If you read my post about a month ago entitled "Yesterday" you know that my husband, Tony, suffered a pretty severe back injury a while ago. The last few weeks have consisted of every type of "therapy" that has been recommended to us including spinal inversion therapy and magnet therapy. He talks about Aaron like he's his new best friend (Aaron is his chiropractor) and he can now recite, from memory, the dialogue in every TV commercial known to man. He hasn't been able to walk, much less work, we had to cancel our favourite annual holiday to Texada Island, I'm pulling double duty around the house which included shovelling 12 storms worth of snow and just when I thought it couldn't suck more... it did.
I truly was beginning to question God and His wisdom on keeping humans on the planet. Why on earth would he tolerate us... we are so weak, fallible and sometimes, I'm sorry to say, not very nice.
Being the person I am, I was ruminating these thoughts, over and over, as I was on my way to Langley to pick up some office supplies at Staples. Of course, considering the mood I was in, it was completely fitting that it was pouring rain. I was loading everything out of my store buggy when an older gentleman (who, by the way, looked exactly like my Uncle Ed) came up to me and said, "I'll take that buggy back if you'd like." "Sure" I said, thinking that he needed a buggy for his shopping. So glad to get out of the rain, I got into my van and just happened to glance back and I saw the man take my buggy and put it in the buggy storage in front of the store. Then he went inside. He didn't even need a buggy. He did that just for me... a complete stranger in the parking lot.
That simple act of kindness hit me like a ton of bricks. I couldn't believe how it lifted my spirits and made me realize there is still goodness and good people in the world.
I came seriously close to going inside the store and giving him a huge hug but I knew that would just confirm that I was becoming unglued (and probably a bit scary)! Instead I thanked God for the Good Samaritan He gave me that day and vowed that I would pass it on. A simple, random act of kindness that, for me, that day, was not simple at all.
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Friday, December 26, 2008
Boxing Day
It's Boxing Day today.
I have always found the origins of this day to be very interesting. There are many theories as to how this day came to be... from church clergy smashing open the alms boxes to give the money inside to the poor to the Lord of the Manor filling boxes with necessities & gifts to give to all his household servants, serfs and tenants. During the two World Wars it was customary that, on this one day, the Army Officers of Commonwealth countries would trade places with the enlisted men. I'm sure that was an interesting experience for everyone!
Whatever story you believe you can see the common thread running through them all. It was a day to give to the less fortunate and to treat them like you would like to be treated yourself.
So......can someone tell me what happened?
How did it become the day of the year that we spend the most money on ourselves?
I have always found the origins of this day to be very interesting. There are many theories as to how this day came to be... from church clergy smashing open the alms boxes to give the money inside to the poor to the Lord of the Manor filling boxes with necessities & gifts to give to all his household servants, serfs and tenants. During the two World Wars it was customary that, on this one day, the Army Officers of Commonwealth countries would trade places with the enlisted men. I'm sure that was an interesting experience for everyone!
Whatever story you believe you can see the common thread running through them all. It was a day to give to the less fortunate and to treat them like you would like to be treated yourself.
So......can someone tell me what happened?
How did it become the day of the year that we spend the most money on ourselves?
Thursday, December 18, 2008
Yesterday
Life is good. Life is fine. I am making my list, checking it twice. Everything is going according to plan, it's going to be a great Christmas.... and then Tony bent over to tie his shoes.
Seriously. That's all it took to turn my nice organized week into upheaval.
By Wednesday morning it was apparent that he was not going to get better without some significant help from the medical profession. The trouble was he couldn't even stand up, let alone get in the truck....hmmmm....
....the paramedics I called were very nice when they came to the house and actually got him to crack a smile as he crawled down the hall on all fours. They joked that obviously he had been working with animals for way too long. They managed to get him on the stretcher and I said I would soon follow. I watched the ambulance drive away as the first flakes of snow started to fall. Great... I hate snow....
..... I white-knuckled it to the Hospital, paid an exorbitant amount for the priviledge of parking at the Emergency room (do you hear the irony in my voice?) and found my pain-racked husband lying in a depressing, curtained-off cubicle. Maybe, I hoped against hope, a doctor has seen him already.....
.... two hours later a frazzled doctor whips the curtain open, apologizing profusely for taking so long. "That's OK", I say. Meanwhile I have been resisting the urge to grab some morphine and a needle and administer it to him myself. "Let's see what we can do to make you more comfortable." she says to Tony. I want to kiss her feet....
.... three hours later he is so comfortable he actually forgets who I am and asks me out on a date. At least he still thinks I'm cute....
.... 1 hour later I have developed a whole new appreciation for the Nursing profession as I watch them deal with an elderly man obviously suffering from dementia. He has already been "fixed up" and is beyond ready to go home. I know exactly how he feels. For the 27th time a nurse tracks him down as he makes his escape. "Mr. Crick," the Nurse says "you need to sit in your chair till your wife comes to pick you up." "When is my wife coming?" he says. "Soon," the Nurse says. "In June?!" exclaims Mr. Crick. Although unintentional, Mr. Crick, provided the only joy in our day.
.... two hours later we are still waiting to see "if the meds worked" and for a written prescription from Doctor Frazzle. I have to tell myself to be patient but, now, even I am getting bored and I never get bored. At least Mr. Crick is still there.
.... finally, finally our wait is over and we get to go home. As I get the truck I contemplate the now near blizzard conditions. It's going to be a long trip home.
.... 1 long hour later, reaching 'break-neck' speeds of 20kph, we are finally home. Tony is sleeping and I am now contemplating the day and marvelling that day after day, I think that, by ordering and check-marking, I am in control.
I am not and, after yesterday, I am really thankful that God is.
Seriously. That's all it took to turn my nice organized week into upheaval.
By Wednesday morning it was apparent that he was not going to get better without some significant help from the medical profession. The trouble was he couldn't even stand up, let alone get in the truck....hmmmm....
....the paramedics I called were very nice when they came to the house and actually got him to crack a smile as he crawled down the hall on all fours. They joked that obviously he had been working with animals for way too long. They managed to get him on the stretcher and I said I would soon follow. I watched the ambulance drive away as the first flakes of snow started to fall. Great... I hate snow....
..... I white-knuckled it to the Hospital, paid an exorbitant amount for the priviledge of parking at the Emergency room (do you hear the irony in my voice?) and found my pain-racked husband lying in a depressing, curtained-off cubicle. Maybe, I hoped against hope, a doctor has seen him already.....
.... two hours later a frazzled doctor whips the curtain open, apologizing profusely for taking so long. "That's OK", I say. Meanwhile I have been resisting the urge to grab some morphine and a needle and administer it to him myself. "Let's see what we can do to make you more comfortable." she says to Tony. I want to kiss her feet....
.... three hours later he is so comfortable he actually forgets who I am and asks me out on a date. At least he still thinks I'm cute....
.... 1 hour later I have developed a whole new appreciation for the Nursing profession as I watch them deal with an elderly man obviously suffering from dementia. He has already been "fixed up" and is beyond ready to go home. I know exactly how he feels. For the 27th time a nurse tracks him down as he makes his escape. "Mr. Crick," the Nurse says "you need to sit in your chair till your wife comes to pick you up." "When is my wife coming?" he says. "Soon," the Nurse says. "In June?!" exclaims Mr. Crick. Although unintentional, Mr. Crick, provided the only joy in our day.
.... two hours later we are still waiting to see "if the meds worked" and for a written prescription from Doctor Frazzle. I have to tell myself to be patient but, now, even I am getting bored and I never get bored. At least Mr. Crick is still there.
.... finally, finally our wait is over and we get to go home. As I get the truck I contemplate the now near blizzard conditions. It's going to be a long trip home.
.... 1 long hour later, reaching 'break-neck' speeds of 20kph, we are finally home. Tony is sleeping and I am now contemplating the day and marvelling that day after day, I think that, by ordering and check-marking, I am in control.
I am not and, after yesterday, I am really thankful that God is.
Sunday, November 9, 2008
"Please Protect Daddy Today"
When my husband is not working, or taking care of us, he is in the mountains. He loves the mountains. The trouble with this is that he has to get there somehow. Sometimes, when I know he will be travelling a particular treacherous route, I wish that I could just snap my fingers and he would be there safely. Then, a week later, snap them again and he'd be home.
Unfortunately that only happens in the movies.
So, since my girls were able to talk, we have taught them to pray..."God, please protect Daddy today."
I'm sorry to say that that prayer has become rote and too familiar. I've said the words so many times over the past 27 years I've barely remembered what I've been praying for. So God, in His infinite wisdom, decided to give me a small reminder (and then another....)
About a month ago Tony was coming home from a hunting trip near Hedley. He spent two days travelling the high mountain roads and then made the trip back home on the Coquihalla Highway. For those of you who aren't from British Columbia, the "Coq" is a mountain highway notorious for very long steep grades and eating up cars for breakfast. Tony made his way down the mountain without a mishap and through the Fraser Valley on the #1 Freeway. He turned onto our street, put on his left turn signal to turn into our driveway, stepped on the brake and... nothing. The pedal went to the floor. Using the emergency brake he managed to keep the truck on the road, avoid oncoming traffic and squeak into our driveway.
Ever time I think about his trip home and that last moment I cringe. The long hills that he went down, the speeding freeway traffic and the high cliffs in the middle of nowhere....the brakes could have failed anywhere on that trip and it happened at our driveway. I was so grateful that he came home safe and sound but I am embarrassed to admit that I don't remember praying for his safety that day.
I guess the Holy Spirit began to speak to me then. "I should write about this," I thought but nothing came of it. I stepped back into my daily existence far too easily.
Then yesterday morning I got an email from my friend Joan. This is what she wrote:
It's Saturday morning at 10:30. Werner just called me. He and Steve left late last night to go hunting up by Bowron Lakes (behind Barkerville). They expected the trip to take about 8 hours. They were almost at their destination when Werner fell asleep at the wheel, which he has never done before. Steve was sleeping and they were travelling about 70 to 80 km per hour. The truck went off the road, spun around, but didn't roll. Werner and Steve are both unhurt even though the truck is totalled. He has photos and says that's it's amazing that they weren't hurt or killed. He believes that it wasn't his time yet, and that it's only God's protection that kept him and Steve safe. I think it's a gift from God too, and I'm very thankful.
I was overwhelmed after I read Joan's email and I was reminded once again of how much God loves us and protects us and how easy it is to forget that when all is going well, when your loved ones come home, time after time, trip after trip. My daily little prayers... thanks for the food, thank You for my family, bring Tony home safe... have been said without much conviction because I had lost sight of how important even those small prayers really are. Fortunately, for us, our God loves and protects us when we don't deserve it and we haven't really talked to Him in days.
Tony, Werner and Steve... so thankful you're home safe.
Unfortunately that only happens in the movies.
So, since my girls were able to talk, we have taught them to pray..."God, please protect Daddy today."
I'm sorry to say that that prayer has become rote and too familiar. I've said the words so many times over the past 27 years I've barely remembered what I've been praying for. So God, in His infinite wisdom, decided to give me a small reminder (and then another....)
About a month ago Tony was coming home from a hunting trip near Hedley. He spent two days travelling the high mountain roads and then made the trip back home on the Coquihalla Highway. For those of you who aren't from British Columbia, the "Coq" is a mountain highway notorious for very long steep grades and eating up cars for breakfast. Tony made his way down the mountain without a mishap and through the Fraser Valley on the #1 Freeway. He turned onto our street, put on his left turn signal to turn into our driveway, stepped on the brake and... nothing. The pedal went to the floor. Using the emergency brake he managed to keep the truck on the road, avoid oncoming traffic and squeak into our driveway.
Ever time I think about his trip home and that last moment I cringe. The long hills that he went down, the speeding freeway traffic and the high cliffs in the middle of nowhere....the brakes could have failed anywhere on that trip and it happened at our driveway. I was so grateful that he came home safe and sound but I am embarrassed to admit that I don't remember praying for his safety that day.
I guess the Holy Spirit began to speak to me then. "I should write about this," I thought but nothing came of it. I stepped back into my daily existence far too easily.
Then yesterday morning I got an email from my friend Joan. This is what she wrote:
It's Saturday morning at 10:30. Werner just called me. He and Steve left late last night to go hunting up by Bowron Lakes (behind Barkerville). They expected the trip to take about 8 hours. They were almost at their destination when Werner fell asleep at the wheel, which he has never done before. Steve was sleeping and they were travelling about 70 to 80 km per hour. The truck went off the road, spun around, but didn't roll. Werner and Steve are both unhurt even though the truck is totalled. He has photos and says that's it's amazing that they weren't hurt or killed. He believes that it wasn't his time yet, and that it's only God's protection that kept him and Steve safe. I think it's a gift from God too, and I'm very thankful.
I was overwhelmed after I read Joan's email and I was reminded once again of how much God loves us and protects us and how easy it is to forget that when all is going well, when your loved ones come home, time after time, trip after trip. My daily little prayers... thanks for the food, thank You for my family, bring Tony home safe... have been said without much conviction because I had lost sight of how important even those small prayers really are. Fortunately, for us, our God loves and protects us when we don't deserve it and we haven't really talked to Him in days.
Tony, Werner and Steve... so thankful you're home safe.
Thank you, thank you God.
Monday, October 20, 2008
Payback?
It's 1975. I'm 15 and head-over-heals in love with a very cute, long-haired boy. My best friend and I are on a double date with him and his best friend. It doesn't get much better than this. Young and free...a teenager in love in the summer time. Then the truck broke down.
To make a very long story short, I got home at 1am that night. Now you have to remember that this was the age before cell phones and, where we were, there wasn't even a phone booth. To the guys credit they did try to use the phone at one house, but they didn't exactly look like the Hardy Boys. I wouldn't have opened the door for them either.
When I finally did get home I saw that the house was completely dark. "Great," I thought, "Maybe I can sneak in and mom will never know that I was in way past curfew." I quietly entered the basement and made it up the first flight of stairs, carefully stepping to avoid the squeaky spots. I rounded the corner, past the dark livingroom, to continue up the next flight when, from the dark shadows of the livingroom, I heard the unmistakable sound of my mother quietly clearing her throat. It's a sound I will never forget.
So busted.
I was grounded for one month... I think I got a day for every horrible scenario my mother imagined that night as she sat there in the dark.
Fast forward to a week ago. My parents, now in their late sixties, have gone on a trip of lifetime. They have wanted to go to Nashville and the Grand Ole Opry for as long as I can remember. Finally they were getting their chance. They even rented a limousine to pick them up at home and drive them to the airport. They could hardly wait.
Before they left mom said, "Check your email often OK? We'll make sure to stay in touch." Perfect.
They left at 4am Thursday morning. On Saturday we were at my brother's place. "Have you heard from mom & dad?" he asked. "No," I said. "It's wierd that we haven't. Dad has his Blackberry with him all the time." Hmmm.... A few days later I emailed them. "Where are you?" I asked. "Hope you're having fun." No response. A week after they left I am checking my email every 10 minutes. Thursday night I can't fall asleep. Every time I closed my eyes I imagined every kind of horrible scenario and believe me I have a very vivid imagination. It was not pretty. By 1 am I am convinced that the limo driver was deranged and he tied them up and left them in the crawlspace of their house!!
I got up, knowing I would never sleep, and sat in my dark livingroom for a while. What should I do? What if something really did happen to them? Then I remembered that mom gave me their hotel phone numbers in case of an emergency. As far as I was concerned this was an emergency. I'm calling Tennessee!
The hotel lady was very nice and understanding as I babbled on (it's now 3am) about not knowing where my parents were. "I don't need to talk to them, you don't need to wake them up, I just need to know that they checked in, that's all." She clicked away on her computer for a few seconds and then said the words that set my world back in order. "Yes, they're here. Safe and sound."
It's funny how that night in 1975 was the first thing I thought of when I finally crawled back into bed. A little perspective? Or maybe a whole lot of payback? Whatever. When they get home they're grounded!
To make a very long story short, I got home at 1am that night. Now you have to remember that this was the age before cell phones and, where we were, there wasn't even a phone booth. To the guys credit they did try to use the phone at one house, but they didn't exactly look like the Hardy Boys. I wouldn't have opened the door for them either.
When I finally did get home I saw that the house was completely dark. "Great," I thought, "Maybe I can sneak in and mom will never know that I was in way past curfew." I quietly entered the basement and made it up the first flight of stairs, carefully stepping to avoid the squeaky spots. I rounded the corner, past the dark livingroom, to continue up the next flight when, from the dark shadows of the livingroom, I heard the unmistakable sound of my mother quietly clearing her throat. It's a sound I will never forget.
So busted.
I was grounded for one month... I think I got a day for every horrible scenario my mother imagined that night as she sat there in the dark.
Fast forward to a week ago. My parents, now in their late sixties, have gone on a trip of lifetime. They have wanted to go to Nashville and the Grand Ole Opry for as long as I can remember. Finally they were getting their chance. They even rented a limousine to pick them up at home and drive them to the airport. They could hardly wait.
Before they left mom said, "Check your email often OK? We'll make sure to stay in touch." Perfect.
They left at 4am Thursday morning. On Saturday we were at my brother's place. "Have you heard from mom & dad?" he asked. "No," I said. "It's wierd that we haven't. Dad has his Blackberry with him all the time." Hmmm.... A few days later I emailed them. "Where are you?" I asked. "Hope you're having fun." No response. A week after they left I am checking my email every 10 minutes. Thursday night I can't fall asleep. Every time I closed my eyes I imagined every kind of horrible scenario and believe me I have a very vivid imagination. It was not pretty. By 1 am I am convinced that the limo driver was deranged and he tied them up and left them in the crawlspace of their house!!
I got up, knowing I would never sleep, and sat in my dark livingroom for a while. What should I do? What if something really did happen to them? Then I remembered that mom gave me their hotel phone numbers in case of an emergency. As far as I was concerned this was an emergency. I'm calling Tennessee!
The hotel lady was very nice and understanding as I babbled on (it's now 3am) about not knowing where my parents were. "I don't need to talk to them, you don't need to wake them up, I just need to know that they checked in, that's all." She clicked away on her computer for a few seconds and then said the words that set my world back in order. "Yes, they're here. Safe and sound."
It's funny how that night in 1975 was the first thing I thought of when I finally crawled back into bed. A little perspective? Or maybe a whole lot of payback? Whatever. When they get home they're grounded!
Thursday, October 2, 2008
Object Lessons
When I was in Sunday School I loved it when the teacher would use the flannelgraph to illustrate her story. David & Goliath, Moses in the basket... I can still see those images in my mind.
I remember so vividly my 10th grade Social Studies teacher, climbing on his desk, brandishing a sword, as he told us about the battle at the Plains of Abraham. Go ahead, ask me about that day in history and see if I don't remember.
During any family vacation my father, a 6th grade teacher, would pull over at every 'point of interest' sign. We would look at whatever it was that we stopped for and dad would make sure to point out all the things he felt we should know and learn.
When Jesus saw the poor woman give her last two coins into the treasury he took the opportunity teach his disciples about giving sacrificially. They saw the woman and they saw her sacrifice first hand.
Object lessons.... life is full of them if we take the time to look.
I remember so vividly my 10th grade Social Studies teacher, climbing on his desk, brandishing a sword, as he told us about the battle at the Plains of Abraham. Go ahead, ask me about that day in history and see if I don't remember.
During any family vacation my father, a 6th grade teacher, would pull over at every 'point of interest' sign. We would look at whatever it was that we stopped for and dad would make sure to point out all the things he felt we should know and learn.
When Jesus saw the poor woman give her last two coins into the treasury he took the opportunity teach his disciples about giving sacrificially. They saw the woman and they saw her sacrifice first hand.
Object lessons.... life is full of them if we take the time to look.
The other day I was doing a little geocaching and it brought me to one of the coolest things I've seen in a long time. I thought... if ever there was an object lesson for my life, at this time, this is it. As I looked at this picture of resiliance and strength in the middle of adversity, I realized that I needed the reminder that who I am is because of what I've been through. My trials and struggles have shaped me into the person I am today. I cannot remove them, they are a part of me and my life, but I can decide to grow in spite of them.
Take a look at the object lesson God gave me today.
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
An Unexpected Gift
My friends and I just spent a wonderful week in Fairmont Hotsprings in the Kootenays of British Columbia. We planned each day carefully, making sure that we each got our "princess day" and that there was lots of time for geocaching, shopping, eating and hiking. Did I mention that we did a LOT of eating?Then one afternoon, during a very "unplanned" spur of the moment, we decided to go for a quick hike, just before dinner, to find a cache that was hidden not too far from our resort.
The hike was not too hard, the air was warm and still and as we got closer to the cache co-ordinates we couldn't help but notice the growing cliffs on both sides of us. Then we saw it... this waterfall that looked like something that you would see in a National Geographic magazine. The pool underneath the waterfall was aqua blue and we soon realized that the water was warm. The falls themselves were as warm as a shower and the temptation to jump right in was irresistable. We went in...all of us...clothes and all.
What a magical moment that was for us. The excitement of being impetuous and spontaneous. We revelled in it until we were water-logged and all prune-y. I didn't want to leave. It was a 'once-in-a-lifetime-I-will-probably-never-do-this-again' experience.
Have you ever had someone beckon to you, whispering, saying "Come over here... I have something special to show you?" Do you say just a minute? It made me wonder how many times God has a gift to give me and I've been too organized to notice. I have a very busy schedule you know, things to do and places to be...
By the way... we never did find the cache that brought us there in the first place. And you know what that cache was called?
Kumbaya.
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