I Don't Want . . .

While I am sure that no one is particularly fond of needles that are stuck inside one's body, I positively loathed them as a boy. Now that I am in my fifties, I am aware of their value in delivering medicine to aid my body, so I endure them. You would have ejoyed the show I put on as a little boy, though, when I perceived the piercing of my skin to be imminent. I hated shots so much that when my mother said that she was going to take me to the doctor (which she would not do unless I was REALLY sick), I would cry and say over and over again, "I don't want a shot! I don't want a shot!" (Maybe that is one reason it was so terribly difficult for me to give Linda as many as eight to nine shots a day her last few months.) Unfortunately for me, I went to Dr. Crumpler who thought that penicillin was the panacea of all panaceas. The nurses would come out into the waiting room and give all present a shot, whether they were patients or not. It's not that I am lying, maybe I am just remembering big!

I still cry, "I don't want . . .!", but my heart is looking backwards, not forward. Sometimes when I think about Linda- especially when I see a picture of her - I will immediately cry out, "I don't want her to be gone! I don't want you to be gone!" But, she is gone.

Before I continue, I must say a word about writing in the first person singular. The person typing this post prefers not to participate in the "Age of Me." (Just in case, said person is moi') Well, since the heart is deceitful (Jeremiah 17:9), perhaps I should say that I don't like to be caught indulging cathartic ruminations about self. Anyway, the reason I feel compelled to write is that I have received so much encouragement from so many of you. You have told me how much it helps to identify with a fellow-struggler. So, the person typ . . OK, I will continue.

I have always been a rather emotional person. When I am "up," life is grand! When I am "down," life can be painful and difficult. Years ago I decided to attempt to regulate my emotions. That meant not allowing myself to get so excited in the good times, nor to allow myself to go to the depths of despair. Even though the difficult spots have been relatively brief through the years, they have been intense and I felt like I needed to limit them. Usually when I get down, I can listen to some melancholic music and feel better. Go figure. In fact, I could have written "Sometimes I Feel Like a Sad Song" if John Denver had not beaten me to it. Oddly enough, a little sad music makes me feel better.

Not this time. Not that I have quit listening to sad music, but I do miss by baby. I still have the ups and downs, so you may catch me laughing heartily. As I have told you before (maybe several times), soon after Linda died, I went to a place that I did not know existed. After about two weeks in the deepest hole I have ever experienced, I decided to manage my grief. I do not mean that I have built a wall and shut my true emotions off. I just didn't think it was healthy - physically, emotionally, or spiritually - to stay in that place. So far, I think it was a good decision. Even so, I frequently find myself crying out, "I don't want you to be gone!"

In all of my pain, I find God to be both patient, and drawing me to Himself. Since I indulge my grief, I am so grateful that He is patient. I want to "want Him" more than anything in this world. I am not there right now, but I sense His call and I am at peace, even when I am sad.

If you are grieving and you want to correspond directly, please reach me through our website: http://www.graceccnc.org/ I would give you my personal e-mail, but several of you have not been able to get through to my embarqmail account. One of these days I am going to switch to gmail. Even now, I can hear the cheers from the under thirty crowd. God bless you - but only those under thirty, and those thirty and over!