Grieving is a necessary part of living, for to live, one must continually grow, and to know newness and resilience, one must shed the old self to give birth to the new. Grief is much like the surgeon's knife, cutting away our old ideas of self-sufficiency, pride, and invincibility. The idea of such change angers us, the process frightens us, and the road to healing is painful.

We humans tend to rest comfortably in our easy-chairs of complacency, enjoying the rewards of our labors while complaining about such trivial matters. We may not be as happy as we'd like to be, but we certainly have no desire to lose anything we have! We will not opt for a chance of greater joy at the risk of letting go of the life we know. Even when we are miserable, there's a certain sense of comfort and security in the familiar. Within our souls, we're quite insecure creatures, desiring and even demanding guarantees. How easily we can be lulled into a false-sense of security, trudging daily through our self-made, familiar little ruts in life. Yet, one thing is absolutely certain: This life offers but one guarantee, and that is continual change. Fortunately, we have a Heavenly Father who never changes -- and thus, is the only true source of the security our hearts seek. God is such a genious! He implanted within each of us the desires, needs, and yearnings which only He can fulifll.

One day, tragedy strikes, like a tornado ripping violently and without provocation through our quiet existence of self-made security and illusion of independance. Life as we know it ceases. Questions without answers arise from the fear of the unknown, and we become angry. In fury and confusion, we doubt our beliefs and turn inward to self-pity for solace. As comfort yet eludes us, we once again become angry, shaking our fists at the damned tornado for reeking such havoc and desolation. Yet, we deceive ourselves, for we are truthfully angry with God for allowing such a thing to destroy our lives. And fear, in whatever form, is ever-present, as we attempt to run from the tragedy to escape the pain. Herein lies the mistake which keeps us bound to the very thing from which we seek release...

Every rose which thrives on the bush must eventually wilt, die, and fall from the stem, making way for yet another bloom. Ceaselessly growing, changing, and renewing, its roots are embedded deeper and more stable each season, with branches stretching stronger and more securely toward the sun for nourishment. The rose bush does not resist the process, grieving its dead and fallen flowers. It surely rejoices at the opportunity to continue living and blooming anew, knowing that each season it survives adds greater stamina and fortitude to not only produce more beauty, but also to endure the next season of shedding and pruning. The rose bush intuitvely knows to thrust its roots, without question, firmly into furtile soil, to reach with all its might towards the sun, and with the will to survive, it worships its life-giving source. To resisit nature's pruning would surely mean death. Like ourselves, the rose bush was once small and frail, dancing with uncertainty through its first harsh season. Yet, as it limply swayed and bended with the forceful winds of change, its roots became more determined to grow deeper, its stems to extend higher. With each passing season of loss and renewal, it gained vitality and stamina, allowing the winds to blow away its dead and inhibiting layers without being broken beneath the force of the very event designed to make way for new life.

I know many people who seem to live fairly comfortable lives, without many upsets or devastating heartaches. I once looked upon these folks with envy, angry about my sorry lot in life -- a rocky marriage which meant so much to me, a father with cancer, divorce, single parenthood, aloneness, and then this thing called lupus. Beneath all the anger and jealously awaited the silent, yet deadly vipor known as fear. The fear of being alone, fear of failing to raise respectable children without a father, fear of losing my own father to death, and the fear of what lupus was doing and would do within my body.

I finally surrendered my internal battle with desperately seeking human comfort and understanding, and began to walk into the unknown by faith. Holding only God's hand, I traveled through the thorns and briars of grief, mourning the loss of the life I once knew, before sickness, before aloneness, before endless responsibilities and uncertainties. And most of all, I grieved my shattered illusions... dreams die hard, slow and painful deaths. Yet, I determined within myself that I did not need sympathy, but rather to find spiritual strength through the storm.

Pretending to be brave, I clung to my Creator's promise of love, trudging passed the frightening shadows of despair and isolation. I then held on tightly to God, took a deep breath, and allowed myself to experience the pain, asking what I could learn from the experience, rather than resisiting the changes. As a result, I found that God gave me the endurance to face and overcome my fears, while proving His ability and willingness to uphold me, protect, guide, and love me. As I once ran from the pain and fear, I was also running from the gifts these were offering me. By accepting them, I was given the opportunity to develop more trust in God, to find inner strength I never knew I had, to receive the endurance to face future troubles, and to gain the assurance that if God can see me through all this, then He can surely love me through anything else tomorrow may bring. Fear and anger were replaced with peace, joy, and gratitude, and a dependance upon God which affords me a greater sense of independance than I'd ever known before.

So-called "problems" are gifts wrapped in ugly paper. We focus so much on our dislike of the outward appearance that we miss the present inside! Within these packages I have found avenues of purpose and usefulness, as these "problems" enable me to help others with similar experiences. Personal experience is truly our greatest asset. Having problems and various heartaches gives each one of us a reason to reach out to God, a demand for personal growth, and the fulfillment of our innate yearning for truth and unity with one another. At my worst times of sickness, I get on my knees and thank God for allowing me the experience, knowing full well the pain is worth the rewards. For while physical pain remains, my mind and soul are now at peace.

MENU

~ Main Courses/Entree's/Appetizers/Sweets ~ Meet Miss Issy ~ The Manager's Office ~ ~~~ MAIN COURSES: HARDY ARTICLES ~~~ Wood Working For Life (Nationally published) Bless The Children (Nationally Published) Wolf Bitten Five Ways To Minimize Stress Seven Successful Secrets (Publication Pending) ~~~ ENTREE'S: SPICEY SIDE DISHES ~~~ Angry About Your Problems? To Thine Own Self Be True ~~~ APPETIZERS: TANGY ANTIDOTES ~~~ On Adam and Eve On Growing Up On Becoming A Mother ~~~ SWEET SHOPPE: PLEASING POETRY ~~~ Heaven Swept The Play of Love I Am Still Here This Room ~ (Award Winner!) Twenty Years Gone Til Death Do Us Part Dauntless Disgrace The Aged ~~~~ TASTEY TOPPINGS ~~~~ Daily Jokes & Horoscope Recreation Hall ~ Games! What's on the Juke Box ~~~~ MIDNIGHT BUFFET ~~~~ Issy's Credits & Links ~ Show Case of Awards & Web Ring ~ Home Town Historical Sites ~ ~ ISSYMISSY'S HOUSE OF FINE REPUTE ~ MISS ISSY'S BACKGROUND BOUTIQUE ~ Issy/Argentinum presents ~ IMAGEQUEST Miss Issy's Inn ~ The Southern Hospitality House ~ SoHo Community Center ~ SoHo Library (Get Listed!)

Order up the next Entree'!

See what's playin' on the Jukebox!

Step into the Manager's Office.