Muddled … that’s been the problem.
Awhile back I couldn’t, for the life of me, find my way out of a (small) parking garage. My family, colleagues and students have laughed with (I’m pretty sure it’s with, not at) me and my inability to focus, to remember. I start one task and get so easily diverted to another, forgetting the first one completely.
It all started the day I got the call from across the country, when packing a suitcase seemed the hardest thing in the world (mostly noted when I arrived to see what I had forgotten to pack).
Since that day in late November I have had times of sitting at my computer, oblivious to the unknown minutes that have past since I last tapped a letter on the keyboard. It is as if my brain takes an unexpected hiatus from the body where it is contained … I wonder where it has gone.
I will be helping a student with their math (an area where the pathways in my brain are still firing on all cylinders), the bell will ring and I have no idea whether that was the first or last bell of the day.
I’ll walk determinedly into a room and have no idea why I am there … actually, I am fifty and that is unchanged.
It is said, of some, that the death of a loved one can leave you feeling as if you have lost a part of yourself. I have felt as though I have lost an anchor and am like a boat adrift, moving aimlessly at the discretion of the waves, while, at the same time, looking unchanged, normal, capable.
Most days I function just fine, then my brain simply goes on vacation and I am left with a momentary void. Or I am left struggling to conjure up where my sentence was going. Or, I sit at the computer and cannot, for the life of me come up with anything to write about.
This muddled brain leaves me feeling confusion and insecurity like a boat, unmoored, drifting out to sea, directionless.
Then I read the following words:
Grief, in its excruciating form, is love that no longer has a place to belong.
This muddled mind, this brain adrift … symptoms of a love that has lost it’s mark, it’s destined port. So, it drifts, taking ones senses with it, searching for that which is gone … it’s gone …
he’s gone
and there is no coming back.
“To him who is able to keep you from stumbling …
to the only God our Savior … ”
Jude 1:24
itsawonderfilledlife 