When I write I feel more Like myself Than when I talk.
When I write I feel released and Relaxed.
When I talk I feel constricted, Restricted, Conflicted.
When I write, I feel Myself breathing easily.
When I talk, I can’t take a deep breath.
Is it any wonder I enjoy writing More than talking?
It’s only natural. I enjoy being released, Relaxed And breathing easily More than being confined, Restricted, Conflicted And unable to take a deep breath.
. . .
Talking demands I be someone else, Someone I’m perceived to be, Someone I’m needed to be, Someone I’d rather not be, Someone I’m required to be In order to put others at ease, In order to make the least waves, In order to flow in their stream, In order to be permitted in their space.
I’m required to wear a certain face As I talk…
So—I would rather write…isn’t it obvious why?
Even as you read this you say, “You don’t really feel this way, do you?”
Isn’t it obvious I do? Isn’t it obvious You’d rather not believe me? Isn’t it obvious your reaction Is part of why I’d rather write than talk?
But I just did talk in my loudest voice… Pen and Ink!
-- Written by Carol E. Crain at 4:00 a.m., February 01, 2001
When the sun goes down upon my life And the sunrise seems so very far away, I just call upon you, Lord, my source of Light, And then you turn my darkness into day.
When problems surround me, and I'm burdened with care, Lord you're always with me . . . I know You are there. If I walk with you, I know you'll see me through, For no problem in my life is greater than you.
Carol Ellen Williamson Crain, 71, of Taylors, S.C., died on January 11, 2019.
Born in Oakland, California., she grew up in Washington, Pennsylvania, as a daughter of Betty Lee Day and the late Edward Williamson. She was a retired teacher and a member of Sandhills Assembly of God, Southern Pines, N.C.
Also surviving are her husband, Larry Steve Crain of the home, and two daughters: Janelle Lee Smith (Terry) of Taylors, S.C., and Suzanne Crain Miller (Chad) of Raleigh, N.C.
Mrs. Crain affirmed that she “accepted Christ as her Savior” when she was four and a half years old at a “Vacation Bible School held at Broad St. Baptist Church in Washington, PA.” A 1969 Bob Jones Univ. graduate, she taught at Gateway Elementary School in Travelers Rest, S.C., before moving from Greenville, S.C., in 1988 to N.C. She last taught school at Hoffman Elementary, Richmond County, N.C. In recent years, she led inspirational book discussions and mailed letters to many, calling her letters “Envelope Hugs.” An account of her letter-writing can be found at www.carolecrain.blogspot.com. She and her husband moved from Southern Pines, N.C., to Taylors, S.C. in January 2018. After a six-year battle with pulmonary hypertension, she died peacefully at Hospice House of the Carolina Foothills, Landrum, S.C.
Funeral services will be held 12:00 p.m., Wednesday, January 16, 2019 at the Wood Mortuary (Greer, SC), conducted by Rev. Jerry Brown and Rev. Steven Sturm. Burial will follow in Hillcrest Memory Gardens.
Visitation will be held 6:00-8:00 p.m. Tuesday, January 15, 2019 at The Wood Mortuary, Greer, S.C.
The family is at the home. In lieu of flowers, memorials are suggested for Assemblies of God World Missions, 1445 N Boonville Ave., Springfield, MO 65802, or Hospice of the Carolina Foothills, P.O. Box 336, Forest City, NC 28043.
By Carol E. Crain, written August 1, 2011 Throughout my life I’ve had drawers of emotions – Emotions I had to stuff, Put away, not show, And lock them up.
Then as I lived life later, I was able to open the drawers And look at the contents Little by little – piece by piece.
The drawers are being emptied more each year. Some of the things I kept, And thought I always would, I see no use for keeping now. I’m doing a kind of sorting, Re-filing and re-thinking About the purpose for keeping Each memory . . .
Each painful experience Letting some of them go Isn’t like saying, “This didn’t really happen to me – This wasn’t really done to me, This didn’t really affect me – Or wreck me or wrack me, Rock me or wound me!”
In time, I have seen That letting some of the drawers’ contents go Frees me, relieves me, heals me - To make room for other positive Experiences in my life.
Some memories are like old blankets That keep me warm and comfort me. Those I keep.
Other things in the drawers Bring up sadnesses and pain, Loss and damaged emotions.
What to keep? What to let go? The Lord is helping me know. Some things I redefine, Rather than discard.
I look at them with the new light I have gained through years Of looking within, without, With various lights shone on my drawers’ contents.
Sometimes a spot-light glares. Other times a soft-veiled light Shows the finer details, Rather than glaring, searing pain.
Sometimes I choose to keep The drawer closed – Contents kept in the dark, Because I feel too frail And not up to looking At all that’s inside.
Sometimes when someone else’s pain Is evident enough, I’ve opened my Drawer and shared certain artifacts In order to help them be set free From part of their pain.
As I do, the Lord makes it worth it To me to share my rips and tears, My fears and rage and vehicles Of healing.
Sometimes I want to be all fixed instantaneously healed and whole And yet, I realize I learn From the step-by-step journey More so than if I’d been Catapulted into instant perfection.
I do value the process, the Gradual unveiling, un-layering, Arranging and re-arranging, Tears and expressed rage, Sadness for loss and making Peace with what is left – What remains.
Sometimes, who I am now Seems so intertwined With who I was then. I find it hard to separate Myself From that child, That teen, that person in her Twenties and thirties. I can’t really separate myself into then and now.
I don’t have to be void of Memories of them In order to let the Lord Give me peace now.
I don’t have to have the past Surgically removed and discarded In order to feel renewed And able to be free to embrace now.
I don’t have to gut my life from then In order to renovate my heart – Remodel my mind . . . Renew my spirit now.
As I look back, I’m empowered To look ahead. Only as I look back can I Look ahead.
I don’t have to have amnesia About my past memories In order to create new, Better ones.
Can anyone really understand All the facets of my being? No, I can’t expect them to. They don’t live inside me. They haven’t witnessed My days and nights.
Only Jesus and I were there When each memory was made, When each rip and tear took place. He was also there as the stitching Took place.
He is the ultimate alteration King. At times, I felt like my Life’s tapestry was unraveling And being reworked. The back of the tapestry has A variety of threads and knots, But the scene on the front Has been forming for almost Sixty-four years.
The final stitches won’t be finished Until the last day I’m here On this earth.
When I see the Lord, I’ll have A new tapestry of total perfection – His picture of my life will be What it was finally meant to be. I’ll be who He created me to be.
