MISSING CHRIS

A quiet place for reflection drew me in today

A calm place to contemplate why you went away

The reflections in the still water soothed my aching heart

Made thus by nature's insistence that we part;

You were my dancing jester, in life for the thrills

You grinned like a mischievous pixie, and sometimes gave me chills

You sat quietly beside me, when you knew I was in pain

How I wish you were still here with me, so we could chat again!

I know you're in a better place, where no pain or agony prevails

It makes things no easier, as my wound heart bewails

I see you laughing merrily as you play your saxophone

Sitting by the Master's side, as you issue my call to come home;

I have yet many missions here, assigned by the Father at birth

To dance while in agony upon His sainted earth

To bring others to His throne, to seek His benevolence

To give the gift of compassion, so scarce in the modern world;

But mostly to remember you to those you never met.

You were special then, you're special now, and will ever so remain

It's time for me to finish this, my continuing mournful refrain

Because you wouldn't want me suffering, you'd want my joy instead;

So here I take a pause to turn my pain upon its head!

@2010 by P.K. Taylor (Flora Belle Jardiniere)

Wandering Amidst the Wounded

SOARING HIGH & FREE

He seeks his sustenance, soaring over stubble

We seek ours, running over others

Heedless of our damages as we rout

Our nightmares and dump our dreams

Working ceaseless tears, wounds unbound

Festering in our loved ones while

We dance amidst their scars wondering

Why they persist in ignoring us

Oh, to soar as the vulture after some purpose

Removing eyesores instead of making them

Cleansing our earth preferred to further

Filthifying it with our offal and discards

Whether of flesh, bone, or other materiel

Freshly cast off for another to find

Heave a plenty upon discovering our

Worst days' labors, heavy into autumn's

Rising tides, sunbeams, and clouds

Attempting eternity and falling far short

Riding high on our puny egos' delusions

Whilst we sink another's truest dreams

All in aid of our self-absorption

And to our peril, for we are not islands

Rather bastions of hope for those

Wounded in service of our liberty.

@ 2010 by P.K. Taylor (Flora Belle Jardiniere)

Saying Good-Bye

Petra & Her Brother Chris in 1963

How does an older sister bid adieu to a beloved younger brother? How does anyone send off someone who by all things natural should have buried her?  There are no simple answers to help heal my wounded heart, nor are there pat responses to ease my guilty conscience.  These will only come with time and acceptance of how things turned out in the end.

I could choose to wallow in self-pity and thus join him in spiritual death, but I'm not made that way.  Instead, I will celebrate the life he lived and the man my brother was while he walked the earth with me.  I will do that with joyous melancholy, as is my privilege as mother's oldest child.  I will not wail, lament his loss, or curse God for taking him so soon, because that curtailment was a merciful end to his suffering.  (He died of melanoma.)

I will praise our Maker for His mercy, for my remaining family members, and for all the new friends I met at his memorial because it is the healthy and right thing to do.  While it might seem more than a little odd to you, my readers, it is in proper tune and cadence with the woman I have become; for I choose not to rage and rant, thus prolonging my agony, but to rejoice in the memories I share with my family and friends.

I strongly believe that it is also what he wishes for us, because he was an ebullient and mischievous person while he shared our lives.  He loved fiercely and clung tightly to us, thought I did not realize this until I began my rambling thought piece about him.

He stood quietly by our sides, waiting patiently for us to realize that he needed us and mostly we did; although I suspect not as soon as or quite in the way he hoped we would.  He never left my heart for a moment, though he ofted left my mind for days.  Then, in a burst of sisterly intuition, I would call or voicemail him, knowing he needed to hear from me.

I'd say something prosaic, like, "Hey, lil bro, it's me, big sis.  Just checking in to let you know I'm okay."  I let him know that I was okay, so he could stop worrying about me for at least a few more weeks.

I most enjoyed calling him on his birthday because he was always upbeat and almost always answered his phone.  I'd sing him happy birthday, we'd chat for a while, and then go our merry ways.  This last August 30th I didn't want to hang up because I sensed there was something seriously wrong with him.  As usual, my intuition was correct.

They diagnosed him with melanoma of the lung in late October and removed the affected organ in early November, hoping that they got all of it.  They didn't.  Instead, he felt a bit off still and had them do an MRI of his brain; where they found 15 additional masses, three of them quite large.  It only took three further months for the disease to claim him and no one was ready for the phone call announcing his death.

I'll never forget his last two-word text message, a simple "Thank You," that gave me hope we'd chat again.  I returned with this answer, "4 What," little knowing it was his kind good-bye.  I again only realized this later as I reflected on him and his way of dealing with pain.  He cared so much for us, his family and friends, that he seldom let us know he was in pain.  This time he had to, because it wrinkled his normally placid brow and turned a usually placid man into a blob on the couch.

I must find a way to save that message, for it said everything about who he was.

Discipline vs Punishment

Discipline encourages change, while punishment inhibits it. It accounts for an individual child's emotional maturity while gently, firmly, giving her the tools she needs to obey your commands. It rewards positive actions while correcting negative ones without crushing the child's spirit and sense of wellbeing.

Punishment is a bigger person forcing a smaller one to do as directed, whether the little one can do as ordered or not. It teaches children how to bully their smaller peers, siblings, and others long before it teaches them how to lovingly correct another's aberrant behavior. There is NEVER good reason to hit a child, so spanking is definitely out.

Discipline is the consistent, firm, and loving enforcement of previously established boundaries. It consists of helping a child understand why a rule is necessary, proving that you will always enforce it, and that the restrictions increase with each repeat of the offense that engenders them. It begins in your heart, as you recall how badly you felt when your parents grounded you, removed a treasured toy from your toybox until your restriction ended, and how overjoyed you were when they returned it.

It ends when the child learns her lesson and not before then, lest you confuse her. It persists in spite of temper tantrums, through attempts to avoid it, and until you are certain your baby has learned the lesson the discipline was intended to impart to her.

Punishment, contrarily, is an arbitrary act usually inspired by a parent's anger with a child for overstepping a boundary unawares or for committing a known infraction repeatedly. It does not account for a child's seeking your affection in a negative fashion because she is not getting it any other way. It does not permit an occasional lapse or episode of forgetfulness.

It implies that you are a perfect person, which your child already knows you are not. It robs a child of choices, personal responsibility for her actions, and otherwise discourages change. If you could not keep the rule for which you punish your child, then you have no business issuing edicts and insisting that she obey it either.

Discipline pulls a child back from rushing traffic and gently scolds her for scaring you, whereas punishment permits the child into the flow and risks her death just to prove that playing with fast-moving cars is dangerous. Discipline insists that a child do as instructed, but punishment torments her into tractibility. Discipline teaches listening skills, whereas punishment encourages a child to ignore you.

Imagine if you will, a simple person seeking solace in the arms of Morpheus. We all choose our method, denying our need as we do it because our society trained us to pretend that feeding our soul decent food doesn't matter. Having played that worthless charade since birth, I know how foolish is its course, so I openly, avidly, and whole-heartedly pursue sedation by any means necessary.

I don't use drugs, alcohol, or other such chemical aids because they inhibit the mind that plays here today. Instead, I sit quietly and wait for inspiration to strike. Meanwhile, hurrying mankind, oblivious to my presence, tramples my heart under foot. It hurts! I cry out, but the din of life's concerns drowns my pained cries.

You all suffer similarly, but unknowingly until one such as I informs you. Often, you ignore our gentle nudges, too discomfited by their truths to accept them. Occasionally, desperate for your own release, you follow the flow of our thoughts and at least temporarily find the surcease you seek.

Yes, my language is often overblown. Sure, my hyperbole boils and roils, often confusing you. It is my gentle way of coping with the stresses this life presses into my plastic spirit, so they don't overwhelm the message God gives me to carry to you. Gentle spirits, rest...do not seek surcease in drugs, for their joys do not last a moment and you must again partake.

Instead, reach inward and discover the kernel of wheat chafing at your conscience; for that kernel causes your current agony. Seek it, smell it, taste it, and then let it go...for it is of no further moment to you. If said kernel urges you to renew the acquaintance of children you sired but abandoned to your roving ways; shame already eats away at your heart, so I will not add any here. This reminder is enough.

Seek them, find them, and then play with them as a fellow child. Give loving discipline (I'll address this versus punishment in a new blog) as needed, caring enough to issue it calmly. Be warned that you aren't a hypocrite (politicians should not instruct their progeny to tell the truth always, for that is a foreign concept to them), for your children will out you more surely than a thorn under his saddle causes a horse to buck at the irritation. They will listen politely, assure you they'll obey, and then do as they've seen you do.

You have no recourse when this happens, for you aren't the example you should be. If you urge restraint, exercise it yourself. If you urge truthfulness and loyalty, live them. You cannot hope to reach them if you are not living as you insist they live. It is NEVER too late to change, nay it is wholly necessary each day, for we are never the same person when we awaken that we were when we last went to sleep.