(No Title)

Six months have passed, they say, and for some of us, it's almost true. But for others, others, the mere passage of time is no longer the marker of a day well-spent or a life fully embraced. Does a month crossed off on the calendar move them any closer to a new ending or any further from a horrible beginning? One young wife and mother, Lauren, spent the first month of these six in a medically induced coma, in order to survive the pain of the rest of her life. Burns cover eighty-six percent of her body. She is missing most of an ear and parts of her hands, and doesn't look like the girl Greg married, unless he's looking deep in her eyes. He looks at all of her, though, loves all of her. Greg read her Robert Burns in those early days, and does still, not so she'll remember, but so she'll believe. "My love is like a red, red rose," he says, as he gazes upon his beloved. With tears streaming down her scarred face, she recites her love back to him wordlessly, breathlessly. She dreamed of her husband and baby boy that first faraway month, longed for them, and decided to live for them. A decision she'd already made every day until Day One, in every place before Ground Zero. How could she change her mind now? Her husband has compiled a book of his email communications with all her many friends over the course of these six months. It is called "Love, Greg and Lauren." Lauren cannot read it yet, may never be able to. All of her strength must be focused on moving forward, or there will be no movement at all. She cannot risk a backward glance. Don't look back, Lauren. Not yet. Six months have passed, they say. And for some of us, it must be true.

Posted by Katy on 03/12/02 at 08:32 AM

Fallible Comments...

Yes, Lisa. Sometimes I think God spares us the capacity for wrapping our minds around certain things. And also perhaps He prevents certain things from wrapping themselves around our minds, or our souls. His mercy really is new every morning.
Posted by Katy on 12/31/69 at 12:00 PM
I just cannot wrap my mind around this...even six months after. Though I knew noone who died or survived this ugly scar on our history, I feel deeply for those who have lost so much...time, friends, family, health, and of course, life. God help us learn from this horror something...anything good.
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Posted by lisa on 12/31/69 at 12:00 PM

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Personal blog of christian writer & fallible mom Katy McKenna Raymond in Kansas City, Missouri Katy is represented by Greg Johnson at WordServe Literary Read more Katy at LateBoomer.net Follow Katy on Twitter Follow Katy on Facebook 123 Recent Posts Try Becoming Brenda Starr Off Beat Scattered That’s It So I’ve Finally Signed With An Agent. Now What? The Spoon Sciatica Sweetheart A Woman’s Train of Thought Has No Caboose However much we own, we are all still living on borrowed time After all, when restaurants shrink portions, they don’t shrink prices. As with everything in life, balance is key. Slow down, you move too fast… Yeah, I know. I have issues. Search Advanced Search Syndicate Login E me at katy @ ngenius.com	(No Title) Six months have passed, they say, and for some of us, it's almost true. But for others, others, the mere passage of time is no longer the marker of a day well-spent or a life fully embraced. Does a month crossed off on the calendar move them any closer to a new ending or any further from a horrible beginning? One young wife and mother, Lauren, spent the first month of these six in a medically induced coma, in order to survive the pain of the rest of her life. Burns cover eighty-six percent of her body. She is missing most of an ear and parts of her hands, and doesn't look like the girl Greg married, unless he's looking deep in her eyes. He looks at all of her, though, loves all of her. Greg read her Robert Burns in those early days, and does still, not so she'll remember, but so she'll believe. "My love is like a red, red rose," he says, as he gazes upon his beloved. With tears streaming down her scarred face, she recites her love back to him wordlessly, breathlessly. She dreamed of her husband and baby boy that first faraway month, longed for them, and decided to live for them. A decision she'd already made every day until Day One, in every place before Ground Zero. How could she change her mind now? Her husband has compiled a book of his email communications with all her many friends over the course of these six months. It is called "Love, Greg and Lauren." Lauren cannot read it yet, may never be able to. All of her strength must be focused on moving forward, or there will be no movement at all. She cannot risk a backward glance. Don't look back, Lauren. Not yet. Six months have passed, they say. And for some of us, it must be true. Posted by Katy on 03/12/02 at 08:32 AM Fallible Comments... Yes, Lisa. Sometimes I think God spares us the capacity for wrapping our minds around certain things. And also perhaps He prevents certain things from wrapping themselves around our minds, or our souls. His mercy really is new every morning. Posted by Katy on 12/31/69 at 12:00 PM I just cannot wrap my mind around this...even six months after. Though I knew noone who died or survived this ugly scar on our history, I feel deeply for those who have lost so much...time, friends, family, health, and of course, life. God help us learn from this horror something...anything good. ----- Posted by lisa on 12/31/69 at 12:00 PM Page 1 of 1 pages Commenting is not available in this weblog entry. Next entry: (No Title) Previous entry: (No Title) << Back to main


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Personal blog of christianwriter & fallible momKaty McKenna Raymondin Kansas City, Missouri

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Personal blog of christian
writer & fallible mom
Katy McKenna Raymond
in Kansas City, Missouri