From today, September 4:
I was given a gift of wanting to live life even when things aren't all that great. I was given a gift of a will to live and sometimes even relish living because indeed my circumstances are delightful. I was given a lot that isn't mine to deserve or take credit for. I am blessed and now I am aware of it.
From September 2:
Ode to Joi
Why did you go, Joi?
No one wanted you to leave.
We all thought you were the bee's knees. Sweet as honey, sharp as a stinger.
You were a bright light in the darkness even if that darkness overshadowed you at times.
The other night you were in my dream and I knew that it didn't make sense. I think I asked you, "But how can you be here, aren't you dead?" You replied (or somehow I knew), "It's okay, it's different in a dream."
So you were there and it was confusing.
But then...your suicide didn't make any sense and yet it was there (as another friend reminded me).
We know and we say; you are with the Lord.
Maybe you felt a little like Paul, torn as your mortal body fought against your spiritual one.
"For indeed, in this house we groan, longing to be clothed with our dwelling from heaven, inasmuch as we, having put it on, will not be found naked."
We never thought you naked. True, your vulnerability was difficult for me sometimes. I never could understand the depth of sadness I saw you carry. I didn't see how you carried it so far and so long.
Yet, you had a kind of awesomeness in your vulnerability. It's what made you love people. It's what made others love you.
You were giving me courage to speak out my weakness and not be ashamed. You were giving me courage to honor and give to others beyond what I thought I could. That courage you carried and gave to others; that is a rare, fragile gift.
I will never understand why you left.
If you were here now we would probably be talking now, you and me, about life and how hard some things are and yet also about the hope for the world and a vision to see things made new. You were not perfect, but you were a saint and you had such a heart for the world. Later, to ease things you would probably joke and make some berserkly geeky reference and laugh your lovable, quirky laugh -- snort and all. I miss that laugh. Then we would craft a plan to do something absolutely gleeful and probably bless others at the same time. You were that lady. Even when you were not doing well and could not muster it you still gave so much (and were so much) and you were (and are) a lady so beloved. I wish you had known it deep in your bones.
I am just hoping that I can remember that you are one of many treasures (as you showed me in welcoming so many yourself). One sweet day I'll meet you again and see you fully for who you really are and were always meant to be. Joi: renewed: Rejoice. We will be able to say it again and again and mean it.
And it won't be a dream; and it will make more sense than anything else ever has.
