1347. There is a loneliness in this world so great that you can see it in the slow movement of the hands of a clock. ~Charles Bukowski

Of pain you could wish only
one thing: that it would stop.
Nothing in the world is so
bad as physical pain.
In the face of pain there are no heroes.
~George Orwell

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This is not a plea for sympathy. Nor is it a cry for help, nor a need for response, nor an abandonment of hope for better days. Instead it is a bid for understanding of a place where some have never been, at least not for very long, a place that has to be believed to be felt because chronic pain comes with a terrible price and aching loneliness. Because I’ve lost another whole day of my life to the chronic pain that has dogged my days since I was 25 years old, I’ve been struggling to cope and understand as well as to find the strength to endure both the pain and the aloneness of it. In doing so I remembered that several of my followers fight the same battle every day of their lives too. And so tonight I wanted to try to explain the double-edged sword of pain in hopes that readers would try to understand how hard a battle it is. As Orwell, said there are no heroes, unless they be the ones whose compassion encourages a willingness to believe and stand by the sufferer’s side. Below is an excerpted, edited, and adapted article written by Dr. David Biro whose words are the best I’ve found so far in describing what the battle of chronic pain is truly like.

“Part of what makes pain ‘painful’ is its privacy and unsharability, the feeling of aloneness. “Nothing is quite so isolating,” writes Robert Murphy ‘as the knowledge that when one hurts, nobody else feels the pain…’ This under-appreciated feature (to an outsider, that is) is especially true for pain that persists, chronic versus acute pain. When one breaks a bone, the pain can be excruciating and isolating for hours or days, but once it lets up, one can return to the intrinsically social being that defines our species. When the pain goes on for months or years, it becomes more and more difficult to reintegrate oneself into a world that has no idea what a long-term sufferer has been experiencing. That kind of pain causes a rupture because it inverts normal perspective. Instead of reaching out to other people in work or play, people with chronic pain turn inward and become self protective which is an instinctive, understandable response. Something is wrong inside and so they must attend and focus on the threat and make sure it doesn’t get any worse. But while the pain inside looms large for the person experiencing it, it is often invisible to the person viewing it from the outside be it a a doctor, a sibling, a spouse, or a friend. Even when they see something wrong on the surface of the body, a bleeding wound for example, they don’t ‘see’ the pain, which in their mind may or may not be as severe as the person claims. And when there is nothing to see on the surface, in the case of migraine or neuropathic pain, their doubt only increases. Even if the outsider believes the sufferer, it is difficult for him/her to imagine what it’s like or how severe it is (how easily the pain-free forget past pains); or at times, the outsider simply doesn’t want to hear about the pain over and over again because what’s extremely important to the victim is not so important to the observer. Thus when one combines a sufferer who intensely feels his pain with an outsider who can’t see or feel it at all, the result is a widening of the normal barrier that exists between people. And as a result a great wall suddenly springs up even though the sufferer may be surrounded by the people he/she loves most in the world. That’s when the sufferer might as well be on another planet where his/her screams cannot be heard nor the tears seen nor the anguish felt. For an outsider is simply incapable of having any idea of what’s happening on the sufferer’s side of the wall, a place where the utter aloneness can hurt as much as the physical pain itself.”

“Yet if I speak, my pain is not relieved; and if I refrain, it does not go away.” ~Job 16:6  ✝

**Image via Pinterest

654. The North wind did blow and now we have some sleet and snow, so what then will poor robin do, poor thing? ~Edited and adapted line from an old Nursery Rhyme

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Mistress Mary quite contrary,
Why doesn’t your garden grow?
Is it because the sleet and snow
Have left the pretty maids unduly cold?
~Adapted verse from 
an old Nursery Rhyme

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Yesterday an itsy bitsy spider climbed up the garden spout, but it wasn’t long before the rain came down and washed the spunky little spider out.

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Then this morning with a hickory dickory dock, the clock struck early on, and the mouse ran out to find that the temps had, as they predicted, dropped below freezing and would stay that way all the livelong day.  So with a hey diddle, diddle, the cat and the fiddle began to shed a host of woebegone tears and the dog refused to laugh when the spoon slid silently away on its ice-laden dish.

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Undaunted by such things, however, Humpty Dumpty set out to sit upon the garden wall, but a slip here and a slide there whilst on the way convinced him not to take a chance for he could plainly see that all the king’s horses and all the king’s men wouldn’t be able to put him or the frost covered flowers he might land upon back together again. Now as the day draws to an end, Polly has put the kettle on so that all can have a spot of tea and while safe and warm inside dream of better days.

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He will yet fill your mouth with laughter and your lips with shouts of joy. ~Job 8:21   ✝

**Iimages via Pinterest

316. On the first warm day of spring I dig my fingers deep into the soft earth. I can feel its energy and my spirits soar. ~Helen Hayes

…the garden is not only a place
to make things grow and
to display the beautiful flowers of the earth,
but a place that should accord
with various moods of its admirers.
It should be a place
in which to hold light banter,
a place to laugh, and, besides
should have a hidden corner in which to weep.
~Alice Lounsberry

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Nor is the fragrant garden ever wholly our own…
Over hedge and wall,
and often far down the highway,
it sends a greeting
not alone to us who have toiled for it,
but to the passing stranger,
the blind beggar,
the child skipping to school,
the tired woman on her way to work,
the rich man,
the careless youth.
~Louise Beebe Wilder

Thank you, Jesus, that you save, you heal, you restore, and you reveal Your Father’s heart to us!

The Lord announces the word, and the women who proclaim it are a mighty throng: Psalm 68:11 ✝

**Photo via Pinterest

256. The best place to seek God is in a garden. You can dig for Him there. ~George Bernard Shaw

Flower in the crannied wall,
I pluck you out of the crannies.
I hold you here root and all, in my hand flower–
but if I could understand what you are
root and all, and all in all,
I should know what God and man is!
~Alfred Lord Tennyson

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Whenever I read Tennyson’s poem or see a garden wall I think of Burnett’s novel, THE SECRET GARDEN, and then I find myself trying to imagine what Tennyson’s crannied wall and the garden walls at Misselthwaite Manor looked like.  I’ve read that walled growing spaces date back to the earliest of Persian gardens and that their function, especially in the northern temperate zones, was to shelter a garden from frost and wind.  Since purportedly the sheltering walls raised the ambient temperature inside a garden by several degrees, I’m guessing they were made of heavy stones.  Although the garden walls in Tennyson’s poem and Hodgson’s novel no doubt were constructed similarly and to serve the same purpose, the practicality of such, is not the point of the two tales.  The two literary pieces have to do with the impact of encountering the Ancient of Days or the contemplation of His mystery that often takes place within a garden’s walls.  Every garden in a very real sense is a piece of Eden, and in Eden man inevitably encountered Him by whose Hands both he and it were made.  As Tennyson grasped the entirety of a little flower in his hand, he voiced a firm belief that comprehending its mystery would lead to an unraveling of the ultimate conundrum, man and God.  And in THE SECRET GARDEN the lives of two children were resurrected and subsequently infused with that same mysterious “stuff of life” after holy “place” and “elemental” grace had had their way with them.

And the Lord God planted a garden in Eden, in the east; that there he put man whom he had formed…They heard the sound of the Lord God walking in the garden at the time of the evening breeze…  ~Genesis 2:8 and Genesis 3:8a  ✝