Coming Back
It is a much longer, and harder, road back than anticipated. Honestly, I don’t recall even thinking or wondering how long it would take to get back, or, how long I was gone - though now, it feels an immeasurable span of time- yet it was an obvious fact that I had to get back. There was a precipice looming, inches in front of me, one that if stepped off of, would mean no return. No return to the music or writing, no return to sanity and order, and it was very clear, it would be the end of me, who I am and what I do.
To be caught in a web of chaos and confusion, when one’s natural tendency is to sort out chaos and shed light on confusion, and not realize that one is being slowly taken away from all things that give light and life and spiritual growth and abundance, is to be actively participating in the chaos and confusion, helping to create it and employ it. When realization comes, it comes with no gentle hand, but a hard smack, or two. Two, to be exact.
The first one left me dazed, not wanting to believe what just happened. Good old me, never wanting to believe the worst until absolutely forced into believing. No, that did not just happen...yes, it did, but it didn’t...not like “that” anyway...but it did happen...No apology, no remorse, no anything except an excuse of “oops.” With a little time and distance, upon reflection, there was a look, a demeanor, a posture, a way of standing, a wordless statement of satisfaction, of “I got you,” of goal accomplished, a swallowed chuckle. And, when I suppose it was deemed the first one didn’t take properly - or it was gotten away with, there later followed a second, which was then followed by rage. Verbal battery preceded all.
It’s not the first time. But, now I am old and, whereas before, when I was younger, I dusted my self off, squared my shoulders and never looked back. Not this time. The knife of betrayal sunk deeper, caused more damage. Perhaps, as we get older, it takes longer to recover.
I try to see it, the coming back. But, just a few minutes ago while sitting down to learn a friend’s song which had been on my wish list for years, I couldn’t get through it. I could not sing it without weeping, literally weeping. Even some of my own songs now, that happens. But, I think if I keep singing and weep it all out, things will come back around.
Other than talking with Jesus, remembering that He is the one who called me out of slavery, again, set me on my feet again, and holds me up in this world, singing is all I really know how to do.
Everyday Things by Linda Bilque
Maybe when the weather’s better, we can try to get together
Talk about what we remember of how things used to be
Maybe when the weather changes, maybe in the Spring
We can talk about the folks we knew and the way things used to be.
Everyday things are tender, everyday things are sweet
Everyday things make up a lifetime
You were that kind
You were that kind
Maybe you will take my hand, hold it like you understand
That sometimes life’s a litany of misunderstandings
Sometimes life just goes along, sometimes love’s a dream
Sometimes it’s just breakfast, lunch and dinner with nothing inbetween
Everyday things are tender, everyday things are sweet
Everyday things make up a lifetime
You were that kind
You were that kind
Maybe when the weather’s better, we can try to get together
Talk about what we remember of how things used to be
Maybe when the weather changes, maybe in the fall
We can walk among the falling leaves and talk about it all
Everyday things are tender, everyday things are sweet
Everyday things make up a lifetime
You were that kind
You were that kind
