Wednesday, February 16, 2005

Angel Kiss

My mother is there and she's crying
Oh, Lord please, can't you see
Her heart is breaking slowly
and I know it is because of me

There is nothing I can do, Lord
no consoling words or groans
I have a different mesage
that I know she's not alone

Ring the doorbell of her heart
let her know I am still there
God I am asking this in seeing
Your shining presence here

I've wiped her tears each evening
but today I can't be found
I worry about my mother
because I am no longer around

Please give her strength each day Lord
How much can a soul for me miss
Send these angels to watch over her
and place on her the kiss

Copyright © 2005 Olivia M. Hall.

Left Behind

All is quiet within her house. It used to be filled with laughter and joy. But the events of the week determined today unwanted. She periodically looked out the window in hope for what was true to be a creul mean joke. His truck was parked under the large oak tree. He was not here. The truth was evident, he was gone and never coming back. Buddy sat at the end of the driveway expecting the same thing, maybe they'd wake up and it would all be a dream.
She thought she had seen it all in her long life. Wars of age ripping families apart by death and disorientation of the mind. Societies demands and expectations cursed generation after generation. The future dangled on a string fragile enough to snap at any moment. And for her, it already has. She felt like a character in a book she read to her children and grandkids. It was no coincidence her name too was Alice. Tumbling down the hole that would leave her life forever changed, she was lost in a place she never knew exsisted. Every sound once familiar gave chills to her body. What used to give comfort only seemed cold with regret and sorrow. She knew what was expected of her now, to die.
Day after day it continued. Sleep was not available to those who mourn. It is a luxury for people who deserve it. She blamed herself deeply and whole heartedly. The "what if's" and "maybe's" drove her to insanity. She bacame angry, tired, and very very sick.
The phone calls were constant at first. Family, friends, neighbors, and even poeple she had not talked to in years called to give their condolences. They talked about him and his dedication to work, family, and above all God. The mentioning of his name brough great sorrow. Fially she couldn't handle it anymore. She ignored the phone among other things like doctor appointments, lunch meetings, and church. She wanted to disappear like her breathe did upon the cold glass window.
The only thing that brought any amount of comfort was his picture. It was an older one, maybe right around the time when Megan was born. He had a full head of hair, stood tall, and his smile was fresh and crisp as he admired the women beside him, his wife, she. Had it been so long ago? Time slipped by fast crippling her body with aches and pain. Her heart and soul, however, never succombed to the delays. After the kids married, she and Peter would walk often around the neighborhood. They lived there almost 50 years. So many changes developed within that time, and now another change, one that would not come so welcomed. She thought she would be ok when this day came. But, tears did not cease.
Buddy slowly rised and came to the back door. The sun was setting and the cool night air began to shove its way into every hole, especially the one in her heart. She warmed up some meatloaf a friend brought over. It did not taste good. She tried to watch TV, but nothing seemed interesting or decent enough. She called for buddy and they walked slowly down the hall. Buddy jumped on the bed. Peter never let him sleep with them, but since the accident, as though Buddy knew, he slept beside her and did not budge until she awoke.
Climbing into bed, she looked again at the picture that seemed to "follow" her around. She kissed his face and prayed a prayer that night asking for help from the only One she knew understood. She layed her head on the pillow, turned the light switch off, and cried herself to sleep, again.

Copyright © 2005 Olivia M. Hall.

(I don't know why I wrote this, but it just came to me and I felt compelled to write it. I pray for women and men who commit to love their spouse their whole life and then they are seperated not by the soul, but by physical presence. Know that there are great things these people can teach us about life, love, and hope. Seek them out because maybe they are the jewels in our lives that can make a difference to our future.)

Sunday, February 13, 2005

Hospital Memory Three

There will be a day, and I am certian of it, that I will not exist. My name will be marked on stone and my soul will join those in heaven waiting for me. I have thought about my death, funeral, and burial more than people my age do. I am not a morbid negative thinker (at least not all the time).
There were moments in the hospital I knew I was really sick. Doctor's were barking orders as nurses scrambled about. All kinds of medicine was being administered through my IV or central line. Morphine, diloted, and valium were among the most often used. The issue I see in this thought, is people do not live for eternity. If "we" as Christians are being honest, this life only reaps value on the way we portray Jesus in our days. Although I have had many courses on theology, biblical studies, theraputic training, and historical knowledge including learning Greek, I am not a theologian. I don't really care about being "right", but what I live for is wanting to know things in the Bible because it helps me know who I am.
I can't imagine people who do not understand how precious life is. Day to day they are involved in business, people, and even pleasure. I want these things too. But I know they produce no satisfaction. Why is it we think of all the important things when we are almost dead? Why don't we acknowledge these valid things when we are alive and able to do them? I mean how stupid can we be? And even as passionate as I feel as I am writing this, I too struggle with this exact issue every day! YIKES, I am working myself up.
The point is, that in order for something to change, it has to happen within ourselves first. If it takes a near death experience, than I welcome it. Maybe that is why the Bible states we should live every day as though it were our last. I am sure you have been asked that, but in all seriousness, what if you found out that at this time tomorrow you will be dead? Wouldn't you love deeper? Tell your children how much you love them and not to forget you? Would you pray? Would you think about the bad and good things you've done? Would you want to know what will happen to you after you die? Like right at the moment you were taken? I have thought ALL of these things and more. It is scary, but I hope I never will forget it.
I have thought often of just giving up. I am so sick of doctors (although they are wonderful hero's!), medicine, and chemo. I am sure no body would think it odd for me to live in anger because Natalie died, I am sick, and it feels like everything is falling apart so often. I am proud that I have managed to stay this sane actually! (But who knows!!! J/K)
My passion has turned into rambles, but my heart remains bold. I need to continue to find out what is important. God is, and if that is all that makes sense then I need to pour everything I've got into it. Because there is a battle going on, and I know who is going to win. I just hope I can make some pretty good explosions on the losers side before I go.

Saturday, February 12, 2005

Saying Goodbye...Again

"In Memory of Marisa Villenueva" Posted by Hello

Copyright © 2005 Olivia M. Hall. All rights reserved.
No reprints without permission from Olivia M. Hall Inspired by Grace Photography.

Six years ago today, my friend and roomate Marisa died. She and another girl were in a fatal accident that claimed 6 lives all together. I was supposed to be in the car with them, but at the last moment I decided to stay at the dorm for the weekend to spend Valinetine's day with my boyfriend.
It was not hard to like her, she was pretty, smart, and funny. Instantly all of us girls on our hall were friends with her. We talked and laughed all the way to the morning sun rise and slept late almost missing our first classes.
One particular instance imbedded in my mind is when we decided to put on formal dresses at 2am in the morning. We got all dressed up and had another friend take pictures. Marisa held a red rose, and I had a yellow one. This picture reminds me of the wonderful person she is.
It still hurts my heart to think of everything that happened during these weeks so long ago. The wake and funeral, seeing her family, having to pack her stuff in our room, living without a roomate, and all the memories, pictures, and notes. (I still have all the cards and notes we wrote in my "Marisa box.") But, minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, and years go by even if time should stop and grieve with us. Now it has been six years. I sometimes wonder what it would be like if she were still here. But like loosing my daughter, Natalie Grace, dreaming of what will never be reality is a chasing after the wind: it can never be done.
Every year on February 12 I buy a red and yellow rose and go to Lake Fort Phantom. This is where I was when my friends pulled up in a car beside me and told me what happened. I place the roses on the rocks beside the restless water. Thinking perhaps the water knows my restless heart that aches for a resolution of death and sorrow. The picture above are the roses for 2005.
People say after someone dies, the first year is the worst. I agree, however, the pain never subsides, but dulls. Like a wound that scabs and eventually heals, a scar still remains. So it is with death and time. The initial sting is absent, but the wound leaves an eternal altercation on what was once flawless. And time plays no ally to peace and comfort. There is no assurance in trying to reason with what cannot be explained. Only perpetual love and perseverance of God can possibly amount to any ease. And even this journey is not meant to be effortless.

Monday, February 07, 2005


"He felt that his whole life was some kind of dream
and he sometimes wondered whose it was
and whether they were enjoying it."
- Douglas Adams -

Sunday, February 06, 2005

Happy Valentine's Day

Happy Valentine's Day
Copyright © 2005 Olivia M. Hall.
All rights reserved. No reprints without permission from
Olivia M. Hall : Inspired by Grace Photography.
Posted by Hello

Tuesday, February 01, 2005

A Kiss From Mama. Posted by Hello

Copyright © 2005 Olivia M. Hall/Inspired by Grace.

Rain Coat Posted by Hello

Copyright © 2005 Olivia M. Hall/Inspired by Grace.

What Love Is

If you do not know what love is I first ask you to read of Jesus and His life and 1 Corinthians 13. But, if you still do not know read on.
Love is when you know what pain and suffering is and you choose to go on. It is being at your worst moment and knowing the sun will still shine with promise. It is not getting everything right. It is not understanding everything, but admitting you don’t know. It is accepting the future and the person the way they are without the possibility they will change.
People that have been through great pain and emotional hardship have a great capacity to love. It is these people, not famous pop culture musicians who sell their image to make society lust, but people like me who have hit rock bottom and crawl their way back up that know and appreciate love and sincerity.
I have thought much about love and the choice we are given to be vulnerable and innocent. Today much of this is robbed from even the most deserving. I often wonder where the true romantics are. The ones like Shakespeare, C.S Lewis, and millions of other authors whose fiction and real stories inspire love in us all. Maybe the whole romantic scenario has become
make-believe. The progression of sin and our tolerance of it only deepens this acceptance. Unconditional love is becoming a foreign reality that once was known, but now is only imagined. But, then again, I can’t accept this definition because there is one person I am certain that desires real love, and that's me. Not that I can give "perfect love", but that I desire and seek it.
There is something about it that awakens me at night. Like now, I wonder how I got here and where I am even going. It is a decent and understandable question at such a time. I never choose to be sick. I never wanted to loose my daughter and not know if I will ever be able to have kids. Who would? And then when it happened, not only do I have to “deal” with it, but those around me who love and care about me have to as well. My eternal question to ask is, if love only comes with certainty and assurance, if there were no risk or room for mistakes and growth, would love exist at all?
My heart is philosophical tonight, a kaleidoscope of thoughts and emotion. I am not sure if I am coming to any other conclusion but that love is eternal and we must preserve it by looking at lives that have exemplified it to us.

What I am Afraid Of

I was asked the other day what I am afraid of. I did not know how to answer. I don't think I know what I am afraid of. Many people easily say the unknown of death is scary. I once heard one say "I am not afraid to die, I just don't want to be there when it happens." Understandable! It seems much pain is associated with death. I know this because I have been there. I understand the fear, but I have overcome this with wonder and excitment.
Maybe what I am afraid of is not death, but not living.
I was told if we live life always hoping for the next mile-stone we will never really live. We will miss all the things that are happening around us. We ignore little details because we are concentrating on something else. I don't want to wake up when I am 30 or 40 and realize I have not enjoyed life. Living in the moment is living even if it means accepting what is not welcome: pain, suffering, loss. It is knowing the reality of what is happening today, not wishing for tomorrow, or the next exciting thing that says you have lived for the moment. Even Jesus said, "Don't worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own." (Matthew 6:34,35).
And today, I believe this. Maybe I can try to live with excitement to see what God is going to do each day at a time.