“I will restore to you the years that the swarming locust has eaten…” ~Joel 2:25
Locust years. Those years of our lives that have been wasted.
Maybe it wasn’t your fault. Maybe someone else wasted those years – stole them from you while you were at a disadvantage, through no choice of your own.
Maybe you wasted them yourself – believing lies the enemy told you or getting caught up in addiction.
Whatever it is, God knows. But His knowledge is not a passive thing. He promises to take action on your behalf: “I will restore the years the locusts have eaten…”
Whatever time-wasting, life-wasting events have transpired, God is willing and more than able (Ephesians 3:20) to redeem them to His glory and to the betterment of not just you, but a lot of other people. Such restoration has a ripple effect!
Hey Kelly, I had to drop by an say thanks for inviting me to your blog today. This is a first for me to be honest, I mean I knew what blogs were in theory but not really what they could potentially be in reality.
Thank you for being so honest in who you are sharing your stories and your poems with the world. Your writing is stunning, moving, and empowering. You have a gift for finding beauty and meaning in the midst of darkness and chaos.
With the inspiration brought forth from reading your book, I’d like to at least make some effort towards growth within myself through speaking up on a thing that I have never said outside of my core group of friends and family.
When I was sixteen my hero of pa, Ernest Christian, was ravaged by cancer for 9 months. I remember the day he died vividly. I was sitting in a science class when the crackle of the school intercom interrupted the teacher to call me to the office. I knew as soon as I heard those words he was gone, I remember looking at two of my friends who mirrored the same realization in their concerned faces. I was no stranger to being called to the office, however that’s the longest walk I ever experienced on my way. My legs were shaking and I felt dazed and confused. When I went into the office the school’s secretary said “Your pa’s dead, you need to go home. “ I guess she was having a bad day too. My granny and pa’s house was about 2 or 3 miles away from the school so I got there quickly, and although I don’t remember walking into the house I do remember walking in to his bedroom where he lay, mouth agape, while my little 90 something year old great-aunt was trying to pry his mouth closed out of what I assume to have been forethought to beat the onset of rigor mortis. It was out of kindness is all I know for sure, although it was too late for that by then. The next memory is that of a creeping numbness and hopelessness gripping me tighter and tighter, and that’s when two older men from the funeral home came for the body. What happened next is the thing that would stick with me the longest, although as I’m looking back right now I can barely remember it in specific detail. It was after they brought the stretcher in to get him that we all found out that the narrow hallway wasn’t wide enough for it to fit, with the next collective realization being that there was no way these older gentlemen could man handle his body the distance from the bedroom to the living room themselves. It’s at this point things start to get hazy. I don’t remember if my uncle and I just realized what we needed to do or if he asked me to help him, but either way we picked him up carried him to the stretcher ourselves. Ultimately I don’t know if it would have made a difference or not as to my outcome psychologically had I not dived head first into the deep end of death. In fact as I write this now I know it wouldn’t have mattered, however as a rule of thumb I would advise against it if possible, though need brooks no delay, as Tolkien quoted through Gandalf.
I can relate to a lot of what you wrote, as I also experienced mental health issues in my family and in myself. I know how challenging it can be to cope with the trauma, the shame, and uncertainty of deep loneliness that come with it. I also know how therapeutic it can be to write about it and to connect with others who get it. I’m a writer myself, which I’m slowly realizing again, in no small part with the help of the words in your book, as well as blog. I think you words helped give me the courage to say this out loud, and for that I’ll be forever in your debt, and that’s one debt I don’t mind paying.
You’re an incredible person, and I’m glad I got to know you better through your book and your blog. Please keep writing and sharing your voice with the world. It inspires me to find my own voice again. If you ever want to talk more or exchange some writing ideas, feel free to message me anytime.
Take care,
Justin
Justin, thank you for sharing your soul. I am honestly so proud of you for publicly writing about your grandfather’s passing. I know personally how cathartic and cleansing it can be. I can only imagine having to carry a body as a teen, but I know it does happen and I’m sure all of your family members greatly appreciated you stepping up to help. I cried as I read the story. I am SO glad to read that you are finding your voice again as a writer. It is a calling. I believe that. As writers, we can use the hardships we’ve been through to help and inspire others. It is also a blessing that I believe is given to us to help us keep our own sanity! Lord knows I’d have lost mine long ago if I hadn’t learned to let some of this stuff out. Many blessings to you, and you can message me anytime also!
~Kelly