-room’, you have to wait until the others are back in their rooms. About seven your meal should arrive.” She was looking at her clipboard, “I’ll let you get acquainted and come back.”

Eyes filled with brimming tears I whispered, “Thank you.” My date with hell was beginning.

My son entered the room. He was finagling his time between work, moving into his new place, and visiting me often at the hospital. Husband and son were both trying to get back to a routine of working and visiting me after work. My husbands only problem was that he needed to be home before dark since he cannot see at night to drive. My son would stay until seven maybe, if he could, then it was me, all alone in what felt like an asylum. 

My husband ran off to the store and came back with a new quilt for the bed. He was not leaving me in that mess. Both husband and son went to work to make the place comfortable for me as evening was drawing near. My commode was set next to my bed on the left in a tight space with the curtain of the other tenant pressed against it. On the right of my bed sat a nightstand and the wheeled tray? That barely fit in front of the nightstand. 

I was still basically immobile, I could not bend my leg and the pain was still evident with each move. I did wonder how well I would be taken care of here. The tears...puddled the floor only to be dried by the sheet hanging down off of my bed. 

The night was closing in and the goodbyes were the hardest thing any of us have ever been through in our lives together. I would be alone. Alone in the dark, only sounds of the echoing hallways would be heard and all that the hallways held in them. I would be strong for my two guys. I would be out of here in no time. Right? I have to be.

the story continues...

"My heart is steadfast, O God, my heart is steadfast! I will sing and make melody!” Psalm 57:7 (ESV)

The Outbreak of Insanity

Isa. 65:17 "For, behold, I create new heavens and a new earth: and the former shall not be remembered, nor come into mind."

The Outbreak of Insanity

As I sit in the quiet of the morning reading, writing, pondering I look out the window at darkness. Soon light starts giving shape and form to objects, then the sun ascends lending warmth to all of the earth. That’s a cosmic take on how my morning begins.

On a spiritual level, I look out at the darkness and wonder who or what the depths of the night has smothered the previous day, darkened by insanity. It only takes one quick click to realize that the insanity has flooded the shores and the humans respond in anger and with that outburst of anger people die. 

It is well known that I’m weird, that I seek light before darkness and that I stay in the catacombs of my mind away from the outside forces that try to break me down. This past year has been no different where I kept all of the negativity at bay, choosing to hold onto a lightsaber in a world obsessed with a dark invader. I try to tell people about the effects of negativity on every single thing on this earth and out in the cosmic realm too, but I’m laughed at because, in reality, people don’t see light and dark, they don’t see energy as positive and negative, they see here and now and nothing more.

Here’s a science lesson for you today. Toxins are a form of negative energy. The releasing of toxins in your system all has a negative effect on every aspect of your health on a cellular level that makes up this body. This is why disease strikes. In some way, you understand this but are resistant because you believe you fill yourself with enough positive to keep any illness away from you. 

When tragedy strikes, you are saddened, you hurt, you’re angry, and you’re filled with disgust. You try to throw a speck of positivity into the mixture like adding water to oil. The oil is a tiny particle of negative energy trying to penetrate the overflowing positive soul. Your positive crumbs add very little to the realm of negative energy. 

We live in a world where insanity is overflowing. Like mold clinging to the dampened walls, a good scrub will not eradicate the fungus. Cancer is very much like a dirty fungus invading a body, a powerful scrubbing will appear to be cleaning you up but if you don’t change the toxins that created the mold; the fungus is going to continue to fester in a weakened body that no longer has the ability to fight off the growth.

My cells are damaged. I know because I have an internal system overrun with a fungus that a good radioactive cleaning doesn’t hold the power to cleanse. I remember being told by an oncologist that radiation would ‘take care’ of my psoriasis too as well as the dark invader of my cells. What he didn’t want to say was how the radiation would also kill the only good, living, combating cells that were left in my molecular structure. In other words, he wanted to add oil (radiate) to water (my spirit-filled soul). 

Your body is over 50% water, depending on the toxins or non-toxic level of input to your system. Fatty tissue contains less water than the lean meat of your body. If you’re overweight, that means you have an intense toxic system and more likely to get sick often and are basically a highway for virus’ and infections to invade. Eating the occasional salad is not going to help clean up the cells of your compromised system.

Sure you can get a quick fix, doctor’s offices hand out prescription candy like it was a trick-or-treat festival, come one come all, have some candy to poison your system. You can take the positive route or take the highway to hell, just don’t assume a salad is going to save you in a toxic world.

I woke this morning with the Son in my soul. Even though the clouds hide the sun, He is still there., every minute of every day. I could’ve gone to the negative news stream, allowed the insanity to penetrate my day and try and drown out the garden I have planted in my soul blooming for all of the world to see or for none to see.

While dark matter is its own force to reckon with the penetrating culprit of negativity cannot lead us. We must rise above the realms of darkness and allow the Light to filter out our toxic garbage.

Philip. 4:8 “Finally, brethren, whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report; if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these things.”

When we take a stand and actually work for change, change will happen. If you don’t change your entire being (the toxins you put in your system, the hate you spew, the negative thoughts you allow to seep in) nothing is going to change. Here is an excellent link to guide you to change. It is well worth the read.

As I go on my weird merry way I am continually working toward change. I am only one person setting out to change the view of the world. We cannot allow insanity to leak in and damage our hard work to change. Change your mind, body, and soul and you change the outbreak of insanity across the world!

Pss. 111:5 "He hath given meat unto them that fear him: he will ever be mindful of his covenant."

Jar of Clay

2 Cor. 4:7-9 KJV “But we have this treasure in earthen vessels, that the excellency of the power may be of God, and not of us. We are troubled on every side, yet not distressed; we are perplexed, but not in despair: Persecuted, but not forsaken; cast down, but not destroyed;

ESV 7 “But we have this treasure in jars of clay, to show that the surpassing power belongs to God and not to us. 8 We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair; 9 persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed;”

While I prefer the KJVersion many find the ESV an easier read. That’s okay with me because I’m a fragile jar of clay spilling out the word. It is not mine to shape and twist for easier reading it is mine to pour out of my earthly vessel.

Many people fear the Word, the Light, the Love that God showers on the world. I find in this physical world that people embrace hate easier than they do love. Love makes people vulnerable. Love is an open wound and touching love brings forth pain. Like salt on a wound, your pain becomes visible to the world. Hiding behind hate and anger is so much easier.

So here I am, an open wound. I have a disease that has people curling up in fear, writhing in pain, losing all sense of self. This illness leaves many alone in a struggle with the only thing in their faces is fear.

Fear tried to afflict me in the earliest of days. I quickly turned to Light and Love and the entire perspective changed for me; I may have been struck down but I was not destroyed! I know quite a few friends asked where my strength comes from and I have to be honest, from the Holy Spirit residing in me, there can be no other place in me to hold such a magnitude of passion except this jar of clay.

Fear was strewn outside the vessel trying to shatter the fragility of the jar but I could not, I would not allow the hardened clay to be tapped by fear. I will not break because someone thinks they know what is better for me. I will defend my honor and hold fast the truth that is a vine climbing inside of me.

A Puritan they say, well praise be, if you think of that as an insult you’d be wrong, if you see the purity in me, you’d be right. A puritan, I’m honored. 
Puritan defined - a person who is strict in moral or religious matters, often excessively so.

I may be an excessive moral person, a strict spiritual person but I am not a religious person, but I like that about me. It surely doesn’t make me any better than you. I am not above anyone. I am a sinner who, if God doesn’t chastise me, I will correct myself. I’ve walked the rigid path, my bare feet scarred by the stones, glass penetrated me and I bled, but I am now healed and I want the world to know of this healing. Is that wrong in wanting to share the Light of the road less taken?

While a doctor tries to use fear, a browser tries to use dominance, people try to use doubt, God uses me to pour out all that’s in this vessel. I’m okay with that, I feel I have a purpose and it isn’t in the materialistic society. I have a Spirit filled with love and everything that entails. I share the love. Judge if you want, I’m okay with that too, if you have a problem with love then you need some deep thinking sessions to see what is missing in you.

I could say the weight of an illness is on my shoulders but no instead I feel the weight of the Lord pressing in on me to spill out all He has shown me. I’m a basin full of living water just waiting for someone to dip their fingers into, to wash their face. I want to share all that the Lord has shared with me. Is that wrong? Is that moral high ground?  

Though some look down on me trying hard to ignore the Light I bring to the table, I see you and it makes me love you all the more. I will not break, I will not shatter, I will not be swayed or inhibited by persecution. I will rise above this disease and look at it from afar, it will be buried in the chasm of my healing cells never to be seen of again.

My hope for the world is that more and more people will be brazen enough to step up to the plate and not be shamed for spreading the Word. But can I give you some advice? Don’t share the Word then turn around and shew forth hate, it kind of gives off a mixed message. There is no confusion where God is concerned. 

Onward Christian 

Rom. 10:17 “So then faith cometh by hearing, and hearing by the word of God.”

Living Water

John 7:38 “He that believeth on me, as the scripture hath said, out of his belly shall flow rivers of living water.”

The Living Water

A few weeks have passed since the butterfly event when we changed the mower blade. As I stood there firming up the mower for Hubby who was doing the hard part, changing the blade, I was leaning the mower back so it made for an easy blade change. As I stood there my shadow was cast, and as I looked I saw the shadow of a fluttering butterfly landing on what looked to be my shoulder. I slowly turned my head to the left and to my amazement a butterfly was sitting on my shoulder.

I don’t know how many times you’ve had a butterfly land on your shoulder but to me, it sure was a spiritual experience. As my head turned and he was in my field of vision he realized where he was and took flight. After little squeals of joy, I went about my day thinking of the experience. I love butterflies and with the changing of the season, there are many fighting for their last days collecting pollen from the flowers. But for the fragile beauty to land on my shoulder? I still get goosebumps thinking about it.

I’m always driving my family crazy with my interpretations of events. I’m always saying that was a God moment or something like, that’s Jesus doing His work, more creatively mind you. It happens daily, almost hourly that I’m seeing God in everything so much so that when talking to my son I pointed out that I didn’t even bring Jesus into the equation that time. His response was something like, “You always brings Jesus into the equation.” I smiled ear to ear and said thank you! That is the best compliment someone has ever given me.

If my son and husband see me as always bringing Jesus into the life equation then everyone else must see it too like a crocheted blanket, I weave the warmth and love of living water to everyone who comes in contact with me. Some are open to the interpretation; some roll their eyes, while some must sit in wonder. They wonder just what is this living water I speak of.

From the moment we’re pushed out of the womb to join in this world we thirst, which is just the way God intended. From the moment the nurturing umbilical cord is snipped we long to find the living water that sustained us for nine months. We don’t quite know at the beginning but we begin searching for God from that very moment we breathe life and we seek out the peace and serenity that carried us into this world. 

Jesus explained, “Everyone who drinks this water will be thirsty again, but whoever drinks the water I give them will never thirst. Indeed, the water I give them will become in them a spring of water welling up to eternal life” (John 4:13b-14).

Eternal life. We don’t know it yet, but that is what we all pursue from the minute we take our first breath. It’s not about living and obtaining materials. It’s not about being rich and successful. Life is not about you, you, you, or me, me, me, it has and always will be about Him.

When you’re walking along a stream crunching leaves and watching as the river flows, you thirst, you want to bend over, cup your hand and drink from the flowing water. It’s only when we bring Jesus into the equation do we really comprehend what it is we’re thirsting for in this life. 

You can look at a river, swim in the stream, but you can never really drink in the eternal life that God has offered you unless you make your life about Him. The living water taps you on the shoulder, lands on your shoulder, presents truth and you either see it for what it is, or you continue swimming in life blind, consumed with selfishness and greed, not even close to being awakened by drinking in the Spirit.

I’ve thought a lot about life and death over these past eight months, more so than usual and I’ve come to the conclusion, it isn’t about my illness or how or what I do to heal, it has and always will be about Him. When I pass on, it won’t be about me, again, it will be about Him. You’ll weep for yourself, for all you did or didn’t do, you’ll weep not for me because deep down you’ll know I have eternal life, not because of what I did in this life physically but what I drank in spiritually and that is and will continue to be, all about Him! No longer thirsty, my life is about drinking the Living Water into my body, reconnecting the umbilical cord that grants me eternal life.

Poetry Sunday ~ Seasons in the Sand

Matt. 19: 24 "And again I say unto you, It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle, than for a rich man to enter into the kingdom of God."

Seasons in the Sand

On wayward sand, I stretch my hand

as frothy water flows

on the solid Rock, I stand

relieved of passing woes.

The seasons of my mind are lit

with every wistful shower.

The Spirit’s here where I sit

to fill my every hour.

 Morning comes He breathes in me

the dawn of a new day.

He gives me sight so I can see

the path I went astray.

On wayward sand, I stretch my hand

granules in my clutch

I'm taken by the wavy band

the grains I dare not touch.

It's much easier for the camel

to pass through the needle's eye

Than you who’s merely mortal

to seek answers in the sky.

The seasons of my mind unfold

His Word for me to preach

As ribbons of the Truth be told

like footprints on the beach.

Poetry Sunday ~ The Flow of Change

Prov. 24:21 “My son, fear thou the LORD and the king: and meddle not with them that are given to change:”

Flow of Change 

In a pool of standing water

There is no ripple to bear

In the running of the river

Seamless change fills the air.

Flowing forward flawlessly

The sediment staggers below

A rocky road emerges

To sever the seasoned flow.

If life is like a puddle

Silent silhouette to remain

Through the open window

Surges streaming pain.

If life whispers like a river

The tide of change will rise

Echoing in the morning wind

Released in dewdrop cries.

The year of change is colored

By departure of all sin

Behold the rampant glory

Emanating from deep within.

1 Cor. 15:51 “Behold, I shew you a mystery; We shall not all sleep, but we shall all be changed,”

Mystical Waterfall

Job 10: 12 Thou hast granted me life and favour, and thy visitation hath preserved my spirit.

Mystical Waterfall

Walking to the waters crest

the sound of a spraying shower.

There amid the foliage guest

belies a hidden bower.

Mightily the water runs amid

this cove that I have found.

The moistened place no longer hid

with its forceful rushing sound.

My clothes I peel and lay aside

to wade this peaceful setting

I now become the water's bride

the fall my face is wetting.

My head tilts back just a bit

cascading water flows.

In this brimming abode I sit

away from worldly woes.

Serenity has a hold on me,

may its presence never cease.

Here alone to freely be

one with intimate peace.

The Pool...

Pss. 49:3 3 My mouth shall speak of wisdom; and the meditation of my heart shall be of understanding.
***

Writers call it the pool of words, some the pool of thought, any way you look at it, there is a metaphorical meaning behind... the pool.

Steven King made fictional use of this pool in Lisey’s Story. While Lisey and her deceased husband found the pool to be either a healing place, an imaginary portal that few could step through, or a burying place where the deceased lingered or passed into another realm, the pool existed in their minds, and apparently Manda bunny, Lisey’s sister.

In a form of reality, the pool exists within each and every one of us but often we get so caught up with our daily existence that we never take a dip. We stand back looking at the ripples, fear the plunge because the water appears too cold to be immersed in, or we just walk around the pool edges running our fingers across the top, so we can add to the ripples.

In the pool lies clarity. I love a pool that is ice blue, wrinkled with drips of sunshine embellishing the length and depth. A pool is so different from say an ocean or a river because of the clarity. (assuming you have the proper chemicals and filter to keep it clean.)

The ocean can be laden with crabs and such that keep you at a foots length from really diving in to feel the jellyfish wriggle between your legs. The river is equipped with many rocks and sharp edges that you always want to be wearing protective gear on your feet so they don’t get cut or bruised.

Then there’s the pool. The refreshing pool that sits with it’s wavering water, calling out to you to come in and drink from the beauty. You wade into the shallow end, perhaps slowly making your way to where the water almost crests the mouth then you feel yourself getting lighter and lighter and you float off to the deep end. I always like clinging to the side with my feet paddling behind me, a complete control experience.

Writer’s are metaphorical people. We like to swim, not dip in the pool! This is where we get our clarity, whether we are in the ocean of turmoil, the river of boulders, or the pool of sanity; we swallow all of the offerings and gulp down the intense feeling and bring forth a story of reliable prose.

We have a filter in our brain that allows us to see through the murky, algae infested waters and it is in this place...we listen. We block out all of the incoming thoughts, scrambled as they were and we decipher just what the universe is trying to tell us.

The pool is our meditative process, one that a lot of writer’s or people, rarely dip into, for unknown reasons. Why not dapple in the pool of silence and meditation? You’ll see... it's a clarifying experience.

Pss. 119:99 I have more understanding than all my teachers: for thy testimonies are my meditation.

The WIND!

Gen. 2:7 And the LORD God formed man of the dust of the ground, and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life; and man became a living soul.

***

Is anybody listening? You can hear the wind with its deep prolonged howling out there like a wolf baying at the full moon. Tell it to go away! Day after day, night after night, it prowls the grounds like a morning mist.

I remember in days past the wind was just an element that blew throughout any given day, a tousle of the hair here, a flip of the bangs there, but recently the wind has become a force to reckon with all its own.

It’s nasty, aggressive, life maiming, brutal and merciless. It pounds on windows without a care, it sweeps through the farm like a handmade broom by God, it is a horrendous creature about to devour anything in its wake.

Does anyone ask me if I like it? I don’t. I dislike walking in it, I get wind burn. I despise driving in it as it pushes my car from side to side making me feel like I’m inebriated. The wind hates me and I loathe the callous beast!

It is an obnoxious animal that lurks around every corner just waiting to whip your face into a contorted snarl. The wind licks the trees like a lollipop and likes to spit out the branches and twigs that get stuck in its teeth.

I try to love all the natural elements of the world Earth, Wind, Fire, Water. But these forces are not just a part of what makes up this world, they have chosen to unleash their wrath upon us humans.

I looked into what affect the elements not only have on us as humans but what toll they have taken on the planet Earth.

Wind = thoughts
Fire = desire
Water = Emotions
Earth = Stability

Analogies? “Cool breeze of reason”, “Flames of passion”, “Swamped by emotions”, and the ever popular “Solid as a ROCK”

We’ve been chained to the elements since the beginning of time. Tornadoes and hurricanes have wreaked havoc, wildfires have swept the forest like a radiant vacuum cleaner, floods have swallowed entire towns, and nature has reproduced and evolved as new living creatures form in the Brazilian Rain forest and deserts around the world.

We have God the Father, and his beloved, Mother Nature, who could be considered the bride and reflected image of Creation. By the breath of production of these elements, it boils down to the very core of our existence.

Out in the playground (Earth) are the children (humans) who absorb, play, laugh and cry as our toys (the elements) treat us like fodder.

We’re not alone in our elemental world. We’re a part of it. Now I need to stop all this bickering about the hate and destruction that the forces force on me and drink in the beauty and  living wonder that they provide.

From a song:

Clothed in rainbows, of living color
Flashes of lightning, rolls of thunder
Blessing and honor, strength and glory and power be
to You the only wise King

You all have a glorious day...

Job 12: 10 In whose hand is the soul of every living thing, and the breath of all mankind.