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"I write what I see, and it comes from the heart." .....Jon C. Randall
As he stood there briefly, taking one last glance into her room, seeing the empty mirror, the single vase that held a rose, and her bed, he reflected inwardly of where the sweet honesty lies with her words. It troubled him, as he turned then to say good bye to the one he loves, to return back home to the loneliness and emptiness found in his soul. The long trip back would give him space to reflect and ponder, in anguish of deep prayer, with many memories.
She briefly brought depth into his life, reaching in where no others have gone, and allowed him the freedom to be himself. It was a time of laughing, long quiet talks, of the touching, and a gentle kiss. He was amazed at her tremendous beauty with porcelain delicacy, how fragile she was when she hugged and kissed, watching her openness in the beginning of the first deep lingering kiss, that faded slowly in the end to cautious endearment. She drew him out, as he was amazed within the depths and feelings that still lied within beneath the surface, creating a maelstrom of passionate emotions that rose to such heights he thought had died over time. He handed them to her as a gift of the heart, for gentle safekeeping in quiet trust, those intense inner thoughts and feelings of suffering and sorrow he had kept secret to all.
He listened quietly over time to her words of pain and torment, as she shared her inner sorrow of a time gone by. He saw within, a quiet regal beauty, grace and elegance that befit those of the great, in deep intelligence and power. Her words were eloquent, powerful, with great depth and quiet perception, revealing what she had undergone. There was richness in her expression of her loss, allowing him to see what she had through her eyes with her words. It staggered him of the many similarities and desires revealed, of where they were now in this place called life. It was a penetrating focus of that sweet honesty of truth so many seem to miss.
But the core of the matter is revealed in a simple truth, that when all things are stripped away, and we stand alone in suffering and inner pain, we can only rely on His grace and mercy, taking each day as they come, to share that within to another who would fully understand in simple trust. Each would give then, to the other, the sweet honest truth of Him, and of who we are within. There are no facades, no trappings of wealth, but, a true core of compassion in love for one another, dwelling solely in His love for us, in that simple trust in Him and each other, day by day, one day at a time. In the trinity so uniquely seen, a priceless power that is unmatched upon the face of this earth that no one can touch, can be harnessed for the enrichment of others to give them hope and deep insight, if they choose to walk that path together with that unique bond of love and trust for His glory, and with Him. The sweet honesty and reality of it all, is that we have nothing, but ourselves, to offer Him, and each other.
© Copyright Jon C. Randall 1998
-All Rights Reserved-
THE STORY BEHIND THE STORY OF "SWEET HONESTY"
The woman I went to see...was a nurse. The difference was...she was dying of cancer. It raced through her bone marrow.... up to her neck, then ended in remission...just short of her brain. She had to undergo painful multi injections by a machine as she stood upright with a bit in her mouth.... the pain hitting her all over at once.
She was fragile and small...and a beautiful woman. She had endured much grief throughout her life, from abuse...to beatings...etc. We met online when I was on AOL the first time, and we developed a bond of friendship during, I think, 8 months before I saw her. She was living with a couple, who were helping her out...stranded in New Orleans. She once ran a hospital/group home in the NE, and had a heart of gold. Soft and gentle was she.
She invited me to come there to see here in New Orleans, and I agreed to come. I got a hotel room, and picked her up in the mornings and we go tour. We saw the French Quarter, ate, walked around looking at the architecture, went down to the riverfront, and had a darn good time. We even went into a lingerie shop where she bought something racy for her. One time, we were having coffee in an outdoor cafe across from a police station, listening to a blind woman sing. We invited her to join us, and we three talked for hours.
In the evenings, were the long quiet talks, as we sat outside, smoking and sharing wine. I promised her the night before I left, that I would write a story about our meeting, and gave it the title "Sweet Honesty" right then. In spite of her pain that she endured to make my stay enjoyable, she never complained. She was a remarkable woman, and I loved her dearly for who she was inside.
That morning, saying our good byes, I had to go to the bathroom. I saw her bedroom door open, and glanced inside of her room. That is where the story started. On the long drive home, I thought about what I learned and saw, then pulled over to the side of the road in Louisiana, and started writing my thoughts down. When I got home to Arkansas that night, I typed it out, sending a copy to her, dedicating it to her.
She moved shortly after that to be with a doctor who apparently was abusive to her. I lost contact with her, and soon quit AOL the first time after being on there for 3 1/2 years. I have never seen nor heard from her again, but her impact on my life lingers on.
That is how my life is, always being impacted by special people. Now you are in my path, and I wonder where this path will take us, and what we will learn from it.
This one is dedicated to ToKute
October 24, 1998
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