A Fellow Traveller

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