Wednesday, November 17, 2010


An old pain.
A sad longing buried beneath the pile of daily days.

I miss my face.
I forget that my smile is crooked - that one eye presses closed when I laugh.

Then I explain it and a boy kindly says, "Is that why you don't smile on that side? I didn't want to ask because I thought it might be rude." His words remind me that I am not as my mind's eye remembers. I still grieve the loss of my smile.

We talked about it on the way home and Sam asked, "Mum, do you think you'll ever get better?" I wanted to say I don't know, because I don't. But, I want to speak faith. Faith in my Father who spoke Job 33* to Vince in the early days of my loss. So, I grit my teeth against the doubt and answer, "Yes, Sam, I do."

Is that faith that grits its teeth in the face of the seen?

I don't want this sadness to turn to self-pity - that vile, life-sucking vortex. As I reminded Vince, this loss is only skin deep.

* Job 33:23-26 "Yet if there is an angel at their side,
a messenger, one out of a thousand, sent to tell them how to be upright,
and he is gracious to that person and says to God,
‘Spare them from going down to the pit; I have found a ransom for them—
let their flesh be renewed like a child’s; let them be restored as in the days of their youth’—
then that person can pray to God and find favor with him, they will see God’s face and shout for joy; he will restore them to full well-being."

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