At the counter I watch,
I watch as hands move items across strange red eyes that see only white and black.
To whom do these hands belong?
Who cherishes their touch and longs for their presence?
What do these hands cherish and loath?
What treasure lies within the one who works that moment to serve me?
Eyes that could see more meet across this altar of commerce.
Words fly by another from each field of dreams:
“How are you today?”
“Fine. And you?”
Are they words that seek depth – words that plow the soil between two treasures buried in self?
I think not. I know not.
Of course there are times my words become great instruments of digging.
They plow through the air to till the soul of another.
My words – known and named by me as “Truth” – are used to bury deeper
a treasure that could be mine
that could be the worlds
that is the Kingdom of God in another.
Those rare and holy moments where Another
breathes and moves through me
to allow the stranger to become the friend
to allow those who know a Truth different than mine
to be truly heard and deeply loved
seem, oh, so few.
yet they cover me with a joy I could not know
if I grasp the pitiful field that I call me.
Hidden treasure is not cheap.
It costs me, me.
Inspired by Matthew 13:44-46
Hopelessness or Depression
I realize that right up front that I am walking on some very tricky ground here. I know that this week is known as National Suicide Prevention Week – and believe me, I want to do all that I can to help bring awareness and change to this tragic form of death in our society.
However, because of my association with some great people who introduced me to AFSP (The American Foundation for Suicide Prevention) in Parkersburg, WV, I have a very difficult time using the word “suicide” at all.
Taking one’s own life is a very desperate act, usually coming at the end of a battle with depression or hopelessness. I have sometimes said that taking one’s own life in the midst of depression or hopelessness is a final prayer to God to end the suffering.
Sometimes the deaths are very intentional…sometimes very accidental. No matter what the circumstance, when we place the label “suicide” upon these tragic losses of battles with very real diseases and spiritual conditions, we are placing a stigma on both the person who lost their battle and to those who are left behind.
We do not do this with victims of cancer, heart disease, diabetes or any other illness and yet with depression and hopelessness, we do.
I would like to see us change the name of this week, just so we can call it what it truly is. Let’s call it “Preventing Death by Depression and Hopelessness Week” or something else that is more catching. I don’t care. I am just sick of the “S” word and all the baggage and tags it carries with it.
Just some thoughts… would love to read yours as well.
photo credit: Helga Weber via photo pin cc