Tattooed and Ready to Go!

I don't know about you, but getting a tattoo is not something I have ever thought too much about.  I did go through a piercing phase in my teens and had seven ear-piercings at one time.  Several piercings I even accomplished myself with the help of some ice cubes and a sterilized sewing needle.  Good times.

But now I have four tattoos.

They are not big or decorative.  No giant colourful dragon, meaningful words or cute little tweety-bird for me.  My tatts are four, tiny specks.  The doctors told me that they would be the size of a freckle, but when I examined them, they resembled blackheads to me.

Rats!

I don't know about you, but I am pretty sure that when people go to a tattoo parlour there are no "blackhead" tattoos to choose from.  Of course, I could be wrong.  Maybe there is an entire section in the Tattoo Possibility Book dedicated to "blackheads".  Maybe a blackhead tattoo is the cool new thing.

Maybe I am actually a trend-setter or trend-follower?
Either way, I do feel slightly cooler than I did before the tattoos.

"Hey kids," I will say with a swagger in my tone, "How many moms do you know who have one boob and four tattoos?  I gotta say it, you guys have one cool mom!"

That will usually bring on a few snickers, giggles or an animated eye-roll.

All I know is: this is the refigured body God has given me, and I am trying to work it.

Radiation begins this week Tuesday and will run daily from Monday-Fridays for five consecutive weeks.  Treatments are not very long but can cause fatigue during the latter part of treatments and even for months following.  I guess this means I should go to bed on time.

Rats again!

I was hoping that radiation would be something like sun-tanning, but my radiation planning appointment of a few weeks ago assured me that it would not be.

Double rats!

The radiation is an "insurance policy", my radiologist informed Paul and I at a long-ago appointment. This part is great because who doesn't like to have some extra insurance on something like health? Me, that's who!  Maybe you too?

I often pray for good health for my family and loved ones, "Please, LORD, keep  my family healthy and strong.  Please allow me to respond well to the treatments and take this cancer away."  I don't know if this is the right prayer, though.  I think this sort of prayer allows for grand disappointment.

God did tell us there would be trials and sorrows in this sin-soaked world, after all.  He didn't say it would be all gum-drops and pink fluffy unicorns dancing on rainbows (okay, that is from a song....not my own thoughts).

So, I will take this insurance-policy-radiation and pray a new prayer, "God, please be with my family through all this.  Your will, not ours.  Let your insurance policy remind me that You are in control! Maybe my messy life will not get more organized, but help me trust in You through it all.  Help me trust that You have an awesome plan and that this is just part of it."

In the meantime, I have to go do my exercises.

One, two, three, four.....arm lifts.  Followed by the sun-tanner pose.  And then, breath holds....

My left side is being radiated and the radiologist doesn't want to radiate my heart.

"Because radiation causes premature aging!" she chirped at me buoyantly at an appointment.

Yes, thanks for not prematurely aging my heart, I remember thinking sardonically!

".....so..." she continued in a matter-of-fact but way-too-cheerful tone, "....you need to hold your breath to lift your chest up and away from your heart.  That way the radiation will not affect your heart!"  She gestured grandly as she spoke and finished with a bright smile.

I gulped.
"H-hold my breath?" I queried with an eyebrow quirk, "For....for how long?"

"For 30-40 seconds at one time.  And you will have to do those breath holds about six times in a row!" my radiologist answered with another smile.  I have to admit, her upbeat tone, cheer and smile were making this all seem like a relaxing and fun outing at a spa.  Gentle breath holds, sun-tanner posing.......a day at the spa or a yoga class.  Great fun, right?  Relaxing, right?

"Oh, okay...." I remember answering eloquently.  She handed me some papers with breath-hold instructions.  They went something like this:  "Inhale.  Hold Breath.  Keep holding.  Then Exhale."  After reading the instructions, I was confident I could handle this breathing stuff.

So, several times a day or at least once a day, I can be found lying on a floor in my home.  My phone is set to "timer" and is lying beside me.  So are one or two, three or four kids.  If I am lying in a room with Yukon present, he is licking my face and trying to stand on me.  If I am lying in a room with Paul present, he is trying to lick my face too.  Weirdo!!  But cute weirdo!!

I will suck in a deep breath to "lift up that chest" and then hold.

One time, Gwen was beside me, her brown braids splayed out on the floor around her face.  Her mouth was firmly shut but I could distinctly hear her inhaling and exhaling through her nose.  I guess nostrils don't count as breathing holes when you are a kid!
Cheater!  I remember thinking, but didn't say anything at that time, because it was great to have her there beside me.  Supporting me by being with me.

So, I am tattooed, exercised, breath-hold-ready and waiting for the next stage of this cancer treatment.

If you are reading this, I just want to say thanks again for all your support.  Thanks so much for your prayers and cards, messages and meals.  Trials and hardships are so much easier to endure with loved ones along for the ride.  One breath-hold at a time.

"I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace.  In this world you will have trouble.  But take heart!  I have overcome the world."  

John 16: 33

Angels in the Night

I have a story if you have the time.
A story of darkness and intrigue.
A story of cries in the night and angels who hear them.
A story of laughter and friendship, tears and bloodshed.
Have I piqued your interest?  Are you ready for a story?
Settle in.
Grab a tea.
Ready?
Here we go.

Once upon a time, it was a dark and stormy night.  The time was really only a few months ago but it feels like a lifetime ago; this was the time that my life was measured out in chemotherapy treatments.  Eight treatments spaced two weeks apart from each other.  A time of needles, healing poisons inserted directing into my bloodstream, medications to stave off nausea and more needles.  A time of cranium nudity more commonly referred to as "baldness".  

The particular day in which this story unfolds had not been a great day.  I can't remember exactly why....but I can guess.  Maybe this was a particular day in which my VON nurse was very late.  On day three to day ten after each chemo round, I was treated to neupogen shots every morning.  These shots stimulated the growth of white blood cells in my body and were a good thing.  But they were NEEDLES and needles make me feel a little green and icky inside!  The green and icky feelings were what prompted the need for a VON nurse to visit me and give me the shot. I could not do it on my own.  My wonderful, super-MD husband experienced similar feelings towards needles and could not inject me either.  My four amazing, energetic children would probably have loved to stick needles in me but I was quite terrified at the thought of any of them with needles.  I would have come out of that situation resembling a pin-cushion, I'm sure.  A cute, bald pin-cushion and, quite frankly, the world is not ready for that sort of crazy nonsense!

Maybe this was a day when my appointments, needles, medications and current hairless state were just a little too much for me to handle.  You know those days when everything just sort of catches up to you and overwhelms you like a wild wave at some beach, one of those waves with the dangerous undercurrents that pull you under and spin you about so you don't know which way is up....

I was having a bad day.

So when evening came, I laced up my sneaky sneakers, slipped on a jacket and whistled for the dog.  It was time for some Walk-Therapy.

"Yukon, come!" I called out whilst collecting his leash from the mudroom.

He clambered to his feet and pranced excitedly towards me, ears flapping, collar jangling and nails click-clacking.

I clipped the leash to his collar and straightened.

"Hey Paul?  I'm just gonna take the dog for a walk, okay?" I said without much in the way of enthusiasm.

"Okay.  No probs," Paul responded, "you cool?"

"Yeah," I muttered in one of those ways in which I mean the opposite of what I am saying, "I'll be back soon."
I rummaged in our closet for a warm touque.  I had so many new ones to choose from:  a beautifully croqueted one from my mom, a hand-sewn one from my friend, and a knitted one from a woman I didn't even know.  I chose one and popped it on my bare head.  Sighing, I opened the door and walked into the night.

It was dark out, but not the spooky sort of darkness.  Rather that sort of darkness that is warm and inviting, like a cup of hot chocolate.  (actually, that simile doesn't even make much sense but I am going to leave it so we can all ponder how on earth a night can be like hot chocolate.  Maybe it was tasty?  Comforting?  I don't know........let's collectively move on, shall we?)  It was dark out but the streetlights were on and they cast an amber glow in soft, circular patterns spaced evenly apart on the road.   There was a pungent odour of wet leaves in the air.  Car doors slammed.  A mother's voice directed her children to come inside and get ready for bed.  People were busy settling in for the night while my trusty lab and I strode on by.

I took a couple of deep, lung-expanding breaths and felt my tangled insides begin to relax.  The outside does that for me.  Soothes me.  Relaxes me.  Calms.  Me.  Down.

You too?

I like to think it has something to do with me spending a little bit of time closer to my Maker.
Without walls, ceilings or any human-made structure blocking the way.
Just me and Him hanging out in His creation together.

Yukon sniffed at the grass and I realized that I was beginning to feel pretty good.

"Thanks, God," I breathed softly directing my gaze heavenwards and admiring His handiwork there.  Stars glinted brightly.
"I totally needed this tonight.  Thank-you!"

Yukon trotted forward and I began to reminisce about our lab puppy.  He resembled more giant yellow beast than puppy and he was only 5 months old at that time.  He was a beautiful dog with a proud, stately stature and a black freckle on his muzzle.  We had adopted him from a lovely family who breeds labs as a hobby and he had been such a fun addition to our family.  Aside from his black freckle, he was identical to Marley, the dog from John Grogan's best-seller novel starring his beloved, deceased dog.  I just kept praying Yukon's personality would be all quiet and gentle while Marley's had been wild and energetic.   So far, so good, we had all discovered but after two months of owning Yukon, I was diagnosed with cancer.  With our world shaken, puppy-dog training took a back-burner and there were times when we wondered about the timing of our doggy adoption.

Yukon could sit, stay, lie down, shake paws, give high fives and loved to play fetch.  But he also loved to eat parts of our house and to greet family members with an exuberant two-paw thump to the chest.  This is not cute when the thumper is 60 pounds of muscle and slobbery teeth.  We stayed patient with our yellow beast because he was also 60 pounds of joy.  Dogs are so happy.  Maybe because they think it is hilarious that we pick up their poop with Lavender Lace scented poop bags.  I would probably smile more too if someone followed me around doing that....however, let's not test that theory.... Whatever the reason for their deep-seated, internal joy, that sort of happiness was great to have around.  Having Yukon also gave us a further purpose to get outside.

Yukon loves to go on walks.

"Wanna go for a walk?" someone will say in a high-pitched voice and before the sentence has been fully uttered, our dog will be on all fours and ready to hit the sidewalk.

Another great thing about owning a dog is that you really get to meet your neighbours.  Especially the ones with dogs.  In fact, I think you really get to know your neighbour's dogs and are vaguely aware of the names of their owners.
In our neighbourhood, there are many dogs.  There is Oscar, Roxie, Cayman, Jet, Ralph, Simon and Ella.  I have had long chats with the owners of these dogs but I don't know all their names.  That bit of info is lost in the long conversations me and the dog owners would have whereupon we would smile lovingly at our canines and their doggie antics.  The dogs would be eagerly sniffing each other's bums and getting tangled in each other's leashes.  Maybe barking would ensue but most of the time, they would just begin to play, tongues lolling wetly from wide-teeth smiles.  

One particular dog was Jet, a long-haired, white Retriever.  He was a beautiful male dog with a wide, muscular head and long, blond tresses.  Yukon and Jet loved to wrestle if they met each other and Jet's owner and I would chat about our dogs while dodging our bouncing beasts.  We would share doggie diet dishes and collar conundrums.  Eventually our conversations began to broach on family affairs, concerns and cancer.  It's amazing how dogs can bring two strangers together on a street.  Dogs can make the strange familiar.  Yukon and Jet sniffed, licked and played.  Jet's owner and I talked and shared.


But I digress.  
This digression was on purpose, though, so bear with me.  I wanted you to meet Jet and his owner for a reason.  Yukon and I often met Jet and his owner on our walks; they did not live right by us but, rather, about a kilometre away.

Remember my bad day and my good walk?  Let's go back to that part of the story.  It was dark and the storm that was waging had been in my soul.  A tangled snarl of anxiety and negative feelings.  But the fresh air and exercise had been refreshing and I felt a whistle welling up deep inside.

Yukon and I rounded a bend.

Just then, something spooked my dog.  I don't know if he spied a squirrel or if a noise startled him, but suddenly, he bolted.  His leash pulled taut in my grasp as he lunged forward and I was yanked roughly off my feet.  I fell hard, slamming onto the cold, wet sidewalk in a heavy heap.  My touque was knocked off my bald head, my knees throbbed from bashing against the cement and my palms were scratched and bleeding from trying to break my fall.  The impact knocked Yukon's leash from my grasp and he ran headlong into the darkness.

That fall hurt in so many ways.  In the normal way....my knees and palms oozed blood and pulsated with pain.  In a deeper way.  I had had a sucky day.  I was bald and had cancer.  I was just out trying to enjoy a quiet walk to restore my soul.
As I watched my yellow lab disappear into the darkness, a wild, guttural scream ripped from my throat while tears of pain, frustration, anger and desperation spilled over.

"YUUUUUUKKKOON, COME BACK!" I screamed and then began to cry in the darkness of that night.  Flattened, bleeding, bald and feeling so sorry for myself, I began to cry.  My cries were loud and unrestrained.  I couldn't move.  My knees were so sore.  My dog had run away, I was about a kilometre from my home and I had forgotten my cell phone on the counter.

"WAAAAAAAH!"  I cried some more and may even have beat my dirtied, bloody palms against the ground.

And then...

"Brigette....?  Brigette...?  Is that you?"  a soft voice spoke from the shadows.

Through the blur of my tears I saw her.   She crossed the street and with her was her dog.

She saw me lying on the sidewalk and rushed forwards.  

"Goodness!  Are you okay?  I heard you yell Yukon's name and I thought it was you.  Are you okay?"  she repeated as she knelt down beside me.

I sniffled but it felt better to have someone there with me.

"Something scared Yukon and he yanked me off my feet.  I can't move and I don't know where he is....." I cried.

She glanced around and spotted Yukon a little ways off.  He had stopped running and was glancing uncertainly around.

"Come on, Yukon.  Here boy," she called to my lab and he trotted forward curiously.  Once he was close, she grabbed up the leash.  Yukon and her dog, Jet, began to sniff each other by way of  greeting.

"Don't move!!  I'll get help!!   My kids are home and I live right here," she gestured at a white house across the street from where I was lying prone and she whipped out her cell phone.  She speed dialed and when someone answered, she quickly blurted, "It's an emergency!  I need you to come to the street in front of the house right now......!!"

Her front door banged open and two teenaged boys sprinted over.
I adjusted my touque to cover the bald head and wiped at my tear-streaked face and runny nose.

"What's going on?" one of them queried as they tried to make sense of the two romping canines, their mom and another lady who was laying on the sidewalk.

"This is Brigette," she pointed to where I lay.
I waggled my fingers in a weak wave and tried to smile.
"Hey, guys.  Sorry...." I attempted a little light laugh.

"This is Yukon (they glanced towards my yellow panting beast); something scared him and he made Brigette fall.  She's hurt and we have to get her and Yukon home.  Let's get her up."  she directed.

She still had Yukon's leash and she led the two dogs away while her sons moved to my side.

The boys tenderly and carefully helped me up.  Their arms braced me and I looped my arms around their waists so that I could support my weight.  My one knee hurt pretty badly so I kept my arms around them and they led me, limping, across the street.
Deep in the recesses of my ever-chatting inner dialogue a wry voice commented....hey, didn't you  have a dream about this once?  Hahahaha, I responded to my inner dialogue, be quiet! 

Once we were across the street, she had one of her sons take Jet inside and then get her car keys.

"I'm taking you and Yukon home," she told me, "you can't walk like that!  You know," she continued, "I had already taken Jet for a walk today and I didn't want to go out again.  But Jet kept sitting by me and I knew he wanted a walk.  I had just got home when I heard you yell Yukon's name.  I'm so glad I went out for that walk!"

"Me too, Angela!!" I agreed.
Oh!  Did I forget to mention her name before this?  I'm so sorry.  Jet's owner is Angela, but I haven't told you that before now.

Out of the darkness of that night, a cry rang out and blood was shed.  I was helpless and alone.
Somewhere else, a dog prompted a person to go out into the darkness where she could hear and recognize the crying voice.  And lend comfort and help.

A random friendship forged over dogs.
A random prompt to go for another walk.
Just in the right place at the right time?
Nah.
Too many coincidences and I no longer believe in coincidences.
I see it as the Master Conductor weaving together more lives.
Sending out Angels to step forth from the shadows.
To dust me off and pick me up and encourage me to dry my tears.
Because He has heard my wild, guttural cries from the darkness.
He had heard and sent help.

That night, Angela drove me and Yukon home.  She half carried me to my front door, juggling Yukon's leash as she did so.  I knocked.  Paul and my older boys answered the door and were shocked  at my appearance.  My jeans were torn, my touque askew, my palms bleeding and face tear-streaked.  They ushered me in and spent the next hour fetching hot tea and bandaids to patch me up.  We all thanked Angela for helping and driving me home.  I thanked her again a few days later when I saw her and Jet walk by our home.

Out of the darkness, God.  Ordering, organizing, orchestrating.
Be still, O my raging soul.  Be still, O your raging soul.  From fears and anxieties, worries and stresses.
Be still and know that He is directing our lives.
Bringing forth beautiful things from discord.
Be still, and know that He is God, exalted among the nations yet tenderly caring for each of us.

"Be still, and know that I am God.  I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth!" - Psalm 46: 10

A Radioactive Set-Back

There are words and thoughts and phrases that have been singing through my brain for days now.

Floating around until my fingers get the tingle that sends my thoughts onto a page.  I love how they come together like that......often I am having little conversations inside my brain while I am out and about......driving, folding laundry, hiking, walking the dog....sometimes even while I am having actual conversations with people which tends to get awkward and confusing for whoever is attempting to have that out-loud chat with me.

But tonight those words and thoughts and phrases are floating just out of reach....comprehension is not coming out of them.  Maybe it is the after-affects of chemo still.  I hear cancer survivors say this all the time.
"Chemo-brain addles up those thoughts," they say.
Maybe it's the drug that I have begun several weeks ago......the drug I have to be on for the next five years to block my hormones.  See, my particular flavour of cancer is attracted to my gorgeous hormones so they are no longer welcome in my body.  The hormones, that is.  And the cancer.  But the drug has taken up residence.

Tonight I am feeling a bit bogged down.  Sometimes I take a look at myself and a niggling whisper of doubt slips through...."You're being cured, right?  Because this cure has made you bald, sick, hacked up, tired and bogged down.  And you're not even done yet.  Ha!  Sucker!"

These cures for cancer are more than the cancer at times.  Yeah, yeah, I know that they are necessary and needed and helpful but, dang it, they stink!  And hurt!  They are messy and have rotten side-effects.  They befuddle my brain and fill me with a sense of despair for the future.  And no one, and I mean, no one likes a despairing sufferer.  It's so much more comfortable when they are cheerful.

So I will smile for you because I love to be liked.

After weeks of physio with my wonderful personal physiotherapist, Mindy, I had gained extensive arm mobility.  I could reach all the way above my head and was getting pretty good at my sun-tanner's pose.  Laying down, I would fold my hands together behind my head and try to relax my left elbow.  Lymphatic cords were stretched taut under my armpit.  Gently, Mindy would press my elbow down in an attempt to stretch the cords or, better yet, snap them.  She would rearrange my limbs into several other stretches and then give my arm a lymphatic massage.

I would be laying on a bed with her sitting by my side.  She would pick up my left arm and hold my hand, rubbing my arm down towards my shoulder.

"I use about the same pressure as you would if you were petting a cat," Mindy commented as she continued her massage.

This was the soothing part of my physio and I allowed my tongue to loll out with contentment.

Hearing the word "cat" seemed to beckon forth my fluffy feline, Kit-Kat.  She leapt onto the bed and began purring vigorously as she walked onto my prone form.  She curiously sniffed at my armpit, sat down on my chest and lifted a paw to begin grooming.  She was completely in the way but was oblivious in the way that cats are.
Do you have a cat?
If so, I am sure you know what I mean!  We used to have a cat that would head butt any book I was reading so that I kept losing my place.  He also loved to hop up on the computer desk to try to rub up against me while I worked; I would not be able to see the computer screen and his tail kept tickling my nose.  Kit-Kat appears instantly every-time Mindy is helping me with my physio exercises.
"Mew," Kit-Kat will announce as she hops quietly up onto the bed and sashays towards me, always eventually sitting right on top of me.

The lymphatic cords that would not allow me to straighten my arm are almost all snapped now, thanks to the dedicated efforts of Mindy!  There were about 5 or 6 stretched tight in the inside of my elbow....only 2 small ones remain.

I am supposed to be doing arm exercises to compliment all my physio; I am supposed to be doing these exercises two to three times a day but I often forget.  A good friend of mine took it upon herself to assist me with this with daily reminders!

BUZZ!  CHIRP!  (those are my phone noises)

"Did you do your exercises?" texts my friend or "1&2&3&4.  Are you done yet?"

These reminders have been uber helpful.  Usually each text is followed by me grabbing a nearby hockey stick and vigorously exercising!  Thankfully we have seven million hockey sticks and they are always nearby like some weird type of hockey gravity thing.

So when my mom picked me up last Friday to attend my Radiation Planning Appointment, I felt ready.  And sure.  And stuff.

We arrived at the Juravinski Centre - a part of my healing landscape once again - and made our way into the bowels of the centre.  The radiation clinics are all located downstairs.  We were quickly called through and sat down with a radiation lady and a young, male intern.

"Blah blah blah blah blah," explained the radiation lady while I bobbed my head up and down to denote deep understanding.
"Mmm hmm, mmm hmm," I would comment at key moments, usually during small pauses because this seemed to be the right time.
Then we got to the tattoo part.  I was super excited about this part.  See, radiation means you get tattoos.  Four, in my case.

".....and then we will place the tattoos on your chest..." Radiation Lady continued drily.

"Do I get a skull tattoo?" I exploded with way too much excitement for a radiation room.  Heads turned our way, "I mean, how many people have their mom come with them to get a tattoo?" I continued, grinning broadly.  Mom smiled back.

Radiation Lady and Male Intern tittered.  Tittered!  Who actually does that anymore, anyways?

After they tittered at me, I acknowledged that I didn't really think I could get a skull tattoo nor did I actually want a skull tattoo, I was just sort of excited about being tattooed.

"So, the tattoos are really just the size of a freckle and then blah blah blah...." Radiation Lady continued.

Then I was led to a room to change into a hospital gown.  I hurriedly stripped from the waist up and then narrowed my gaze at the pile of neatly folded, blue-patterned gowns.  I sighed.

Which way did they have to go on again?  Why couldn't I remember what Radiation Lady said?  Argh!!!  I slipped the gown on and sauntered over to the radiation room.

"Uh... your gown is on the wrong way!" Radiation Lady announced without any preamble.

"Of course it is," I muttered, spinning around and stalking back to the dressing room.  These gowns have become my fashion nemesis.  I always wear them wrong.

Once I was adequately bedecked, I was laid down on a narrow bed in front of a giant, donut-shaped machine.  This was the machine that would scan me.

Someone reached over and flipped my blue-patterned gown down.  I was bare from the waist up.  Radiation Lady, Male Intern and another woman stood above me.  I badly wanted to cover my chest.  My scar and poor remaining breast were exposed.  Just like that, I was a body on a bed.  My face flamed with the indignity of it and I could not look at the young intern beside me.  Twenty-three, he had said he was.  Gazing down at my body with a clinical eye, sizing up the scars.

I wanted to smirk at the awkwardness of it all, maybe make some funny or flippant remark but none came to mind.  My teeth clenched and I felt hot tears welling up.

Radiation Lady reached for my left arm and began positioning it above my head.  There were two stirrup-like thingies there for my arm and hand to be cradled in.  Except my arm did not want to stretch enough to reach them.  Radiation Lady tried again and I could sort-of get my arm into place but those lymphatic cords were so tight and it was not a sustainable position.

Radiation Lady, extra woman and Male Intern concurred, "It's not a sustainable position for the half hour needed for the scans to occur."
They called in two other people:  "She is so close.  Her arm needs to be just a little higher.  This position is not sustainable."

One woman leaned in close.  She had a beautiful English accent, stylish, short brown hair and friendly, dark eyes.  "We need your arm to be higher so we will have to reschedule this appointment.  But don't you worry," she reached down and covered my chest with the gown.  I sighed with relief as she continued, "You will be back here in about a week and it will all be okay.  Don't be upset with yourself; just keep doing your exercises and your arm mobility will get there in no time!"  She helped me sit up.

I got dressed, balled up that hospital gown and threw it.  Walked towards my mom in the waiting room.  Her eyebrows raised inquisitively.

"My arm mobility isn't good enough yet," I explained, "I hafta come back in a week."

"Oh, okay," my mom responded and gathered up her things.  "Want to go get some lunch?"

"Yes, mom, I do." I said.

Sometimes in life, there are set-backs.  Sometimes they are annoying or hard or depressing. Sometimes they involve radiation.  But when they occur, hanging out with a loved one is a wonderful thing to do.


(Thank you for listening or reading along......your patience has lifted me up.)

"The steadfast love of the LORD never ceases (even in the middle of cancer and radioactive set-backs); his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.  'The LORD is my portion', says my soul, 'therefore I hope in him.'"  

Lamentations 3: 22-24

What a Mess!

These past days have been so gloriously sunny.  On Monday, my kids and I went to piano lessons. Those of us who did not have lessons made a snowman, a snow dog and a snow mouse on half of the teacher's lawn while tiny purple crocuses stretched up on the other half of the lawn.

Crocuses bursting forth into spring.

Bravely, even while snow coated and layered down in a heavy, mushy slushy blanket a short distance away.   Don't you just love crocuses?.....they don't just tentatively grow or peek up little green shoots, but they pop out into full bloom on that first great and sunny day even while snow is still all around!

While the snow has been melting away, our children have celebrated by breaking out their shorts, t-shirts and flip-flops.  My four-year old was so excited; he has been trying to sneak those flip-flops on all winter!  Nothing like flip-flopping through knee deep snow.

All four kids followed by one giant yellow lab sailed out the back door into spring!  They were greeted with warm sunshine, greening grass and that moist pungent odor of doggie doo-doo.

"Quick, everyone, get back here and get some poop bags!" I ordered frantically and unrolled several pink-patterned, lightly scented poop bags.  I love these bags.  They are pretty enough to be party favours at a girlie birthday party and they come in sweet smells like "Vanilla Bean" or "Lavender Lace".  Did someone tell them their ultimate destination or did they only realize it as they descended down to do doo-doo duty?  Poor poop bags.

Four children ran and flip-flopped back to me at the back door and each donned a poop bag on their hand.

"It's like a treasure hunt!" I always say but they no longer get caught up in the excitement of this game.  I don't know why not!?

After several poops were successfully scooped, our kids ran around the backyard with reckless abandon.  As if rediscovering each corner.  The sandbox claimed two of them and they dug and shaped the sand into kingdoms.  Two other ones found the eight million balls and hockey pucks that we lose in snow banks over the course of the winter.   One yellow dog raced up and down and all around the yard like a crazy, frenzied fiend, dirt spraying up from his racing paws.  They all looked so happy but all I could see was mess.  Yucky sandy fingernails, mud soaked shoes and muddy paws.  Someone slipped and the dog raced over to investigate and lick lick lick.  Ugh, I thought, more laundry.  Gross gross gross.  I began to fell annoyed and angry.  This mess meant more work for me.....more laundry which I never can catch up on.  In fact, several heaping loads were just waiting to be folded upstairs....every time I passed by them they would call out to me....

"Foooold us....fooooold us!!!" pieces of laundry would plead and I even think I saw a t-shirt lift its armless sleeves towards me plaintively the last time I walked by and pretended I didn't see it...

More laundry.  Dirty shoes to clean.  Hair to wash.  Muddy pawed window to scrub.  And, ugh....the dog.....he was gleefully racing about with ears turned inside out...but he was FILTHY!  SANDY!  ICKY! GROSS!

Ever have moments like this?
The mess is more than the moment.
I couldn't enjoy the sun because I was mired in the messiness of it all.

My life is like that right now.

I'm having trouble seeing some of the sunshine because I am contemplating the messy clean-up.  And it is so much work.  And I am so tired.
Maybe you are too.

I read this this morning from Jeremiah 17: 7, 8:
"Blessed is the one who trusts in the LORD, whose trust is the LORD.  He is like a tree planted by water, that sends out its roots by the stream, and does not fear when heat comes, for its leaves remain green, and is not anxious in the year of drought, for it does not cease to bear fruit.  "

Is my trust IN the LORD?
Is my trust the LORD?
I don't know but I am certainly going to keep on praying.  Keep on trusting in His plan.
I know the kids and the dog were able to feel so recklessly joyful because they did not have to worry about messy cleanup.  I get that blatantly obvious fact.  But maybe they could help with cleanup.   Many hands, right?  Maybe I could worry about cleanup later and enjoy the mess now.

I think I will step boldly out into that sunshine pouring down like heavenly rays from above and feel its warmth for a while.

It's a Beautiful Trial

What is troubling you today?
What trial?
What tribulation?

Gut-gurgling grief got you paralyzed?
Has despair knocked you to your knees?
Shame?
Embarrassment?
Do you feel insecure about your decisions, yourself, your life?
Has disappointment crept in and stolen your joy?
Do you feel broken?

Moments like these provide the space and place for layers of love to be lathered on you.  Like glue. To piece you together again.

I hope that you do not feel alone in your walk of life.  You are not.

God has certainly surrounded me and my family with so many wonderful people.....parents, family, friends, church family, neighbours....and they have been my glue.  My layers of love.

With them by my side, I feel a little less broken.  A little more secure.  A little more able to move forward.  

Recently, I've been asked to speak more about this at a women's conference.  It's a beautiful thing to see how a community can cloister around a person or a family in their time of need.  It's a beautiful thing to be helped.  It's a beautiful thing to help.

If you want to learn more about or register for this conference, check it out at : wowcanrc.wordpress.com


"From (Christ) the whole body, joined and held together by every supporting ligament, grows and builds itself up in love, as each part does it's work."  Ephesians 4: 16


Some deets:
Women of Worth Conference @ Redeemer University College in Hamilton
Deadline to register for an overnight stay is Monday, March 7
Deadline to register for Friday night or Saturday attendance only is March 25