Tuesday, April 23, 2019


I was sitting in a parking lot when I heard it. It wasn't the first time. It won't be the last. Sometimes it's even my fault!

A car alarm blaring in the not too far distance. Loud. Annoying. Continuous....until the owner pushes the right button and shuts off the annoying blare. I'm sure when car alarms were first produced they served the purpose intended. The alarm is aimed to protect your car from being stolen. Occasionally helpful as a personal way to find the vehicle if a person is not good at remembering where the car is parked. (eh hem)


Since car alarms are now just part of the way we do our daily business, the alarm seems to be mainly ignored by anyone else around the car. If the noise continues long enough, someone might mention it to a nearby business to see if the owner can be located. Overall though? Ignored.

I went to some Easter productions over the weekend. The Good Friday service was worship music interspersed with the life and death of Jesus those last days. The thing that hit me the most? A steady heart beat. The slowed heart beat with labored breathing. The heart beat. Stopped. Not like you would hear in a hospital, hooked to a monitor, an alarm might trip, flat line, a steady beep....until the machine is turned off.

This time? No hospital. No monitor. The heart beat. HIS h e a r t  b e a t  just....stopped.

I didn't know how alarming that would be for me as it brought me back to the living room and the final days of our dad the year before. He had fought Melanoma cancer 4 times. This time he was losing. It took almost a month in all for him to let go. The day after mom's 75th birthday. 52+ years married. 5 kids. 9 grand kids. 1 great grandson. That day the Hospice nurse left saying it probably wouldn't be long. A few hours later, I checked for a heart beat with a stethoscope I am not qualified to use. I expected to hear that steady, but slowing thump thump. There was nothing.

I had not had anyone THIS close to me die. I had heard the alarms of others as they shared their stories of grief in the classes I had attended knowing what was coming for our family. I had seen the blips of posts on FB and obituaries as others lost loved ones. I could ignore and be rather blissfully unaware....until that day.


The other Easter production showed creation, Adam and Eve (BEEP), Noah (BEEP BEEP) , Abraham, Joseph, Moses (LET MY PEOPLE GO BEEP BEEP BEEEEP).


Some of the miracles portrayed. (BEEP BEEP BEEP) Palm Sunday where the people cheered for their King that was the King they needed, but not the King they wanted. Jealous leaders that were claiming to teach about God, but didn't know God. Supper with friends the disciples. Betrayed. Arrested. Falsely accused. Whipped. Beaten. Crucified. The slowed heart beat with labored breathing. IT IS FINISHED.

Put in a tomb. A rolled away stone. A glorious morning. Tell the story. Then.

Fast forward to now. The alarms are sounding. Do we hear? Do we ignore? Do we tell others? Do we just quiet the alarm and go on about our day? Do we go to church, sing a song, join a Bible study, listen to Christian radio?

Do we write a blog?


Ephesians 1:17 (NIV) I keep asking that the God of our Lord Jesus Christ, the glorious Father, may give you the Spirit of wisdom and revelation, so that you may know him better.

Mark 16:6(NIV) “Don’t be alarmed,” he said. “You are looking for Jesus the Nazarene,who was crucified. He has risen! He is not here. See the place where they laid him.

Saturday, January 26, 2019

The Daily Mental Walk of Shame

I wrote this for a short story contest. I had been kicking the idea around in my head. Not necessarily a short story format, but it gave me a deadline. Honestly? I need deadlines. I can procrastinate something fierce without one....even with deadlines too often I wait until the last minute....or close to it.

So, I didn't win. However, in the long run, I'm ok with that. If I had, I couldn't use it for a year. I'm hoping it will help others to read it as much as it helped me to write it. It is a bit more non-fiction than I would probably admit most days.

The Daily Mental Walk of Shame

My name is Cera. Cera Bellum. My age doesn't really matter. Overall, it doesn't. By most people's standards, I am pretty smart. At least I am usually. On the days when the brain fog is not quite so foggy, I can seem quite intelligent. 

Every day starts out pretty much the same. I wake up. Usually much later than I planned on, and after hitting snooze at least one time more than I should. Should. It's like could and would. I really don't like those words. They make me feel guilty. It's early yet. Too early for guilt. Moving on. 

It has been awhile since I jumped right out of bed ready to take on the world in the Land of Overwhelm.

When I make it out of bed, sometimes even before I'm out of bed, I mentally climb a ladder. The ladder leads to the platform that will begin the daily walk across to the other platform known as the end of the day. The other platform that signifies the end of one day blurring into the next. The platform that leads back to a bed and insomnia's version of sleep. 

Sometime during that walk there will be the dip into the prescription bottle that makes the tightrope connecting the platforms not quite as narrow. More like a bridge. My time has become measured by the filling of the med boxes from the bottles: 2 fills of 2 boxes and it is time for more refills and another month has passed. I didn't even always need meds. Now? Meds help. Most days. Most. Days. I also found out it is much easier to talk to a doctor about other family member's prescriptions than my own.

Some days, the better days, the walk can start on an almost wider  bridge. However, sometimes the space narrows to a tightrope as the day goes on. Then the real balancing act begins.

Some days the ladder leads to a roller coaster with ups and downs and loopy loops. The goal is to not have so many downs. I don't like roller coasters, especially the big drop at the beginning to allow for picking up the speed.

A wide walkway is better as I do not walk alone. I have "friends" traveling along with me. I would not have always called them friends. Sometimes I still don't. I don't know what else to call them either. Maybe just by their names. 

Dee Pression  and Ann Xiety

Dee and Ann each hang on to a hand as I make the daily crossing. Some days are easier than others.

On a not so easy day, Dee tries to whisper slowly droning in my ear even before we are fully awake. "You don't really feel like getting out of bed today do you?" "Shower? Why? Too much work!"  “These PJs are comfy! Why get dressed?”

Ann says in a rushed, panicked voice, “There will be people out there! They will have expectations and you might have to answer the phone, Cera! You hate answering the phone. You would rather text. Here. Don't forget your smartphone, dummy. Oh and by the way there's a new game app you should download so you can avoid your fear of roller coasters. Hey, look a cat video!”

Along the daily walk, sometimes we meet others that also know Dee and Ann. We covertly nod as we pass, but we do not talk. Besides not everyone can see Dee and Ann like they would a broken leg or glasses. They just think we do not try hard enough or we are lazy. How hard is it to get out of bed and shower?!?! 

We see cutesy or scary ads and social media posts that state “reach out for help”. “You are not alone.” “Mental illness can become mental wellness.”

Dee and Ann whisper loudly past those with taunts of “You don't really want us to leave do you? People would see the real you! What if they don't like you? You know not everybody even believes in us. Do you see what happens to some of those celebrity people when it is a mental illness and not physical? That could happen to you.”

So, I hold it in and somewhat together another day. Not reaching out. Feeling alone. Dealing with mental issues people do not always acknowledge. Mental issues that I don't always acknowledge.

Dee, Ann and I near the platform at the other end of the tightrope as another day closes.

There I introduce Dee and Ann to some new friends waiting there for us: Hope and Faith. Maybe those meds, ads and social media posts do work.

Tomorrow's walk.....and all those to come will be better. At least mostly, right?

Thursday, April 26, 2018

Missing You

My brain is not comprehending
how you were HERE
and now you're not.

My brain is feeling overwhelmed
with emotions
and memories.

My body is remembering
sitting next to you
holding your hand.

My spirit feels tired
until I remember
there is more than this
than missing you
than trying not to think
too much
not to feel
too much.

My soul can think
while my mind grapples
the past and the present
with small bits of the future.

The grief
I've shoved in a place
deep inside my mind
until I think
I'm ready
to deal with it
on my terms.

Your smile
your laugh
your heart
your YOU
Never forgotten.


It's been over a month since our dad lost his cancer battle. I don't know what I THOUGHT it would be like. I had time to prepare. I thought I was. I thought I did. It is not like what I thought. I have kept myself busy with some things that were really important and NEEDED to be done sooner than later. I have kept myself busy with stuff that just fills time. So I don't have to think or feel. I go through motions.

Missing You isn't just about grief. It is about life changes that have come up at a time I really don't need more to deal with. Time to make decisions about things I would rather not decide. Not now. Maybe not ever.

Following the thought of "God doesn't give you more than you can handle", I think God and my dad have more faith in my abilities than I do.

Revelation 21:4 (NIV) He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.”

Wednesday, April 18, 2018

Papers and Needles

Most of the time, our jobs are more than something we do just to earn a paycheck. Sometimes we plan a career. Sometimes a career seems to fall in our lap. Sometimes we love it. Sometimes we are just passing time and waiting until a better opportunity comes along. People talk about passion. Sometimes what we are passionate about is not something that seems to be something we can make a living at. Sometimes we learn to love what we do. Sometimes not.

What a blessing that each of us has different talents. Can you imagine being forced into an occupation that maybe you do not have a talent for....or maybe even not have the stomach to do? The title Papers and Needles refers to my sister and I.

I am the papers. Bookkeeping, accounting, taxes, and numbers. Those are things I can handle. Writing when I was told to do it in school was not rewarding. Now I enjoy it. Even as we become more of a paperless society, I am more of a hands off type of person.

My sister is the needles. She is a nurse. Needles, blood, vitals and patients. Those are all things she can handle with ease. Patient care, informing families, and charting are all things she runs into on a normal night. She has planned her schooling and career around her family which I greatly admire. She is definitely hands on.

Communication and customer service are skills that are assets on any job. There are times that we are called to use (or fake our way through) skills we didn't even know we possessed. However, when given a choice, we usually know what we are best at and what type of jobs we feel we are best fitted for.

Often, if we are parents, we may be at home taking care of the littles, or in addition to our paid jobs. Parenting involves skills that can incorporate papers, needles, counseling and any other of a wide variety of skills we seem to learn along the way. Sometimes we may need to rely on “experts” just like on any other job. Sometimes we are learning skills that will help us help others along their journey or just be able to help someone by saying “me too”.

Wherever you are in your job search or career, I pray that you get to use your skills and talents to encourage yourself and others and to make a life while making a living.

Romans 12:6-8 (NIV) We have different gifts, according to the grace given to each of us. If your gift is prophesying, then prophesy in accordance with your faith;  if it is serving, then serve; if it is teaching, then teach; if it is to encourage, then give encouragement; if it is giving, then give generously; if it is to lead,  do it diligently; if it is to show mercy, do it cheerfully.

Thursday, April 05, 2018

Who is that man?

I meant to write this AT Easter, but life stayed busy. The fog of grief is not easy to get out from under. Planning a funeral is like planning a big party, but the guest of honor doesn't attend. It is a sad occasion with glimpses of laughter clouded by tears. There is paperwork. SO much paperwork. And decisions. Some minor. Some major. Not all can wait until the fog clears. We move slowly through dealing with life without dad, and the world spins on while it feels like a bomb dropped in our family.

I kept thinking what else is there to be said at/about Easter? SO many things have already been said/written. BUT amazingly enough when glancing back there is a link for me this year that I have not felt before. An innocent question recently that reminded me of long ago.

"Who is that man?" asked a 5 year old at our dad's visitation. I had wondered if it would be too overwhelming for the grand kids and other children that would come to see us. While death is a part of life, it is not one that is easy for us as grown ups to process let alone share with children that have questions we may not even be ready to answer for ourselves.

I thought he was looking at my brother so I started to explain that man was my brother like he had his brother along.

"No," he said. "Who is that man lying in the box by the flag?" He meant our dad. I explained it was our dad's body, but he wasn't there anymore. I don't like to say sleeping because that seems like it would make kids scared to go to sleep.

We knew dad's life journey was coming to an end. He had battled melanoma cancer that returned more times than he could fight. We had some time to process at least a bit before that day. While it was painful for us as his children to start grieving. We, as parents, were also worried about how our kids would deal with losing "Grandpa Bob".

I started to explain death to them as a butterfly. The caterpillar goes into that cocoon. When it comes out it is not the same. It breaks out of the cocoon and it is set free!

Each of us are body, mind and spirit. Our spirit lives in our body, but when it is time, we leave this body behind and we are set free!

A long time ago, many people were asking that same question: "Who is that man?"

He was a carpenter's son, he understood things that teachers couldn't explain, he gathered a group of disciples around him, he traveled around doing miracles, healing people, talking about His father, and telling stories that had a deeper meaning. People started to think He was the king they had been waiting for. They welcomed him to town by waving palm branches and saying "Hosanna!"

A group of religious leaders were asking the same question: "Who is that man?" He says he is the son of God. That he can tear down the temple and rebuild it in 3 days. He is getting too powerful. We must stop him! They found a way to get Jesus out of the way. They took him to higher ups that found him not guilty.

They wanted death by crucifixion even if it meant letting someone worse go. The same people that welcomed Jesus to their town with a parade were now shouting "Crucify him!" and they did. They hung a sign over his head to tell the world who he was: Jesus, King of the Jews.

He was later placed in a tomb with a large stone and guards in front of it. On the 3rd day, when some of his friends came, they were met by an angel: He is not here; he has risen, just as he said. Come and see the place where he lay. (Matthew 28:6 NIV)

"Who is that man?" JESUS He was and is who He claims to be.

This year, the promise of eternal life became more obvious for our family.

It is BECAUSE Jesus died, that we are changed, we can have everlasting life and we are set free.