A Fellow Traveller

It all started with putting up my Christmas tree and discovering some of the lights weren't working....Then the bathroom sink stopped draining and no home remedies were working.  The kitchen oven is not dependable any more, requiring the temperature to be set 100 degrees lower so as to not offer burnt offerings.  And now the truck is operating in limp mode after a long trip to Ottawa and back.....lots of frustrations. I'm becoming aware of a more subtle pain in my heart.  I'm thinking that my grieving of a recent death is  lessening until someone gives me a hug and asks how I'm doing. When I find myself tearing up, I know the tears that were underground and unacknowledged need to be welcomed, not stuffed.  When I stuff them, I eat more of the wrong things, especially when I'm alone. I'm becoming more aware of the holes in other's hearts at this season: While sitting around the table with a grieving family, we made Christmas cards but struggled with the

A pre-lit tree is supposed to save you frustration and headache when you set it up.  It is created to be put together from three pieces, to be connected through all the inner cords to an external power source so it can shine brilliantly throughout the Christmas season.  For some undetermined reason, mine is shining less brightly this year. We tried taking it apart and reconnecting all the cords.  We searched for lights that had fallen out or were burnt out.  Finally we called it what it was and decided it would have to be okay, at least for this year. When we contented ourselves with decorating what we had and calling it a zebra tree, it just seemed unique for this year. There are multiple stripes of darkness throughout the tree.  With the decorations on, you'd never recognize the problem in the light of day. In the dark of night though, you can suddenly see the bands of black. Even though the surrounding light is bright, what brilliance there would be should every light be f

Yesterday was Wednesday, Hump Day, Middle of the Week day. I ended the day with a meeting at the church and heard a celebration going on across the foyer. Apparently this was a special event that had been planned for weeks by the girls. Our Adventure Girls Club had baked cookies and came to sing for the adults.  The people who come Wednesday nights pray regularly for the girls and their leaders. My husband said the room was filled as the girls interspersed themselves between the adults to visit and get better aquainted. The girls were a combination of those from church families and community homes and lots of small talk filled the room. To know that someone prays for you is a special thing. Earlier in the day, at "going home time", I was walking a quiet, waif of a girl to her late bus line.  She asked if it was Wednesday and when I said it was, she gave a little hop and said, "Oh goodie!" "Why are you hopping for Wednesday?" "Because I go to K

I am a Canadian A free Canadian Free to speak without fear Free to worship in my own way Free to stand for what I believe right Free to oppose what I believe wrong Free to choose those who shall govern my country This heritage of freedom I pledge to uphold For myself and all people. This past week, my students found a voice to stand for what they believe is right and they got excited.  It was such a small thing, but to feel like you have been heard is so important. We were hosting "buddy time" with our Grade 8 friends and I thought things were going as well as could be expected.  I dealt with the disrespect during instruction time by asking some to move and repeatedly stopping to wait for the student to student conversation to end.  My own students kept watching, knowing when the boundaries were being tested, seeing the "attitude" of the older ones as unacceptable. After they left, I asked, "What went well today?" I had been p

Blessed are those who mourn For they shall be comforted. What does that comfort look like?  Yesterday, it came through hugs from fellow staff as I walked back into work.  It was the cards and even a small gift that said people were thinking of me.  I didn't realize how fragile my emotions were until I found tears flowing at the drop of a hat. But my tears were accepted and that was comforting. Comfort came from being with others, hanging around and talking to people after the funeral. So many had  memories and stories to share. Reconnecting with friends from years past felt so good. Seeing the children walking around with school friends and cousins brought comfort to me, especially since those children are my point of contact. The most surprising thing for me was how the worship music in the service filled me.  I had a picture book to read called Heaven is For Real, with pictures ready to project on the screen behind me. This was requested so all the children would k

When I can't sleep, songs often come to mind.  Tonight (or should I say this morning), the song is about My Shepherd. It's a re-posting, with the tune to the kids song, "I am a Pizza".  I have rewritten the middle verse these past days.  I'm realizing that when I need to be carried, Jesus is more than ready to pick me up and carry me on his shoulders. 1.     God is my Shep herd I am his little lamb He feeds and looks after me I have every thing I need In side my heart is quiet Like lying still in soft grass In a meadow, by a stream my Shep herd cares for me . 2.     Even when I walk through The dar k and lonely plac es I don’t have to be afraid Be cause my shepherd knows I’m here He walks right be side me I trust him and I feel safe He picks me up and car ries me. With Him I’m strong and brave . 3.     My Shep herd is pre par ing Won derful things for me Every thing I’ve dreamed of In h

The river is deep and the waves crash over Christian's head as he tries to cross the river.  He knows this is the only way to get to the Celestial City, the final destination of this journey he has been on.  Although the bottom is felt beneath his feet, the turmoil and fear is great.  The water swells around and threatens to smother. This is a new experience and a new path for him to travel. It is his friend Hopeful who encourages with words that remind of truth and give hope.  Hopeful reminds Christian that he will not be abandoned in the river.  God is still with him, even in this part of the journey.  Christian is reminded of the promise, "When you walk through the waters, you will not drown..."  But these are only words at this point. Suddenly Christian exclaims, "Oh, I see him again!"  Although he was in darkness and had lost hope, Jesus had not abandoned him.  In that final moment, Christian recognizes the Presence that has been accompanying him throug

The crowds are thick around me and there's all kinds of noise.  I have a fear of getting lost among the legs in the crowd. In a panic I reach out to hold my dad's hand, relieved to find him within reach. When I want to go my way and feel him pulling back, I yield and follow because I don't want to get lost. There's safety in hanging on tight and walking with him but my legs seem to get tired,  trying to keep up. Maybe there's a better way. If I were to jump into his arms and have him hoist me up on his shoulders, I would be above the crowds. It would be scary getting up there and I'd have to hang on extra tight (especially at first) but I could see what he sees.  I wouldn't have to worry about what step to take next because he would be doing all the walking.Who knows where he might  take me next? There's exhilaration in letting go of walking my way and riding on his shoulders.  Now I can whisper in his ear and know that he hears what I wan

For past number of years, ever since I heard that ALS (Lou Gerig's Disease) was joining a family of six, I've been joining them at their beautiful home for family devotions.  We have read a story from the Bible and talked about who God is and what his rescue plan is. We have realized that the whole Bible is really one story of God's "never-stopping-unending-love." We have grown in our ability to pray out loud.  We have realized that this God we can't clearly see, can be a part of every day with us. My stories have been about how I have become aware of God's spirit with me at  school, where I am a teacher.  The children have connected to my stories, asking for new ones each week.  As we have grown in our awareness, it's gotten easier to talk to him and not just ask for things. From the youngest to the oldest, we have all taken turns praying. This week, Mom has moved into hospice; a different home where the nurses will be able to provide wonderful ca

You have to watch this video (Romancing the Wind on YouTube) to believe it can be done; three kites simultaneously riding the wind currents to create beauty, all controlled by one man, Ray Bethel. Amazing beauty to the senses of sight and sound.   Oh to be free to fly as a kite in this way. Oh to feel the wind beneath me and feel in sync with those around me. I don't want to keep bumping into others or get tangled up with negative emotions. Oh to feel like I'm fulfilling my purpose as part of routine daily flights. I'm afraid my kite is often down on the ground or in need of repairs. But if I can allow the master kite flyer, the one who created me and knows me best, to do the needed repairs, then I can see these 'down' times as just a season of time.  If I can rest in the fact that he made me as I am and he loves me, then I don't have to stress over outcomes or circumstances. It's not my job to control things but to allow myself to trust the k

Here in Canada, we are celebrating Thanksgiving. I love this early October celebration as the trees start to change and show their true colours. It's like we are finally getting a real glimpse of the inner beauty hidden inside some the trees. It takes the harshness of the weather conditions and the lack of nourishment to bring out that colour. In the same way, it often takes the hard times of life and it's challenges to bring what's inside me. Sometimes it's ugly and sometimes it's beautiful but it makes me more aware of me. I am good at pretending; of smiling and thinking all is well. When the hurtful words come out, I'd like to blame my circumstances or other people, because then it's not my fault. It's taken time, but I'm learning to accept myself with my unique colours and allow God to work on the stuff than needs removing. I'm so thankful today for the bits of love, joy and peace that I have experienced in this past year. I see that n

The night was black and I was struggling to steer my car. I had spent three hours visiting my cousin with ALS and was heading towards home. As I pulled over to the side of the road, there was not a house in sight. The tire was flat and I wondered, "What do I do now?"   Not having a cell phone was suddenly a problem. Not even seeing a house nearby to walk towards made that idea seem foolish as well. As I struggled to find the hazard lights, a pick up truck slowed down and a young man asked what was wrong.  "I have a flat tire and I don't have a cell phone." "No problem," he said and promptly pulled up behind me to help.  I watched in amazement as he worked to solve problem after problem. Because the wheels were bigger than the originals, nothing I had fit. Without his own tools, the wheel could not have been removed.   When he put on the spare tire, he noticed that it didn't have enough air to get me home. He decided to take it to his

On this Labour Day holiday, my mind is celebrating all our summer labours. We got a daughter settled in her room in Ottawa, realizing that God has placed her where she needs to be to work at her co op job. We have to trust in his perfect timing for finding the place and release her to live in her new surroundings. Only God knows how she and Susan are joing to connect during these four months. We have to trust that God is already working in this situation and is allowing Stephanie to join in his work.   Joining with God in his work is what has changed my work from backbreaking to bearable and even light. The load is lighter when I can share it with the God of creation. When I join with him in creating change, it suddenly seems less overwhelming. As I talk to him each day in my classroom, I am more able to focus on small jobs and not be overwhelmed by the mountain ahead. I am able to get fresh ideas in organizing my space that I trust will help promote student independance in the we

Yesterday, as I was wiping out book bins, setting up my classroom library, doing bulletin boards and generally arranging things, my mind went back to three years ago. I remembered two friends who gave up a Saturday to combine all the work into one day. I remember how encouraging that was to work with others and not feel overwhelmed. I realized how we teachers work so much in isolation as an island unto ourselves. I thought of everyone who was probably thinking the same kind of thoughts....."what should I do first?" and " I still need to get my class list so I can get started on a whole bunch of other jobs." etc. etc.   As teachers, we don't often talk about our insecurities before the students walk in the door. We prepare and yet until we see the white of their eyes, hear their voices and interact with their personalities, we can only imagine what things will be like. We can plan things, but until we meet the students, the teaching process is just a pla

I take the frozen bananas out of the freezer and compare the number to my recipe that calls for 2 mashed. It looks like I'll be quadrupling the recipe if I want to use them all up.   Will my biggest mixing bowls be big enough to do the job? Will I have enough of all the other ingredients needed? It looks like I'm good to go.  As I get my giant wooden spoon into the mixture, I remember my Grandma Wideman making pies and butter tarts. She did nothing in a small way, being used to baking for market days. In her later years, she would take over our kitchen while my mom would "gopher" this and that, washing the dishes and cleaning up the flour which ended up being everywhere. Those days are long past, but I feel closer to my Grandma as the warm memories come flooding back. Before long my bowls are literally overflowing. When thinking that my biggest mixing bowls would do the job, I didn't take into account the total sum of adding wet to dry ingredients. How

I've been thinking of the little boy with a lunch of five loaves and two fish. In a crowd of thousands, he's the only one with a lunch. Everyone ran so quickly to follow Jesus that they didn't think to pack any food. This boy's mom probably admonished him to make sure to eat when he felt hungry.   What kept him from snacking and eating it before? Had he been so engrossed in the storytelling that he forgot to eat? When the disciples were looking for food, did he try to hide it? Or did he suddenly remember that his mom had tucked it in his bag? Did he wonder what his mom would say if he didn't eat it? Or maybe he was supposed to deliver it to someone else and had gotten sidetracked by following Jesus. By now, his stomach was probably growling along with everyone else. He now had a decision to make; one that would determine history.   If that were me, I'm afraid I would have hung on to it. I would not have wanted to go hungry. Being concerned about pleasing

Each of us is in a boat of life, maintaining it and doing our best to steer around obstacles. When we see our need, we choose to invite Jesus to join us. He comes and takes up residence in our boat, ready to do life with us. When things are calm, we have time to talk and we can learn to listen to his words of truth. But when a storm whips up, we suddenly forget he is even in the boat with us.   We paddle furiously, trying to keep our boat afloat. The huge waves lift and toss us about, bringing fear into our throats as the spray stings our eyes. When the water starts leaking in, we grab a bucket and start bailing, wondering how much time we have before we're going down. All the while, we've forgotten who is sleeping in our boat.   Resting calmly is the creator of the universe. Sleeping with his head on a pillow is the One who spoke the water into existence, separating it to form moisture above and liquid below. We have one in our boat who created the natural world and al

It's so interesting to watch students as they handle their moment in the limelight at a graduation ceremony. Whether it's the achievement of finishing elementary, high school or college/university, they all walk across the stage alone to receive their diploma. Some walk with confidence, others with trepidation, yet all are proud of their achievements up to that moment. There is such optimism in the air for the unknown future. Little attention is given to all the effort and support that has gone into getting them to this particular moment of time. Yet for some, each minute of each day takes supreme effort and support from others. Last week a Grade eight girl received her diploma from a wheelchair. Born with multiple disabilities, I have never seen her without the constant support and assistance from EA's at our school. On Graduation night, she was lifted onto the stage and sat in her wheelchair ready for the processional. When her name was called and her chair was pushed to

When is anger a good thing? I've seen a mom angry when an injustice is done to her child and she rushes in to protect and make things right. She's not ready to ask what really happened, only to solve things for her child. Anger pushes her to action. I've felt anger rushing over me as I hear words being used that hurt and damage someone else. It pushes me to take action and it fuels me to not back away until I see results. Recently, I saw a girl so angry she said she wanted to kill someone and she wasn't backing away for anything. Anger seems to be an emotion that can take over to the point that we are out of control. This little girl would not listen to reason, as I tried to discern what had happened. She had accidentally taken the full force of a kicked soccer ball to the stomach, which really hurt. Yet by piling on blame and saying the boy did it "on purpose", she couldn't let go of her anger. She was not being open to seeing another point of view and t

Three years is a long time when you're in grade three. When you're having trouble getting along with someone, one day is a very long time. Put it all together, and you have a very big problem. These girls said they had been bullied by each other since grade one and now had enough. They were getting tired of it all. As their teacher, I was tired of being in the middle and was hoping for lasting change. Maybe they'd be willing to do the hard work of forgiving. Although I didn't always hear the words, I could see the body language; the rolling of the eyes, the turning of the head or the glaring of the eyes. Parents and teachers alike had tried to get these girls to stop but nothing would last. Specific conflicts had been resolved and apologized for, but within days, they were back at it again. When would it end? I had a mental picture of two grandmothers walking in the mall, turning away when they saw the other, trying not to make eye contact so they wouldn't h

I'm at a birthday party for two siblings. Miley is one and Zak is three. There's lots of activity and conversation. One of their cousins is in Grade Three. We talk about the EQAO test and make connections between us. I'm a teacher and she's a student who didn't realize that all Ontario students write the exact same test. It's nice to find a point of connection; something to talk about at a deeper level than the others around us. Then the birthday cake is displayed; half for Miley with a 1 and half for Zak with a 3. Immediately I connect to a math problem I gave my students for homework. They (and their parents) struggled to find the answer. I had struggled to even know which strategies to try. Here was a "real life" situation that connected for me........and instantly I am forming a word problem in my mind, before the candles are even blown out. If Zak is three and Miley is one, in how many years will Zak be twice as old as his sister? In the origin

I woke up this morning thinking of how there is cooperation at the core of everything. I had a great night's sleep, until I lay awake thinking......The pillows, sheets and quilt were cooperating with the bed frame, headboard and mattress. All were working together to provide what I needed for a time of restoration and renewal through sleep. I get dressed and everything is in cooperation, since all can't be a sleeve, buttons or pants. Each part is important and yet none could function on it's own. My breakfast is a cooperation of elements as well; cereal, milk, bowl and spoon. As each part cooperates and works together with my hand, arm and mouth, I can get nourishment and energy for a new day. I jump in my car to get to work. This cooperation goes far beyond my understanding as the key starts the ignition, which sets an entire cooperation picture in the engine into action. Even the wheels, tires, seats and steering wheel cooperate in the way they combine to make a whole, f

I did it again. I let someone down. I totally and completely forgot to fulfill my promises. I could be walking around right now with a big L on my forehead, but I choose to not let my failure define who I am. It was Sunday morning and I was quickly filling the crock pot with food before leaving for an early band practice. I was eating a quick bowl of cereal before leaving and mentally going through my checklist. Friends were coming for lunch and I wanted to be prepared. As I collected my things, I knew I had everything I needed, yet felt a sense of travelling light. Was there something I was forgetting? No, I had everything I needed. At the practice, we were warming up, meeting and greeting each other. As we were about to get started, our leader noticed the guitar player missing. I was asked, "Did you pick him up this morning?" because I'm his ride. That's when the truth sunk in. "Oh no, I completely forgot him! That poor guy's been waiting all this time.&

Words kill; words give life. They're either poison, or fruit - you choose. What does this proverb have to do with a primary classroom? I didn't know the answer at first but knew I needed to post the proverb on the bulletin board. I needed a visible reminder that my words have a powerful effect for good and for bad - it's my choice how I react and what I will choose to say. This week alone, I have referred to this proverb four times (and it's only Tuesday). When gossip is being passed around, right in the middle of work time, it's time to stop and evaluate what's happening. When verbal put-downs are handed out continually on the playground and feelings are hurt, it's time to stop the pattern. When written words, "You are a failure." are posted on a worksheet, it's time to redefine peer feedback. When threats of revenge are spoken undercover to keep things a secret, it's time to expose and stop the poison. What if that's w

A "good fit" book is one that is at just the right reading level for the reader; one that a student wants to read independently and can comprehend. I found a read-a-loud book last week that was just right for an unexpected teachable moment with my primary class. I can't remember exactly why I first chose the book five months ago, but there it sat buried in a pile on my desk at school. Because of the three months away from the classroom, I had totally forgotten it was even there. After telling the third installment of my baby bird story (as in previous posts), I realized that I needed to follow up on the death and dying theme. As I prepared my lesson plans for the next day, I wondered where to go next. I moved some things to be tidied up and found the book "Good-bye Vivi". This surprising find turned out to be an amazing perfect fit. In the picture book, Grandma and her pet bird move in with a family with young children. One day the bird takes sick and dies of o

(Read the previous two posts for background to this one. Start with Mothering from Outside.) Because I've been talking about the baby birds, my students keep asking for more of the story each day. I had shared the discovery of finding the birds joined together, but had downplayed the certainty of their deaths. Yesterday I decided to make it a teachable moment, not waiting for the inevitable questioning. My daughters were the ones to remove the birds from the nest while I was at school. In the process of lifting them out, the nest was destroyed. Some kind of nesting material must have been wrapped around the bird's legs, causing their legs to fuse and "grow" together. They possibly died of starvation, although the stronger one probably tried to get free of the other. Even though my girls had cared for the birds, I had a need to see them for myself. It was as if I needed closure. It wasn't enough to forget and move on, telling myself they were just birds.

(To understand better, read the previous post Mothering from Outside) When I got home from school, I checked the nest outside, expecting it to be empty by now. I was sure the birds would have "flown the coop". My whole perspective has changed, now that I see more of the truth. The bird who was trying to fly yesterday is still trying, but will never fly. What I couldn't see before was that he is joined at one leg to the other bird. There must have been some kind of birth defect that joins them together. Were their eggs partially joined together or did they share the same egg as siamese twins? Or did something happen after birth? http://www.deseretnews.com/article/705375988/Free-at-last-conjoined-robins-separated-one-in-critical-condition.html It looks like the stronger has been attempting to remove this burdensome weight. There is blood on the eavestrough and the weaker one no longer is chirping. The biggest one is on the edge while the other is head first insid

(This is the first of the bird story.) Today seems to be "pre-flight day" on our back deck. One baby robin has already fled the nest leaving two reluctant siblings behind. The mother is flying back and forth between two small trees, alternating between loud calls and a more gutteral sound from the back of her throat. There is a continual conversation going on between mother and offspring. The one on the nest's edge keeps responding to her, showing some motion towards flying but no real action. "You can do it, dear. I just know you can, " I imagine the mother saying. "But I don't think I'm ready yet. I've never done it before. I'm afraid I'll fall." From the side, I find myself joining the conversation with, "You can do it, little guy. You must be ready to fly, if your mom is calling. Just go for it!" I realize that they have everything they need to fly. The wings are getting stronger as they

When I read a story of a little girl's sleep-over with a great grandma,   my heart is warmed. Rather than sleeping in the guest bed, the six year old wanted to crawl in with Grandma, laughing and chatting as if at a friend's house. When it was finally time to settle down to sleep, the grandma held her great granddaughter's hand until sleep came. The phrase about hands reaching "across the generations" is what has stayed with me. There is a special connection when women build relationships and are willing to share some of life's wisdom with each other. I love it when it happens with my daughters, or with my mom or aunt. I'm realizing that not everyone has those nourishing relationships within their birth families. Even if we do, we still need other women to encourage us. I felt that connection when I dropped in on a young mom with preschoolers and we chatted over coffee. She's like a daughter to me and I realized how connected we are at th

What more could a girl want for her birthday? The beautiful, warm sunshine made it an April day to remember. The facebook birthday messages that started rolling in, alluding to the need to enjoy such beautiful weather. The fact that both my husband and I were off work made it an open ended day and the choices were endless. After a leisurely breakfast, I was told we could go shopping anywhere I'd like. We ended up across the river at the Boulevard Mall, eating at the food court and shopping. I was amazed how the sun was streaming in through the overhead windows. I found my things in two stores, which was great for me, cause I'm NOT a shopper. I also sat on benches soaking in the sun when resting and enjoyed the moms and toddlers around me. We had an early supper on the way back, having Kelsey's pretty much to ourselves. Gorgeous flowers and dark chocolate suddenly appeared after we got home, making it seem like the perfect day. But my best gift came through a phone

Listening means I'm not talking about myself; I'm reflecting back what I'm hearing the other person saying, asking, "Is that right?" and "Are you saying this....?" I let the person talking clarify their facts and feelings. I give opportunity for the whole story to be told if they wish. But that's harder than it seems, especially in the context of family. My daughter has pointed this out, and my eyes are becoming open to ingrained patterns. It seems that I'm quick to jump into conversations, to share my own connections, to give advice, to make judgements, to suggest solutions. What if that's not what's needed? What if I just need to listen?   Maybe if I could listen more deeply and intently, I would begin to see what is underneath; to see what feelings are under the surface; to understand what hurts are driving things. Maybe the words coming out of my mouth would then be more than just my words. If my heart

You know you've gained weight when your clothes don't fit, right? I've been sitting around for weeks healing, getting no exercise and feeling like things have gone to mush. My pants feel tight and I feel so out of shape. Yet I had a big surprise yesterday. As part of the PURE longitudinal study with McMaster, I had my three year checkup. I had lots of questions to answer about lifestyle choices regarding exercise and diet. I was asked if I've had a heart attack or stroke in the past three years and I could say no. My accident was detailed but was simply noted as an aside in the study. When I was measured and comparisons were made though, I saw that I had lost an inch in my inch and hips. How could that be when my clothes feel tight? I guess the daily morning exercise of the past three years has started a trend that I was unaware of. This latest blip on the screen, which seems so long right now, doesn't over-ride the benefits that have been gained long

There is a musical notation for holding that looks like a bird's eye called "fermata". It is a pause of unspecified length on a note or rest . The musician (or conductor) interprets and determines exactly how long to hold the notes before continuing on, building anticipation for what's to follow. That's where my song has been these past weeks - in a fermata hold. There were six weeks of hobbling with a cast, waiting for the healing of bones. You'd think that would be long enough, but then the work of regaining movement had to begin. Muscles are now working better but strength and stamina are slowly developing and so the fermata continues. When you're in pause mode, it's easy to want to stay there. I'm enjoying the space and time to read, to post some blogs, to compose music and to connect with friends. At the same time, I can see how this break could make the next part more musical, since I'll be more rested in mind and body. A

Dinner was finished and conversation was floating around the table. This had been my first big meal since the accident, and it felt good to serve; to actually do something once again for my whole family, parents included. I left the cleanup to sit and rest for a while since my foot was beginning to ache. I knew the dishes could wait. All the adults had moved to comfortable seating in the family room. and now my husband came to join us with his coffee in hand. He surveyed the room to find that the only seat left was a small wooden chair on the far side of the room. To reach it, he would have to crawl over a sea of legs. "Why don't you grab a kitchen chair and sit here?" I suggested. "But I was going over there." He looked at the chair by the window. "But this will be easier." "No it won't. I'll have to carry it." And so went our dialogue until he sat down with the kitchen chair, saying something about doing it because he loved me. I

Yesterday I reflected on my aches and pains. Today on this Holy Friday, I feel I have no right to complain. The pain I have experienced, even at it's worst, has been nothing to what Jesus went through in a crucifixion death. Agonizing nerve pain is what my mom endures daily from neuropathy in her feet. If anyone has earned a right to complain, it's her. Even with the dulling relief of morphine, it's a constant layer that burns through each day and night. At the same time, I see an inner beauty and sweetness that defies her circumstances and disease. If you were to ask her about it, she would tell you that it's simply because Jesus is with her. He gives her strength as she focuses on his gifts to her. She looks for others to encourage, especially those enduring pain. Who was with Jesus through his agony? Deserted by his closest friends, he was alone in the jeering crowds to carry a heavy cross. Even with nails piercing his hands and feet, he refused anything to d

My muscles are aching.....not just my foot and ankle, but my calf , thigh and butt......they're aching in the night, causing my husband to ask why I'm thrashing about. I'm realizing that without pain, there's no gain. At first, my sign of healing was less pain. After surgery, the number of hours between pain killers became my benchmark for healing, until I no longer needed them to mask pain. As my cast got looser, I realized the swelling must be going down - a sign of healing. Each time I got a new cast, another sign of progress. But when the cast was finally removed, things suddenly changed. It was a sudden reversal in the graphing of pain. As I work to move muscles that have atrophied from lack of use, pain becomes the benchmark for progress. I don't like pain, in fact I usually do everything to keep from hurting myself. Yet now I'm doing exercises and pushing myself to limits marked by pain. Now I'm seeing how long I can stay on my feet, comparing th

Can life come to something that is broken? Can bones heal on their own when fractured and dislocated? If there is a valley filled with dried out bones, is there any hope of healing? Only if God intervenes. In this dream, the bones start rattling and start reconnecting, fitting together like a complex puzzle coming together on it's own. Then the tendons and ligaments cover each, followed by flesh and finally skin. As each body stands in it's wholeness, there is no life, no motion or movement of any kind. Amazing things have happened to get to this point, but without life these bodies are simply monuments, standing without life. Finally the wind blows from all four directions and God's spirit fills each structure. This is the source of true living. It makes me wonder what structures we can work to rebuild, only to find something missing, something elusive and beyond ourselves. I can work to rebuild my marriage and relationships with the building blocks of better communicat

Today my cast was removed. The source of my itch is now exposed and I am suddenly able to rub off the dry skin from around my ankle. The three incisions have healed shut leaving bumpy tracks yet the foot is frozen in one position. The x rays looked good and the doctor said, ``You`re good to go. You can start putting weight on it now.``But it`s not as easy as that. Without the cocoon of the fiberglass around my ankle, every bump or brush against something is noticed. I`ve only started standing and putting some weight on it, but the muscles feel so tight. I know healing has taken place but I don`t feel ready to go. I will have to trust and begin to take baby steps towards mobility, listening when my body tells me to stop and rest.

Since suddenly breaking my ankle and feeling sidelined, I'm reflecting on how to keep one's optimism during a down time. I'm finding a growing appreciation for simple things. It's easy to take things for granted, especially when life is flying by at top speed. Having it suddenly stop gives you time to reflect..... Now I'm finding a daily choice with how to deal with the negative. Do I focus on what I don't have or do I embrace what I am able to enjoy? Two friends came to visit this morning and our conversation ha s warmed my heart, making me thankful for girl friends and muffins. Now an e mail has come with the following prayer. It sums up my thinking of what I really need for each day. Maybe it's the simple things that can be "just enough". . . . for myself and for those I love. I pray you enough sun to keep your attitude bright no matter how gray the day may appear. I pray you enough rain to appreciate the sun even more. I pray you enough happ

I was first of all just a thought, an image, but my creator God knew who I would become. He set to work, fashioning me inside my mother's womb, using everything available to him. In that dark place, cells divided and organs were formed putting all the pieces in place for further development. My personality, my talents, my purpose all were part of that plan. Even at my birth, it didn't matter that I wasn't fully complete, because he knew an entire lifetime would be needed to develop my character. The amazing thing is how he continues to create, using the dark circumstances to add more depth, more texture and interest. Dot upon dot, even the solid black becomes beauty when contrasted with the light. Only a master artist can take what others would consider mistakes and create beauty from pain. Only a master artist can continue a masterpiece until completion, even when others say it looks fine. If he hadn't invested love and poured all of himself into the process, it wo

GOD ANSWER YOU ON THE DAY YOU CRASH, THE NAME GOD-OF-JACOB PUT YOU OUT OF HARM'S WAY. I had woken early with these words from The Message (Psalm 20) in my mind, thinking I'd share them later with a friend who had been having a bad day. About 30 minutes later, I found myself slipping on black ice and going down with an armful of papers. As I heard a dreaded CRACK from above my right ankle. I didn't want to believe that I could be in this much trouble. The pain told me I couldn't ignore it, especially when I gingerly tried to put my weight on a foot that was screaming. A glance up and down the street showed no lights on at any homes; no one up early on a Saturday. My only choice was to crawl back up on the porch I had just stepped off of, only this time to ring their doorbell. As the owners peered out, trying to figure out who was there, I was thankful for their concern. They helped me to their vehicle, drove me home to get my health card and then on to the hospital

The alarm brought me out of a restless sleep to a new week - a Monday. I lay awake thinking of my day, then jumped up to get the papers done. As I walked, I thought of a quick email I wanted to send before leaving for the day and I went over a few lesson plans in my mind. But there seemed to be a lot of people up early. My walking routine allows my mind to process many other things at the same time. This is my favourite part of the day. I saw a child in his PJ's saying good-bye to Daddy. I noticed cars warming up their engines in the frigid air. Almost all the houses had light on, yet I kept wondering why so many people were up early? I am usually one of only a few earlyrisers in the neighbourhood. Could I be late? It didn't make sense because I had responded to my trusty alarm clock (but hadn't actually looked at it to see the time.) It wasn't till I saw Notre Dame high school students emerging that I started to panic. The boy who gave me the time had no idea that I