The life and Death of Gloria
Shall it be not her life's shadow;
What shadow she doeth cast'
What light is the source their of?.
that casteth forth;
On her death.
To start an exploration.
On death , or life
- I wanted to see Gloria enter the covenant of Baptism
- I wanted, to see, her conversion, or turning back to God.
- I did not want to see a woman, who was dying, not one grasping for life.
- Gloria helped me to understand that God works in many wonderful ways. He uses his children to bless one another other. We are his hands on Earth.
- God used my parents, who did not attend church services, to support my mission
- God used a member who did attend services to help Gloria gain a testimony of the gospel of Christ.
ON Mommas’ Afghan.
Momma loved to knit afghan’s. They helped her to pass the time when she was watching television. Her Momma taught her how to crochet as a young child. I can remember many hours watching her crochet. She had crocheted so long she no longer watched her stitching, it was a mechanical motion more like walking or chewing gum. I wonder if it helped her to think.
Momma decided each of her children needed a good heavy afghan. She had collected many small balls of yarn from previous projects. The afghan’s were heavy. They had a heavy double stitch, one color on each side. The afghan were so heavy they were best used in the winter.
Each afghan required a year to complete. She worked on those afghans for four years. Each year one of her children received an afghan for Christmas. I wonder if she thought about her children as she was knitting each one of them their afghan. One child could not read well and had difficulty in school. He was color blind and had trouble telling his colors apart. One children read well but had difficulty speaking to people his own age. He never dated much, but was fortunate to find a good woman who understood him. One child never ate enough and had to be reminded when it was time to eat. This child still struggles with her weight and is now developing M.S. One child struggled with her first marriage and lived with Mom for a couple years. Mom helped her to raise her sons until a man came along who loved her boys and adopted them as his own. They now have five more children and how do they keep her busy.
Momma married young and grew up with her children. Her husband was a challenge. Signs of high functioning Autism and hyperactivity are present in the male line of his family. Momma would never have understood these words she just knew Dad had a tough time filtering his thoughts. He spoke out in inappropriate times and in inappropriate places. My Dad and his Father were forbidden to be in the Smith Brother Lumber Company together. One of them at a time was more than a handful.
Each fall my wife pulls the afghan out of the closet and puts is on our bed. I love to fell warm and comforted by it’s weight.
The afghan reminds of my mother and her life. The afghan is no longer perfect like it was when my mother gave it to me. A few years ago I snagged it on a piece of furniture. Their is a small stitch torn out of one side. My mamma's life was like this afghan. It was no loner perfect like it had been when her Momma gave life to her. Even though this afghan is no longer perfect it is still functional and fulfills its purpose. I have ask my wife to repair the snagged. My wife is skilled in the art of crochet. She tells me it is not possible to repair the snag. Even if she did repair the afghan it would no longer be the afghan my mother crocheted. As the year go by I learn to appreciate the afghan for it beauty and its flaw. It becomes more real with time like Margery Williams Velveteen rabbit (see. The Velveteen Rabbit or How Toys Become Real )
(note insert reading from book)
On television, and cheap whiskey
To luv...a choice ?!
to this I do see ?
To choose thus I must?
Though painful it be.
This pain then it brings,
To me it does now.
A lesson to learn
A gift to bestow.
On a "Highway 20 Ride"
Days would not be wasted on this drive
And I want so bad to hold you
Son, there's things I haven't told you
Your mom and me just couldn't get along
So I'll drive
And I think about my life
And wonder why I'll slowly die inside
Everytime I turn that truck around, right at the Georgia line
and I count the days and the miles back home to you on that Highway 20 ride
A day might come and you'll realize that if you could see through my eyes
There was no other way to work it out
And a part of you might hate me
But son please don't mistake me
For a man that didn't care at all
So I drive
And I think about my life
And wonder why I'll slowly die inside
Every time I turn that truck around, right at the Georgia line
and I count the days and the miles back home to you on that Highway 20 ride
So when you drive
And the years go flying by
I hope you smile
If I ever cross your mind
It was a pleasure of my life
And I cherished every time
And my whole world
It begins and ends with you
On that Highway 20 ride....
Writer(s): Zachry Brown, Wyatt Durrette
Copyright: Angelika Music
Together and apart.
Like two beta fish, Locked in a distance, embrace.
Together, and apart.
...
Found, her hair,
in my wallet,
Together, and apart
like she has carried me, for so long.
Why do I carry, It.
Why does she carry,Me.
Daily, We dance.
"The Class"
Dance class, once we tried, together.
Together, we do not dance.
but dance we do, Together and apart.
and yet I have her, with me
Always, The hair, the dance.
Together, and apart.
The poetry,
from whence doeth it come.
Yet heal'th it does,
And renews again.
My muze,
Maybe Milton,
He is
to sleep then this morn.
to this leave I now
her sleeping their on.
no more do I mourn,
to rest I do I leave
this anger, this morn,
to sleep it there'by
to this may it rest
her sleeping there'by.
(Hope of the Gospel; George Macdonald, ch 10)
Not of my accord,
Would you be with me?
Would you hold my hand,
And sing sweet lullabies,
Of comfort to me.
Thou knowest the end,
And the beginning.
What must I learn,
Being driven to Hell,
Like Job, or Virgil.
Thou standest by me,
As a true friend.
Of free will then comes the choice,
But not the consequences.
Never alone, am I,
Or far from thee,
And thy thoughts.
(Inspired from reading of "The Sparrow", Maria Doria Russell,1996)