“I love the kinds of hugs where you can physically feel the sadness leaving your body.”
I know not where this quote originated, but I do know its truth.
Tag Archives: sadness
Treasured Memories
I love when something positive can be gleaned from even a sad occasion.
While paying respects at a funeral home on Saturday, I happened upon this quote on a photo display.
“When a loved one becomes a memory, the memory becomes a treasure.”
Is that not so true?
Thinking About You
This message is for all the people I haven’t heard from for awhile; people in the blogging world, people in other parts of the world, people in my own world, and people who may be going through troubling times; either due to illness, grief, depression, loneliness…whatever is going on in your life at the moment.
I’m hearing of some pretty sad circumstances and just want you to know I’m thinking about you.
I’m also thinking about those who are experiencing happiness and joy in their lives. Cherish the moments while they are with you, and when they pass, look forward to their return.
That’s all for now. I just want all of you to know I’m thinking about you.
A Tribute to Robin Williams
On June 6th The Mind Unleashed aired this quote by Robin Williams: “I used to think the worst thing in life was to end up all alone, it’s not. The worst thing in life is to end up with people that make you feel all alone.”
Read that again…and again…it is happening all around us…to us or because of us…to someone, somewhere…maybe even unknowingly in our own little corner of the world. Read it again and again.
How sad is that? And yet how true for many people…especially those suffering, as Robin did, with severe depression.
The man of Mork and Mindy fame is once again traversing the universe in search of a home…a heavenly home this time. May he find it, and rest in peace; never to feel alone again.
Who Am I to Cry?
It is so easy to throw a pity party…just invite me, myself, and I, a few bad memories, a couple of hurtful comments, a large box of super soft tissues for the tears and you’re off to the doldrums!
And then some uninvited guests show up. People who actually care about you; who are ready to cry with you, if needed, but more importantly, are there to let you know you’re not alone in sadness.
One such guest showed up this morning, online, and shared with me the story of her cousins who were momentarily about to lose their precious seven-year-old son to cancer. This dear little boy is losing, or has lost, as I write, his battle with that demon disease. I’m crying for this friend and her cousins.
A similar story came my way a couple of years ago, via another friend who witnessed almost the exact same scenario with friends of hers and their seven year old grandson.
A fellow blogger reminded me of the story she posted of her mother succumbing to cancer’s clutches, and the crushing feeling of helplessness she experienced at that time.
And then there was Kristiana, a dear little member of our church, whose face I can see to this day, who also left her family and friends in a state of sadness for her loss, but also a state of happiness for Christ’s gain. She was thirteen and had fought her battle for nine years.
And so I’m reminded, although we don’t expect to be hurt by the ones we love, it happens: whether by death-which is out of our hands-or unkind remarks, which are also out of our hands, we are, if we are caring people, going to be hurt. Guaranteed. It goes without saying, if we don’t care we won’t hurt.
As always, God has a way of catching me off-guard and causing me to smile through my tears. It happened at nine o’clock this morning, when the child in me began to sing “Jesus loves me, this I know…” and that’s all I needed to know. Everything else is secondary.
So, who am I to cry? Just another person who bleeds when cut, and thankful for those who come by with bandages.
May God bless all those who stand by with those boxes of tissues. I love you.
The Invitation to Lunch
This is a short chapter which speaks of deep sadness.
Chapter Eight – The Invitation to Lunch
Julia and Margaret talked to each other as they tidied up the kitchen, while Maryanne and I sat gazing at our surroundings, wondering why we were there. The big girls didn’t include us in their conversation, and seemed content just to have us with them. Julia’s wistful smile appeared whenever she looked at me, and she constantly played with my hair.
On the way back to school, Julia held my hand and told me about her little sister. Heather was six years old when she was hit by a car last year. She had long brown hair and hazel eyes……..
Tomorrow’s chapter, The Black Sheep, deals with a lesson in feeling different.
My Precious Life 