Left Over Right

My daughter told me
"Left over right, Mom,
That's how to keep your shoes
from untying themselves
while you walk."

Important advice.
I was walking into the lioness's den
And I wasn't sure
if I would survive it
"Left over right,
and you won't trip over
your own laces."
Your own story.

I needed good shoes
to walk into this desert
where I had never gone before.
I went on an errand of mercy
for my children
I thought,
"They must know I am not afraid
to face the one who won.
The one to whom
They could stay connected
to their father
through her."
I would be noble...
and forgiving...

I failed.
                At everything.

Left over right.
She told me how to not trip
over myself.
I thought I listened well enough
But I was falling
                            falling
                                       falling
down.

I have had experiences of heaven and hell.
(The real ones, not these earthly adventures)
But I walked into another hell
And the pain of it.

Why?
Left over right.
Do it and you can stay the course
you are running...
What was mine?
Why was I there? 
Was it for my children?
Or for me? 

Left over, right?

Now that was a new thought to ponder,

My strength to survive almost anything...
(well, I have survived everything so far...
obviously...)
made me blind to the big truth staring me
in the face
The one I did not want to see
The one I refused to believe:
Left over, right?

Yes, left over.
Left behind.
Unwanted.
Unnecessary for the plan anymore.
Baggage.
Left over.
Right.

That hurt.
A bunch.
But only for a little while.

Dealing with the words of friends and family
"Get over it."
"Stop thinking about yourself."
                                                "But I have to think about me,
No one else does."

And there is was.
The truth.

I don't get to win ever battle.
Sometimes I lose the war.
And a great warrior
Will get ANGRY about losing
But a great warrior
is never defeated.

Here in the desert,
each thing I thought belonged to me
I have handed over
or God has taken away.

Here in the desert,
in each grain of sand,
there is a mirror
showing me
an aspect of myself.
Some good.
Some bad.
Some to keep.
Some to throw away.

In this tiny grain
I hold a truth
the messenger:
my angry daughter
walking in her own desert right now.
"Left over right."

She said,
"Left over right
and you won't trip anymore
when you walk
or run."
She did not say:
"Left over, right?"

Sometimes we need a comma
Sometimes we don't
But we must stay still enough
Stop running to
Or running away
Long enough
to know the difference.


Love, Cindy
March 2, 2013