First the Natural, Then the Spiritual ~ Or So I've Heard...

Before the alarm went off this morning, I was in that place between sleep and wake. In that state of half-way, I remembered my icy drive last January from Denver to One Fine Man. The dream thoughts nagged me and my teacher mind said, "first the natural and then the spiritual."

And I sighed and covered my face. No more seasons of pain and puzzle pieces for awhile please. Just let me be. But YOU know best.

This morning after One Fine Man hugged and kissed me and walked out the door, I searched for this post. The "natural" post. I think I must now be living the "spiritual."

If you have any interest in reading the full post from January 13, 2009, it's here. Almost a year to the date...and my heart is pounding because the "ride" is frightening and the "trip" is a nightmare.

Partial repost from 1/13/09 ~

"My day began at 4:45 a.m. After two flights and a layover, I arrived in Denver. I picked up my rental car and the most frightening ride of my life began. The first half hour was not bad. The rest of the trip was a nightmare.

The winds were so high in the mountain passes I thought at any moment my vehicle would be blown over the divider to plunge how far - I had no clue. Later I heard the winds were gusting in excess of 85 - 100 mph. Then it began to snow. I have lived in Florida for 19 years. Enough said. White knuckling the steering wheel, I prayed. I sang. I cried. I told myself to focus, focus, focus. I thought about pulling over for a while but the idea of driving the rest of the way in the dark was scary, too. Then there were the signs:

Gusty winds, Avalanche, Falling rocks, Icy roads.

Finally, I arrived at the hospital. I sat in the car a few minutes thanking God I had made it.When I got to the 2nd floor and stopped at the nurses desk, several of the staff on duty looked at me, their mouths open. “You drove in this?” they asked. One nurse hugged me and asked if I was all right. With her kindness, I could only nod, my tears threatening to spill."

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I found this picture on an old blog post today. At times, Andrew and I played Scrabble a lot. Sometimes we could only come up with 3 and 4 letter words. Some days we would keep the board up for hours and work a little at a time. "I went. It's your turn, Mom." I miss my Scrabble buddy. I miss my boy. One more morning, one day closer.