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Playing the Cards You’re Dealt

Playing the Cards You’re Dealt

This video (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hvECZ_ZXGqs) was amazing. Watching this young woman be given four random notes on index cards and from those notes play an extraordinary piece of improvised musing was marvelous. It makes me wonder about the mystery of the human brain and soul, and its capability for good and bad, right and wrong, positive and negative impact on this world.

While watching I also reflected on the phrase; “playing the cards you’re dealt.” The saying comes from the card game of poker but is applicable to all of life. Life is the dealer and the “cards we’re dealt” or what, where, who, we’re born to and in goes a long way in determining about what our life becomes. How we play those cards, choose to live our life is the way we play our hand. Some that seem to born with all the advantages either use or lose their blessings. While others come into the world with the cards stacked against them turn their lives into miracles.

It’s not the hand you’re dealt but how you play the hand that counts.

For more posts, reflections, poems, and other writings, please visit:
http://www.thewannabesaint.com

blessings,
@BrianLoging (Twitter)

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Words

Words

Today I had the privilege and duty to be a part of the memorial service for my father. It’s been surreal the last few days. So many errands to run, items to check off on a list, places to go, people to see. There’s been a sense of urgency, a nervous energy, a controlled chaos, riding a wave of sorrow and speed.  Because of the hectic pace of the last several days, I stood on the stage behind the pulpit at the service this afternoon with no notes, and no structure to the stories and experiences I wanted to share.

Words, they’ve flooded my mind and soul since Dad passed. Words from family and friends who care and are sorry for our loss. Words that go into an obituary, on a card for flowers, in a service program and used in phone calls, emails, and texts. So many words used to describe the love a family has for one who is, was, the central fixed, point.

Now, standing behind the pulpit at the memorial service today, I had no notes, no words written, no solid ideas, memories swarming in my head but none coming in for a landing. How do you choose the right words to convey the meaning of a life which impacted many people?  In the pantheon of phrases, how do you pick out those which will express the purpose of a life lived well?

A deep breath, a small prayer, and … share my heart, open my lips, loosen my tongue and let the words come. No, they will not be adequate. No, they will not be perfect. Yes, there will be second-guessing and memories that are forgotten to be shared.

Words. They are not, and cannot contain the heart’s cry of longing and loneliness or succinctly express the fondness, the love, the good of being apart from a person you love. This is okay. Living, being, existing, is more than words, deeper than condolences, greater than expressions of sympathy and sadness.

Living should be beyond our ability to communicate it easily if it is done well.

blessings,
@BrianLoging (Twitter)
thewannabesaint.com

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