Grandparenting with Grace: Mistletoe?

This year was going to be "different". We began doing the Advent devotional "The Greatest Gift" Coloring the ornaments to decorate our Jesse Tree. I had cut down on the secular ornaments and concentrated on my many Holy Family pieces. I was going to soak in the true Reason for the Season with my 5 year old grand-daughter.

However, God always has another plan. My father has been struggling with health issues. The past 3 months have been grueling as he has moved from hospital, to transitional care, to an assisted living facility. It's his last move that has rocked our plans though. My Daddy will be spending this Christmas with Jesus. Singing with the Heavenly Hosts. As we here, left behind, do our best to honor him with a beautiful Funeral Service. He is truly happier where he now resides; nothing can compare. We will see him again. But still, our hearts hurt. Our days lengthen with sadness. We reach for the phone-then stop. The Christmas decorations sit, spilling out of storage tubs as we put the details of saying goodbye to our father in order. The house looks like the walls have exploded inward, spewing debris from one end to the other. And I. . . I am having trouble focusing on any given task. Just walking in circles it seems, logging miles but gaining no ground. Yet, doing so much that is needed. And how does one grieve when you are happy there is no more pain and your father has a body made whole by faith in Christ? It's the Holidays of Mistletoe, but it's Bittersweet.

Grandparenting With Grace: Five Minute Friday Prompt Write

 Lisa-Jo Baker encourages,

“. . .on Fridays a group of people who love to throw caution to the wind and just write without worrying if it’s just right gather to share what five minutes buys them. Just five minutes.”  (See more at http://lisajobaker.com/five-minute-friday/ )

   Today’s prompt for Five Minute Friday is WRITE.

I’m a bit late for the Five Minute Friday rush, but here is my 5 minutes worth:

To write is a sacred experience; the sharing of one’s heart.  There is always uncertainty in how one will be accepted, if one will be understood. To write can bring pain, but to not write is indeed painful. Writing transcends the now. It carries one through, furthering this journey called life as it works out the kinks, smooths out one’s rough edges, and brings a calm amidst the rolling storms. Writing gives a voice when verbal communiqué cannot be risked. When one’s speech seems inadequate, when words become lodged mid-utterance- to write can be an egress to the soul. To write gives life to one’s life.