Sandra Heska King

daring to open doors

  • Home
  • About
  • DISCLOSURES
    • Amazon Affiliate
    • Book Reviews
  • Published
  • Contact
  • Blog
    • Commit Poetry
    • Dared

Surprised by Light

January 19, 2012 By Sandra Heska King

This is the day the Lord has made.

And I am sad.

I’ve misplaced my joy today.

I’ve been thinking about my mom again.

And I’ve been struggling to see her face.

Why can’t I see her face?

The box she gave me last summer still sits next to the pine grain bin in the back kitchen.

It holds my son’s framed senior picture, a photo collage, a small book of photos, a folder of printed emails, and cards my children sent her–slipped back into their envelopes.

She said she was running out of room at home–but why these? Why would she give these back and keep others?

There’s also a plastic baggie of canceled checks. Checks written for my wedding expenses over 40 years ago. Checks made out in her handwriting.

I make some of my letters the same way.

My husband tells me of a woman whose children live hundreds of miles from her. She has cancer, and they’ve hired a stranger to come in and care for her. They can’t/don’t come themselves. He says they might not be healthy either.

I ache for her.

I ache for them.

Sometimes I feel guilty because I did not spend enough time with my mom over the years.

Sometimes I feel guilty for getting married and moving away.

Once during those cottage days she said it seemed I liked my inlaws better.

I ache for her.

I ache for me.

This is the day the Lord has made.

And I am sad.

I stand in front of the living room window and watch the birds.

Mom liked watching the birds during those last days.

I snap some pictures all aimless.

But it’s not until I upload them that I see the bokeh effect and the way the light falls.

I am surprised.

It’s an accident.

Or not.

It’s a gift.

This is the day the Lord has made.

And I am glad.

I will rejoice.

 

Joining in community with Jennifer as we sense His presence, with Bonnie as we think about joy, and spilling crumbs with Emily.

Share this:

  • Email
  • Print
  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Pinterest

Filed Under: stories and reflections

Comments

  1. Patricia says

    January 20, 2012 at 1:11 am

    Yes. Memories and reminders, sadness and gladness, regrets and rejoicing. Beauty for ashes. I pray as you rest tonight, you are comforted and refreshed. Hugs to you, Sandy.

    • Sandra says

      January 20, 2012 at 10:08 am

      Love to you, Pat. And waiting for the in-the-real hug. And laughter. 😀

  2. toni birdsong says

    January 20, 2012 at 1:36 am

    Beautiful Sandy just beautiful. Thank you so much for blessing us with your words. The light on your photos is not natural — it’s from heaven — I’m sure of it. I pray you feel the love of your mom on your face as the sun breaks through the clouds. I pray God gives you a “glimpse” in some way so you can put the pieces of “peace” together. Loving you from Tennessee.

    • Sandra says

      January 20, 2012 at 10:09 am

      There’s one thing I really need, Toni. Ice cream!!!

      Love you big time, sis!

  3. Christine says

    January 20, 2012 at 2:00 am

    My three year old, who has juvenile rheumatoid arthritis, had a bad afternoon of pain and stiffness. I was sad, feeling so helpless. It is heavy many times but always, God rains grace down for all of us here. Just like your photo. I recognize it as Him, and I am glad, knowing he sees her pain and cares to show us He’s here.

    Beautiful, Sandra. Praying for you as I pray for her.

    • Sandra says

      January 20, 2012 at 10:25 am

      Oh Christine. I’ve been to your blog. My mother’s heart aches with yours. Praying for Him to just pour down grace. He does see. And He does care. And one day we’ll understand–at least in part–the whole picture. Praying for and with you.

  4. kd sullivan says

    January 20, 2012 at 7:15 am

    Dear Friend,

    I ache for you.
    I ache for me.

    This is the day that the Lord has made…and I am sad…because you are.

    Maybe you cannot see her face, because she is no longer that body. She is so much more!! Having lost my father a year and a half ago, I can so relate to this.

    …and then in the midst of the darkness, we are surprised by light. He is glorious!

    • Sandra says

      January 20, 2012 at 10:26 am

      “Maybe you cannot see her face, because she is no longer that body.”

      Wow. Just wow!

  5. Megan Willome says

    January 20, 2012 at 7:57 am

    I love this, Sandy. Yes, this is the day the Lord has made, and it is sad. And there are birds and light and cancelled checks. All of it together. Amen.

    • Sandra says

      January 20, 2012 at 10:28 am

      And light overcomes darkness. And joy overcomes sorrow. Amen.

  6. Nancy says

    January 20, 2012 at 8:24 am

    Your post reminded me of this hymn by William Cowper, a man who struggled with deep depression:

    Sometimes a light surprises the Christian while he sings;
    It is the Lord, who rises with healing in His wings:
    When comforts are declining, He grants the soul again
    A season of clear shining, to cheer it after rain.

    I wonder if you had it in mind when you wrote this? In any case, it’s true. The grief is real (I saw you appreciated Mark Roberts’ post this morning). It is the Lord who brings healing, surprising photo by surprising photo.

    Love you.

    • Sandra says

      January 20, 2012 at 10:45 am

      I don’t remember ever hearing that! So I had to look it up and found several renditions, including this more contemporary one. Not sure what Cowper would think about it. 😉

      Sometimes a Light Surprises

      Mark’s posts on Lamentations have been so good. Anything on grief has been catching my eye these days. I recently ordered a couple of books–one called The Mourner’s Dance. I’ll probably be writing a lot about grief in days to come.

  7. Kelly Sauer says

    January 20, 2012 at 9:54 am

    This brings tears; your ache is so vivid here. There is nothing that takes away the pain of the “not there.” Waiting with you in that hurt…

    • Sandra says

      January 20, 2012 at 10:47 am

      Waiting with friends in the hurt. That helps.

  8. ~Brenda says

    January 20, 2012 at 10:29 am

    I’m sorry for your loss, but you expressed your hurts beautifully. And I love your pics.

    My mom still lives, but my mom in law died last year. Please know you are not alone in your grief …

    ((Hugs))

    • Sandra says

      January 20, 2012 at 11:02 am

      I remember when my MIL died. Vividly. Such a hard time. But I didn’t write about it. And I didn’t know anyone (outside family) on the same journey. Hugging you back, sweet Brenda.

  9. Cheryl Smith says

    January 20, 2012 at 4:06 pm

    Your words remind me of well intentioned teenager who promised to take her father to see the ducks. The father spent his last days in a nursing, ducks just outside. And that teen never thought the days would pass so quickly.

    That was more than twenty years ago. I’m sad for him. And I’m sad for me.

    This is the day the Lord has made. I will rejoice and be glad in it.

    • Sheila Lagrand says

      January 20, 2012 at 7:47 pm

      A teenager. Cheryl, I’m so sorry. Such a tender age to lose your dad.

    • Sandra says

      January 22, 2012 at 3:26 pm

      Oh, Cheryl. There’s so much in those few sentences.

      The ache of regret is one of the worst, I think. Sometimes there’s nothing left to do but choose joy. xoxo

  10. Joanne Norton says

    January 20, 2012 at 4:24 pm

    There’s no way to be sure of everything… and that’s a real challenge for those of us who always want to do what’s the best for everyone at every place. When I haven’t pulled it all together, I guess it proves I’m not “Jesus”… and grief and disappointment and “lacking” kicks my tail [obviously, yours, too}. It’s nice to know that the our dear Father will break through those heart-heavy times and “show His light”. Bless you.

    • Sandra says

      January 22, 2012 at 3:27 pm

      When I haven’t pulled it all together, I guess it proves I’m not Jesus.

      So true, CaryJo. It proves how much we need Him.

  11. Dea says

    January 20, 2012 at 4:55 pm

    My husband’s mother was my mentor. She went on to heaven when she was only 58 and I struggle to see her face. And I am sad. And I am surprised by how quickly our mind loses the details.

    I am thankful for the bird watching and the the light captured and a moment of joy in the sadness.

    • Sandra says

      January 22, 2012 at 3:30 pm

      I’m so glad He holds all the details and gifts us with glimpses of Himself in the midst of sadness. She was so young. 🙁

  12. Sheila Lagrand says

    January 20, 2012 at 7:46 pm

    Sandy,

    You’re grieving well. These words, these images, they show it.It’s hard work. Rest well.

    My parents moved away. I still remember my sister saying, “I thought we were the ones who were supposed to grow up and move away.”

    And my dad regrets that distance now, regrets that we had to fly to be by her side, regrets that her grandchildren were far away…I don’t know how to soothe him.

    So I ask God to.

    I’m asking Him to soothe you too.

    • Sandra says

      January 22, 2012 at 3:33 pm

      It is kind of odd when the parents move. I’m the only one who moved. My brother and sister are still in town. So that sometimes makes me feel guilty, too–but glad that they at least are close.

      Your friendship is soothing.

  13. Jennifer@GDWJ says

    January 20, 2012 at 10:56 pm

    I’m just at a loss for words here, Sandy. This is just a beautiful thing here … A painful thing, but beautiful. I feel like I’ve been invited to witness something very sacred. I don’t take that lightly.

    • Sandra says

      January 22, 2012 at 3:33 pm

      Love you, friend.

  14. Sharon O says

    January 21, 2012 at 12:39 am

    Your words are as beautiful as your pictures. I love it and the love you had for your mom will always be there.
    No matter how many years, she will be close in your heart.

    • Sandra says

      January 22, 2012 at 3:34 pm

      Thank you, Sharon.

  15. diana says

    January 21, 2012 at 1:53 am

    Oh, my. This mother-daughter thread has such tensile strength, doesn’t it? No matter what we do, there is the glimmer of guilt mixed in with the tears. But the guilt doesn’t help much, does it? I pray for peace, for freedom from regret, for continuing reminders of God’s presence, of light, of hope. And I pray that you will see her face, dear Sandy. In your dreams, in your heart. It’s a winding road, this grief-way. And you’ll circle back here again…

    • Sandra says

      January 22, 2012 at 3:38 pm

      I’ve no doubt there will be many circles around the mountain, Diana. But we don’t go it alone, do we?

  16. Kathleen says

    January 21, 2012 at 1:40 pm

    I know the Lord gave you the photos of the birds with the light shining on them to bring peace and loosening the grip of grief on your heart. It is wonderful that you can connect the birds outside the window with the memory of your mother. May these sweet memories soothe and strengthen your spirit.

    • Sandra says

      January 22, 2012 at 3:39 pm

      I’m believing that, too, Kathleen. 🙂

  17. imperfect prose says

    January 21, 2012 at 10:37 pm

    thank you. for being so very real. for letting the light shine, sandra. you don’t know what this means to me tonight.

    • Sandra says

      January 22, 2012 at 3:40 pm

      Reaching through my screen to give you a hug, Em.

  18. Linda says

    January 22, 2012 at 6:21 pm

    I love so much of what you do here Sandy, the words, the pictures. But most of all I love way your real, honest heart shines through it all. It is what makes it so easy to come along-side and say “Yes, me too.” Thank you.

  • Email
  • Facebook
  • Flickr
  • Instagram
  • Pinterest
  • RSS
  • Twitter

Meet Sandra

I’m Sandra, a camera-toting, recovering doer who’s learning to be. still. Read more…

Get updates from the stillness by email

Your personal information is safe and will never be shared.

Archives

Categories

Instagram Inspiration

sandraheskaking

I tossed and turned all night. And then the storm I tossed and turned all night. And then the storm started. I finally got up about 5ish and sat outside to watch. Until a couple mosquitoes found me. Also, the jasmine hadn’t gone to bed yet and smelled heavenly.
Sunday evening. That is all. Sunday evening. That is all.
“The news is not and never has been, because it “The news is not and never has been, because it doesn’t talk about the small moments. Moments that matter to individuals, whatever they do or do not do in the grand scheme of things. And it is in those individual moments that belong to people, that deserve to be faced and remembered as much as every big, world-changing disaster. And nature, because it exists in the details, is too easy to elide, even when trying to talk about it.” ~ Sara Barkat in her introduction to Earth Song: A Nature Poems Experience
🍃
I had to look up “elide.” It’s not a typo. 😊
🍃
Sara goes on to write, “The structure of this book is that of a piece of music. The poems are to be read in order…”
🍃
The first poem she includes is Sara Teasdale’s “Lost Things” that starts, “”Oh, I could let the world go by / It’s loud new wonders and it’s wars / But how will I give up the sky…”
🍃
Good morning sky. Good morning moon. Good morning little bird flying to the moon. Good morning red bottlebrushes nodding in the breeze. It’s good to emerge from this Covid fog. Day 10.
“Truly, we live with mysteries too marvelous to “Truly, we live with mysteries too marvelous to be understood. . . Let me keep company always with those who say “Look!” and laugh in astonishment and bow their heads.” ~ Mary Oliver in “Mysteries, Yes”
🌱
No way could anyone ever convince me that this world in all its beauty and creativity and mysteries is here by accident.
Food truck night with a newcomer—@crepstick. So Food truck night with a newcomer—@crepstick. So yummy! I hope they come back.  But maybe not too often or I’ll have to do double time on the exercise.
“Embrace this day knowing and showing the world “Embrace this day knowing and showing the world that your God is more than enough for you.”
🌿
@tamiheim @tonibirdsong 
In @stickyJesus: How to Live Out Your Faith Online
My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the str My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion.” Psalm 73:26 (ESV)
🌿
I’d almost forgotten what quiet mornings on the patio were like. (Quiet except for the birds and the sound of the neighbor’s AC.)
So yesterday I saw my cardiologist. It was the fir So yesterday I saw my cardiologist. It was the first time he wanted to see me in 6 months instead of a year. He said my aortic stenosis had gotten worse. Like on the cusp of moderate to severe. 😬

So the first thing he asks me is, "How's you daughter?" Wait. Isn't this supposed to be about ME?

Then he asks if I've had any symptoms. "Well, I don't know. Maybe. I felt a little dizzy out of the blue a couple times. And felt like I couldn't catch my breath. I wouldn't have paid any attention if I didn't know I was supposed to be watching for symptoms. I DID walk all over Israel and up a bunch of steep hills, even all the way up to the Golan Heights--against the wind--without anything but normal fatigue.

He laughs. "I created a monster." Ummm, yeah.

"Have you been exercising?" 

"Well, yeah. We walk a couple miles a day. I'm back on my Nordictrack Strider." I didn't tell him I'd been lifting some light weights and some very heavy boxes and other items during this renovation, though I was told in December not to.

So he listens to the beating of my heart. Then he says, "Well, I don't think the valve is ripe yet. I don't expect you to have symptoms for three or four years. You don't need to come back for a year."

Wait! So you ask if I have symptoms. But you don't expect symptoms--yet. And when I do have symptoms, someone is gonna do something. And then I'll be older and maybe weaker. Or what if I have some sudden and silent symptom and boom! And now I have to worry about that. 

(In other news, my oldest grand texts me the other day, and our conversation runs like this... (continued in comments)
Last weekend we were in northern Michigan. And the Last weekend we were in northern Michigan. And there were lilacs. They even shook their heads over tornado-induced devastation. Look for the beauty and sweet scents in the midst of the mess. I miss the lilacs.
Yesterday’s morning view. We haven’t seen the Yesterday’s morning view. We haven’t seen the sun all day today.
When the folks in my hometown of Gaylord, Michigan When the folks in my hometown of Gaylord, Michigan ate their breakfast Friday morning, they had no idea what terror and devastation they'd face before dinner. Everyone has a story. You've probably seen pictures.

If not, take a peek at @mlivenews .

My great-nephew, not quite 12, had just gotten home from school when the EF-3 came down the street and left its mark on every home. My niece frantically tried to find her way from work through debris and blocked roads. My sister was 30 miles away visiting my dad in rehab. I don't want to know how fast my brother-in-law drove. 

The house and yard took a hit, worse than some, not as bad as others. A mobile home park was demolished--two deaths there. I heard one person is still missing. So many injured. So much awful. But the town is coming together for each other. Pray for them.

We plan to fly up Thursday--already planned to celebrate my dad's 95th birthday. 

Also, if anyone feels led to help, the Otsego Community Foundation and Otsego County United Way are accepting donations. Note “Tornado Relief.” Beware of any other fundraising requests.
Cutting tonight’s walk short. Stupid blue jay. N Cutting tonight’s walk short. Stupid blue jay. Not this one. A different one. But still. (My niece believes blue jays are a visitation from Grandma—my mom.) 
My shirt says “Walk in love. But I’m not feeling very loving. And if it WAS my Mom AKA Mother Mary Esther of the Order of Perpetual Birdwatchers, I’ll bet she’s having a good laugh. A passerby said she heard it was good luck and I should buy a lottery ticket tonight. In other news, I also banged my hip bone against our bed’s footboard and gave myself a mighty bruise. Then I burned my arm on the top of the grill. I did manage to wash all the knives without cutting myself and didn’t start any fires. So how was your day?
And now… “From the rising of the sun to the pl And now… “From the rising of the sun to the place where it sets, the name of the Lord is to be praised.”
The world’s a mess, but His mercies are new. The world’s a mess, but His mercies are new.
When we were in Israel last month, we visited @yad When we were in Israel last month, we visited @yadvashem - the World Holocaust Center in Jerusalem. There wasn't enough time to spend nearly enough time. 

The Valley of the Communities was very moving. It's a labyrinth of stone from which there seems no way out. Our guide said It gives an idea of the endlessness of the horror. His parents emigrated from Vilna (the Jerusalem of Lithuania), before the Holocaust. In 1935, thirteen of his family members still remained there. By 1945 only one--an uncle--had survived. He wrote a book about them from a bundle of old letters. "One story out of millions."

"This memorial commemorates the Jewish communities destroyed by Nazi Germany and its collaborators, and the few which suffered but survived in the shadow of the Holocaust."
#Israel2022 #HolocaustRemembranceDay
“From my favorite spot on the floor, I look up a “From my favorite spot on the floor, I look up at the blue sky and the bare chestnut tree on whose branches little raindrops shine, appearing like silver, ” Anne Frank wrote in the Diary of a Young Girl. Watching the tree change through the seasons her family spent in hiding in an attic gave her hope. The Holocaust Memorial Center is one of only eleven sites in the United States to receive a sapling from that tree. I stand at “her” window and imagine hanging hope on a tree.

"It happened, therefore it can happen again: this is the core of what we have to say. It can happen, and it can happen everywhere.” ~ Primo Levi

From a post I wrote for @tspoetry after a visit to the @holocaustcenter.

https://www.tweetspeakpoetry.com/2016/07/27/regional-tour-holocaust-memorial-center-farmington-hills-michigan/
Stunning tree I parked near at Bible study yesterd Stunning tree I parked near at Bible study yesterday. I was in a rush and failed to snap the whole tree. I need to run back before the flowers fall. I think it’s a jacaranda? I want one.
Speaking of birds... bluejay in my backyard this a Speaking of birds... bluejay in my backyard this afternoon. I thought he was hurt, but I think he was just trying to cool off. (Maybe it's a young one.... unless it's the light?)
Someone should do something about that dog. She’ Someone should do something about that dog. She’s yelping and carrying on like she’s in some awful pain.
“Now in the place where he was crucified there w “Now in the place where he was crucified there was a new tomb in which no one had yet been laid.” ~ John 19:41

“But the angel said to the women, ‘Do not be afraid, for I know that you seek Jesus who was crucified. He is not here, for he has risen, as he said. Come, see the place where he lay…’”~ Matthew 28:5-6

Many wonder if this tomb, which lies just a few yards west of Golgotha could be the place where Jesus lay and rose. I wish we could have lingered longer here in this garden and in the tomb itself. It was easier for me to imagine the events of that weekend happening here than in the heavily incensed, decorated, dark and crowded Church of the Holy Sepulchre… though my hairdresser said her old boyfriend “got chills”’when he entered that tomb. We did not go inside that one because the line was way too long. 

At any rate, the most important thing is that he tomb is EMPTY and HE IS RISEN!

HAPPY EASTER!
#Israel2022 #GardenTomb #Easter
Load More... Follow on Instagram

Get the Mug

Embrace the life you have t s poetry mug

Privacy Policy

Full privacy policy is available HERE.

I Read Light

TSP-Red button

bibledude-net



Sponsor a Child

Join the Compassion Blogger Network

[footer_backtotop]

Copyright © 2022 Sandra Heska King · Site by The Willingham Enterprise, LLC on the Genesis Framework by StudioPress · Log in