ALL IS NOT LOST
The OCD world that I stumble through was ripped to shreds earlier this week, but I have nobody to blame but my own darn self… All of us experience loss and none of us ever quite get used to it. We fight tooth and nail to hang onto everyone and everything, but the losses come, whether we want them to or not… but all is not lost.
Some time after the initial loss and nausea I remembered, back about eight years ago or so, the hollow feeling in the pit of my gut as I searched the sparse parking lot frantically, not knowing that my truck was already well on its way to Mexico.
The churning in a belly boils like poison from the noxious flame of violation when something we love or cherish is replaced by loss…
Not only had my truck been stolen, but all the valuables inside it. Funny how when anything is taken from us, it’s always the things inside them that we miss the most… by a long shot.
I pondered my latest loss. Devastation and disbelief smothered me… for a time. Life, time, and God have a way of altering a perspective.
My briefcase was a bit tattered from nearly daily use. It wasn’t a thing of beauty and one couldn’t tell what might be inside it just by looking at it. In a hurry, I left my briefcase sitting on the
image courtesy of simplejustice.us
Whoever walked out with it must have been sorely disappointed to find a few loose coins mixed with the clutter at the bottom of the case. An Apple computer charger wouldn’t get them much either. Nor would a WiFi device from Verizon that would be useless without the password that still sits in my wallet that never leaves my front pocket… a lesson learned from a previous loss…
The three yellow legal pads with my scribbling inside would mean even less to the fortune seekers. To extinguish the OCD fire breathing dragon within, I’m always about two or three months ahead on my blog posts… but not anymore…
One of the three yellow pads carried the words to my latest manuscript… about four months worth of work.
After a couple days of feeling sorry for myself for being a cone head, I thought of greater losses. I thought about how it felt and still feels to lose my dad… He was just another man to the world. Like my tired briefcase; you couldn’t tell at a glance what my dad carried inside himself.
God was inside my dad. That’s what made him humble… and no words I ever pen or type can measure up to the beauty that Lived inside my dad, which was God Himself.
I wish I had my words back… but that loss in the grand scheme of things means little… compared to the wisdom gained in the lesson that is priceless.
So, as they say, “All is not lost”.
Sunday, April 10, 2016 @ 5:06 pm
You’re making me miss my dad, too. A priceless gift to me though for 47 years.
Oh, how I hate to lose things but even worse to have them stolen. I’m so sorry for your months of writing gone. That one hurts the most to hear! My purse was stolen a year ago from my car. Miraculously, a friend found both her purse and mine in a dumpster with everything but the cash still in it! I’m still amazed. Maybe your stuff will come home to you somehow? If not literally, may God provide you with fresh inspiration to replace what you had already invested in words.
Sunday, April 10, 2016 @ 5:20 pm
So sorry to hear this, Floyd. It may not have meant much to the person who took it, but those words on that yellow tablet mean a lot to you and to your readers. Maybe it will speak to the heart of the perpetrator!
Sunday, April 10, 2016 @ 5:48 pm
Oh, Floyd, I’m so sorry for the loss of your blog posts and manuscript, but most of all, the loss of your father. Through your posts I’ve come to think of him as a wonderful man and know you miss him terribly. The great thing is, you’ll be with him for eternity, and I’ll get to meet him someday too. I pray our Father will now give you new words, even better than the ones that were stolen. I started checking a new manuscript for Chris today, and I can’t imagine how sad he would be if he lost all those words and hours of writing and rewriting.
Sunday, April 10, 2016 @ 8:33 pm
Oh no, all is not lost, indeed Floyd. This is so serendipitous, b/c I had just told Sheridan how once, when I had to fire a woman, she stole what she knew would be most valuable to me–my words. I had files filled with articles and reports written by me that represented many hours and much research. She knew that if she stole these things, she would be stealing a part of me–even my heart (on those human interest articles). But you mention a far greater loss than material possessions or even intellectual ones, like words (and I’m so sorry yours were gone, b/c you write so well!)….but your dad. Oh, your dad. He sounds like such a wonderful person, and the one reason I can imagine how much you miss him, is b/c of how much I miss my father. It’s still hard to write about him in terms of loss. Sometimes (often, even) I can’t really believe he is gone. And this quote is one of the most profound things you’ve written, Floyd: Funny how when anything is taken from us, it’s always the things inside them that we miss the most… Isn’t that the truth? We miss their warmth, laughter, wisdom, and kindness. You just can’t put a price on that.
Thanks so much for sharing!
Love
Lynn
Sunday, April 10, 2016 @ 11:40 pm
Like you, I have lost many personal belongings…far too many times to remember.
But the greatest loss were my parents.
Monday, April 11, 2016 @ 7:49 am
Interesting how losing something can bring our lives and values into greater perspective. Yesterday I was thinking of how the things we hold onto can hold us back from what’s truly important.
Like you, my dad was priceless. His value to me far greater than I could ever put into words. Yet his value to God is even greater than I can comprehend.
Monday, April 11, 2016 @ 12:00 pm
Even though I know this hurt, I would have loved to have been a little birdie when they opened your briefcase and found nothing of value to them. All things can be replaced (even those written words), but eternal things cannot be. Good thoughts my friend.
Monday, April 11, 2016 @ 3:38 pm
Oh, Floyd, four months of work, I’m truly sorry. I don’t do much writing long-hand anymore, but even so, I have my stuff backed up in three places. The years have taught me to lessen my attachment to worldly things. Like you, my greatest losses have been those I love. Great post.
Monday, April 11, 2016 @ 4:58 pm
To loose an old friend, even if it is your briefcase, is devastating. There goes someone with an evil heart taking something that is not theirs. Four months of hand written words – now that is a GREAT loss. A computer crash can be hurtful, but this is worse. Robert once place his favorite Bible on top of the car while we loaded things for church. Then we drove off and of course the Bible must have been thrown in the ditch as we turned corners. Thank you Floyd for sharing your true story with us here at Tell me a Story.
Monday, April 11, 2016 @ 9:44 pm
Oh, Floyd! This just hurt me to the core. I am SO sorry for this awful loss. I can only imagine how terrible this has felt, and having lost both of my parents, I can agree with you that this sort of thing is not nearly as deep as the loss of our parents, but still, this really hurt you, and you have, once again, lost something very precious. Your writing is such a big part of you and your life…you pour your very soul into it, and you hold nothing back. To have that part of you ripped away must have been so hard to bear. You know, it occurred to me that GOD knows where that briefcase is. His eye is on it at this very moment. So, I feel impressed to pray for you now…for God to send this possession home to you…however He has to do this, that it will get back into your hands, safe and sound, and all IN TACT, too. He can do it. There is nothing too hard for our God. Praying now, brother. God bless you.
Tuesday, April 12, 2016 @ 12:58 am
Well, you did it again, Floyd….tears….
There is no greater tribute to a parent than for a child to say: “God was inside my dad. That’s what made him humble… and no words I ever pen or type can measure up to the beauty that Lived inside my dad, which was God Himself.”
I look forward to meeting him one day.
Tuesday, April 12, 2016 @ 5:36 pm
Your words are like sweet oil to my heart brother. Yesterday I was in Illinois and today I sit in southern California typing this. It rain terribly the day of Mom’s funeral, I felt like the devil wanted me to major on it too. Thank God as we got into our little celebration for my Mom, many got up and shared a funny story about her. It’s good to write about loss I am learning, it brings the needed perspective to the fore front of our minds. It puts grief in a room that can be entered into when needed. I remember a time before we went to Bolivia we had our things all packed sitting outside our door at the apartment behind our church. Some thoughtless boys came by and grab one of the duffle bags. This had all the past Christmas ornaments that I had bought each year for each of our children. They were found later out in a field where the boys drop them, all smashed and broken. Today I deal with the loss of my mother, those ornaments have taken a back seat in my loss room. Where we are from the inner circle of family stand by the casket as people come by to pay their respects. One friend said, Betty I have been praying Gods strength for you. I said, you know some get their strength from a bottle in times like this but the problem is that bottle get empty. My strength comes from the Lord and He never ever empties me. I have so much in my heart I want to write about of the touch of God so many times in the last couple weeks. Oh, I sense the loss, but your post shows me God does not want me to waste it. Hey, your Dad will be meeting my mother…see no waste.
Wednesday, April 13, 2016 @ 11:08 am
Oh, wow, all that time and effort in the manuscript, gone. I feel the heartache. It’s somewhat of a pattern for you. I like your perspective to learn from loss and change what you can. Good lessons. It’s like the enemy is ripping you off, repeatedly, though. There’s got to be some scripture you can stand on to break that, you know? I’ll find it and pray for you. With me, it’s things falling apart around here. First my drain, then my car, today it’s the dishwasher. Wonderful sentiments about your dad. I’m wondering if you are the kid most like him. You sure did love him! Thank you for sharing that part of your heart. Courageous.
Friday, April 15, 2016 @ 10:10 am
Oh Floyd, I’m so sorry. I just flinched inside at the loss of your briefcase. Even more so at the loss of all that time-consuming writing that sat inside of it. I remember one time years ago when my son was trying to back up his computer, hit the wrong button, and wiped out everything. It was devastating.
I love how you came to a better perspective on it all. I know the *work* that it took to get there. And, bringing in your father, well, that really aligns everything else, huh? I keep reminding myself that one day all my earthly *treasures* will fade into dust. What will last is my loved ones who have gone on to Jesus, and my heavenly inheritance that is unchangeable, imperishable, and eternally secure. It puts a good perspective on loss…
Praying for new words to replace the old ones.
GOD BLESS.
(For the record, since I also suffer from OCD, I have decided that we get a bad rap. So I have redefined that term to mean Organized, Conscientious, and Detail-oriented. I like that better…!)
Saturday, April 16, 2016 @ 10:28 pm
Floyd,
Oh, I am so sorry to hear what happened and for your loss. How truly disappointing and hard.
I’ve been out of town so I apologize for my delay.
I pray God will continue to comfort and encourage you. And may the person who reads your words be changed for the better. May God give you an extra sense of His grace and presence with you.
And what a beautiful tribute to how you saw God inside of your dad. I’m sure you’re passing on the legacy to your daughters.
Praying peace and blessings on you, my friend.
Tuesday, May 3, 2016 @ 5:13 pm
I should have commented on this a long time ago. A very poignant and well-written piece. You do a great job of using the bookend technique with the “all is not lost” phrase. Even more powerful was linking what was inside the bag with what was inside your Dad. Calling out that one would ever guess the contents from the exterior or necessarily even understand what those contents meant to others. And, I have to say, it was heart-breaking to read “I wish I had my words back . . . ” Part of it is because I can deeply emphasize. The other part is you anthropomorphize those words. You make them human, like lost children. It makes me sad even though the overall message is positive. And is that not the point of writing — to make someone feel?