I breathe different air

Finding God in the little things...

Moderator: lobo

I breathe different air

Postby lobo on Fri Jan 26, 2007 2:06 pm

I breathe different air
by: me

Surrounded by death,
I reach out for the light
I grab hold of it, and
hang on with all my might.

The devil tries to drown me,
and cause me to despair
But, all his plans will fail,
'cause I breathe different air.

So, Lord as I am tested,
may You find me to be true.
To claim the victory for Heaven
and dwell one day with You.

Do you have loved ones,
waiting on the other side?
Open up your heart,
and come along for the ride.


Where did you say your victory was again, Death?
I still don't see it...

In 1991, my Grandfather (my mom's dad) was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer for the first time. It came as a shock to us. I was about 14 at the time. We used to go over just about every evening after school let out. That experience was one of those major "rock the boat" experiences. He had surgery, with a very interesting experience on the operating table - the doctors and nurses said that he died on the table (at least once, I think) and that he shouldn't have made it. God still had plans for him. He recovered and went on with life, and he started telling others about Jesus. Anyone he met on the bench at the mall...

August 1996, we (my cousin, grandfather, and I) were down on my grandfather's property cutting weeds and clearing it off. My mom, sister, and grandmother came down later, and brought us something to eat, and a milkshake. I remember that he drank the milkshake, and started feeling sick. He went for a test a day or so later. Round two with pancreatic cancer. He was on chemo for awhile, but it wasn't working. The doctor took him off the treatment, and hospice moved him back home. I was taking classes at Fairmont by this time. I remember the week in January 1997, I went to see him for the last time. Before I left that day, he had me give him a hug before I left. A big ice storm came through the area later that week.

January 17, 1997 at 5:40am, the phone rang. A couple minutes later, my dad came in and sat down on the edge of the bed, and told me the news that my Grandfather had passed away a couple hours before. He had looked up, and exhaled, and gone to be with Jesus.

November 1996, the stray cat that came to our house had kittens. A white one with a tail, a white one without a tail, a siamese one without a tail, and a calico.

February 13, 1997 we were in the kitchen (my mom and I). I had come in to ask her something. There was a commotion on the other side of the kitchen. The little siamese had jumped into the dog's side while playing, and the dog bit it on the head and mangled it up. I remember chasing the dog down the steps, and I started hitting the dog. She started growling, and that didn't help matters. The dog was banished to the backyard, and I heard my mom crying and calling from upstairs. I went up and the siamese (Coalbucket) was just flopping on the floor. We called my dad at work, and he came home. We took Coalbucket to the vet for euthanasia.

August 27, 1999, the dog that had bit the cat got to where she couldn't get up. She had to be euthanised. It was one of the few times that I have seen my Dad cry...

The mother cat and the calico are the only ones from that litter left. The white one with a tail (Whitey-tail) developed crystals in his bladder and had to be euthanised a couple years ago. My mom and I took him. The white one without a tail (Stubby-tail) developed lung cancer and had to be euthanised. My mom and I took him, also a couple years ago.

Also during that time, a cat we had had for a long time was underneath the car one day. The cat didn't hear the car, and my mom backed up. It pulled her leg out of socket and she had to be euthanised.

September 7, 1994 - the start of my senior year in high school - we came home from the bus one day, and no one was home. A little bit later, my parents came home with some bad news. My Grandmother (my dad's mom) had got up to go to the bathroom, and collapsed. She was dead before the ambulance got there. A week or so before, she had gone out to my uncle's house on Davisson run, and tried to get in a building. The knob fell off, and she fell down the steps, and broke her arm - not sure what other injuries she had. Her arm wasn't healing straight, so they had to re-break it and set it again. We speculate that that dislodged a blood clot.

There are 7 more pets buried in the yard down by the building. One cat isn't. He was trapped by the city and taken to the humane society. Though he had a collar on, he arrived there on Thursday and was put to sleep on Friday. We found out on Monday. We let him outside one day, and never saw him again. One cat had a heart attack... Then there was the ordeal with Tyson the dog...

It never gets easier, no matter how often it happens. I am glad of that. If it got easier, that means that you have gotten used to it. That doesn't feel right to me...

I like how Garth Brooks put it:

And I, I'm glad I didn't know
The way it all would end,
The way it all would go,
Our lives, are better left to chance
I could have missed the pain
But, I'd have had to miss
The dance.

Except that my life is better left to God.

We can withdraw from all around us, because we are afraid of losing them - we don't want to go through the trauma of losing them - and just exist. Or we can embrace them, and truly live.
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Location: north central West Virginia

Postby tigerguy786 on Fri Jan 26, 2007 10:33 pm

I always appreciate your thoughts.

Something to definitely get us thinking. I can recall many times when I've heard a preacher say something about how he was glad that he didn't know what God had planned for him when he started the walk.

Thanks for the thought as always Lobo
Then I heard the voice of the Lord saying, "Whom shall I send and who will go before us?"
Then said I, "Here am I, send me." Isaiah 6:8
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