Well, it's two days away from the official release of AIJAN and I am experiencing a sense of anticlimax.
It probably has something to do with the 9/11 anniversary, about which I feel so much, I can't even put it into words. One stark memory is attending the wake of a church sister. She'd just graduated from college working F/T and going to school at nights. She was about thirty-eight, in her prime. There was no body for the casket, just a graduation picture of her proudly holding her degree--you see, there was not enough of her found to fill a casket, just an arm.
I remember thinking--how unfair! Just as her life was starting to take off. I remember questioning God about it. I don't remember His answer, but I do know that I found peace in the thought that she was fully persuaded that Jesus was the answer. She was enthusiastic, down-to-earth and a joy to be around. I guess her purpose here on earth had been fulfilled.
I continued on with my life, and as each day went by, it became easier to forget 9/11 because other things happened in my life and in the world, KATRINA for instance. I'd like to think that I played a part in helping out, but whenever is the assistance enough in situations like that?
Again, I continued on with my life, and it was not till last August that it really dawned on me how I could ceaselessly continue to assist others through the catastrophic disasters that can become one's daily existence. Said catalyst was a worship service I attended at another church in which a young woman of the congregation was shot by her boyfriend because she attempted to break up with him. She'd just given her life to Jesus and was cleaning out the clutter in her new existence and then she was cut down.
Again I remember thinking--how unfair! Not only that, I remember being grateful that it wasn't me. So many times in my search for love, I've not always made sound choices, but God's grace and mercy preserved me. Why?
Because my purpose was not yet fulfilled. I'd like to think that I now make better choices, that I love and see myself as God sees me--but some days I regress--but resurgent was the burning desire to reach out to my fellow sisters (and brothers) to encourage, caution, enlighten. We have freedom of choice, let us use it, even in our search for love.
I want to thank each and everyone of you for your feedback, support and prayers.
Here's a quick bit of prose poetry I just composed on the fly, dedicated to the victims and survivors of 9/11, KATRINA and the ever present, perpetually silent--walking wounded among us:
We Can Choose
We can choose to be happy
or incessantly be crappy
We can choose to share
or be cluttered with despair
We can choose to care
or remain unaware
We can choose to forgive
or regret the life we live
We can choose to let go
or hold on to what we know
We can choose to move away
or suffer the pain and stay
We can choose to help others
or consider it a bother
We can choose to speak out
or forever have no clout
or continually count on self
or settle--then self-hate
We can choose to live in the present
or consider days reminiscent
Or we can choose to live most prescient,
give honor to those who've gone before--
like Jesus the Christ, He is no folklore!