words come with struggle. cumbersome. awkward. ill-fitting. like when i would slip my school age feet into my mom's grown up heels and parade down the wooden hallway with my ankles wobbling. that's often how my words flow from my mind to the keyboard.
i long for them to have precision and accuracy reflecting the life we have been dealt...not for pity or for sorrow but the words give me an understanding, an outlet for the myriad of emotions that overflow in my heart.
i am not able to place a bow upon this package of dementia and ultimately death...i know my prayers. my deepest desires that i beg God to unfold, but i am afraid to share them out loud. people will judge, see my desires as selfish & ungodly.
amber {my daughter & new +1} is bold & brave & painfully honest in her writing. i echo her anti-prayer.
http://www.mrthomasandme.com/2013/01/my-anti-prayer-request.html
dear God-
you are a God of mercy.
please allow that mercy to rain down on pjm & us
the family that loves him so dearly, we are willing to let him go
knowing You, our Maker, will give him a new mind
and in doing so, will give us peace of mind.
amen.
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