5 minutes to Happiness?

I just finished reading an article here -http://www.chatelaine.com/en/blog/post/34828--do-this-five-minutes-a-day-to-be-happier.

It states that you can be happier in just 5 minutes a day.

Now today was not a "happy" day for me.  Maybe it was the negative ions in the air, or the chemical reactions in our family that caused all kinds of minor reverberations.  But I can tell you without a shadow of a doubt that I was one tense, snappish lady today, and I am very, very, hard on myself when I get that way.  I don't like myself in that mood and then when others around me get snappish too, it can ugly very quickly.

I think it started with a sense of unease for me, wondering if I am loved, appreciated...(silly, but very real)...and that feeling pushes me into an unhappy place.  It colors my thinking, blue.  It shades the way I hear people talk to me and how I perceive those around me are behaving.  It is a slippery slope from then on, sliding, I'm afraid only downward.

So, I was fascinated again, as I am by any article on happiness or gratitude, that this one points out, as others have, that what we focus on grows -

" “There’s something called a downward spiral and an upward spiral. When people are really down and really depressed, their minds drifts in that direction. At any given day there are good things going on and bad things going on and when you’re depressed, you see the bad things faster than you would the good things going on,” he says. “But research has also shown that it goes in the other direction — when you’re in a positive place, it works as well.”" (quoted from aforementioned article)

Aha, I think to myself, here it is again.  Just like "One Thousand Gifts" by Ann Voskamp, now a beloved book of mine, there it is, intentional gratitude, something to be cultivated, practiced.  It is a deliberate turning away from the disheartening and focusing instead on the things that are good, and lovely, the many things I can be thankful for.

This is not to deny, or pretend we do not have genuine things that cause us to lament or grieve! It is not to stuff away or bury that which burdens us -  it is, however, a genuine time of looking up, a time of turning towards.  It is a time to hunt for the blessings, the positives, the gifts all around me.

And so, this is what I choose to do now - before the day is done and darkness descends and sleep is the land I travel to.

I am thankful for air, crisp, cold and clear.

I am thankful for gentle snowfall, covering the barren earth, a blanket, bringing beauty.

I am thankful for the quiet moments I had today to reflect and revise my thinking.

I am thankful that I can read!  Oh, how I love reading!  Oh, how it teaches me so much!

I am so very thankful for my family, even on days when we are sandpaper to each other - this is how we grow, learn, change - offer grace and forgiveness to one another.

I am thankful that tomorrow is indeed, another day,  that I can start again, fresh.

I am thankful that I was able to get some errands done today.

I am so thankful that tomorrow is Party Day with my side of the family!!! - that I can celebrate those whom I love so very much.  I am thankful we can be together.

Oh, it's true, it's true, I do feel better!!!

What about you?  What are you grateful for?

And for more fascinating reading on happiness, check out Gretchen Rubin's "The Happiness Project" another great source for all things happiness.



SnananOne Thousand Gifts"a

Enough

Enough,

I've had enough.

And I want it to,

Stop.

Right now.

So many of

those I love,

so many, so

very precious,

so very dear,

struggling,

suffering.

Please,

let it

Stop.

Now.

Please.

Christmas Day

The day starts.

Not badly,  but not great either.

Our daughter comes into our bedroom.  She is upset because she couldn't sleep last night.  We hug her, whisper, murmur reassurances.  She is afraid that she will be sick and Christmas will be ruined.  But, she is O.K.

Nana is downstairs already, so we come down briefly say "Merry Christmas."

Then daughter and I and Molly head up to wake up sonny boy.  Molly leaps on him, wildly happy to see him, licking his face in ecstatic abandon.  He is cajoled, slowly but surely awake, time to join the family, come downstairs and begin the Christmas rituals.

I go down again, while sweet girl waits for her brother.  They must proceed down the stairs with Daddy filming their descent. This is the tradition.

I find Nana, she is crying.  She is missing her hubby - now gone for the second Christmas.  I hold her, tell her it's alright, wrap her in whatever comfort I can give.

The kids come down, their procession charged with the excitement this morning always brings. We open stockings.

Then it is time for the Christmas story.

The real reason we celebrate this day.  Christ born to us.  A gift.  So precious. Inestimable.  A Savior born this day.  For  me, for you.  For all of us.  Everyone. Every, single, one, of us.  For don`t we need saving everyday, every moment? Don`t we all need to know that Christ`s love is bigger than anything we could ever face?  His Love, love that is bigger than any wrong done to us or wrong we have committed.

I read quietly, clearly, with voice lifted, this Christmas story. It is about my Jesus, clothed in swaddling clothes, wrapped in helplessness, so that He could offer help to all of us so helpless.  Wrap us in strength for each day.  Wrap us in mercy and in great grace.


No magic here - no breath to blow problems, agonies, disease, sickness and disappointments away. No.

No magic.

But in Christ, the Magnificent Mystery, we worship though we may weep long and hard, low and deep.


This is what I believe.

So breakfast is ready and we move to the table.  We eat fruit salad, luscious berries, pineapple, banana.  Then breakfast casserole, rich, thick and cheesy, with bacon.  We are chatting and enjoying the moments.

Then dinner is mentioned and that we are going to Auntie`s.  A hard stare is passed down the table.  Eye to eye I see sonny boy, I listen as he announces with jaw clenched that he will not be joining us there.

A pall falls over the kitchen.  The cheer of the morning extinguished - immediately.

I looked up the meaning of the word ``pall`` -  one of it`s meanings and the one that applied in that moment -
``anything that covers, shrouds, or overspreads, especially with darkness or gloom.`` (Dictionary.com)

And that was it exactly, room`s light blotted out, gloom shrouded.

We don`t argue or fuss about it.  We know that is pointless. We just continue on. Brighten up as we will for all of our sake`s, the smiles, the presents and so on.

Later we head over to Auntie`s. Then it hits me.  It starts in my toes, works up to ankles, shins, thighs, stomach, chest, and finally, to eyes, that blink back silent tears. This sadness, this sorrow. This no longer merry.

We arrive, navigate greetings and I feel myself unraveling.  The wool of my grief falling - rolling madly across the room.  I escape - go to the bathroom, lock myself in, breathe deeply, find tears streaming rain from eyes crested with waves of disappointment.  No bravery here, not now.

This is hubby`s family I tell myself, they will not be angry with me, surely, they will understand.  And they do.  I, eventually, come out - sister-in-comes, sits beside me. She offers me compassion and a drink to soothe the shattering in my soul.  Tall strapping nephew, and gentle niece come into the living room, they sit and chat with me graciously and with kindness as I find my way back to equanimity.

No magic tonight.  But, yes, mystery.  I have no way to know or figure out how or when (ah, the when, it really gets to me, the waiting, the longing), the reconciliation will take place in our tiny wee family, or in this family that I married into.  I, now, joined forever with this man and his family.  If sonny boy, chooses to reject that family, I have to stand back, let go.  His choices, not mine.  Our love remains, mother to son, father to son, sister to brother.  Hubby`s family reaches out with love too, they had difficult decisions to make and they made them.  And we had made heart-rending decisions too. Only until sonny boy finds a way to sort this all out will healing be really possible.

And this is the Magnificent Mystery of Christ, born as a babe, lived as a man, died and rose again - Savior -

Savior of all my moments.
Savior of all the wires twisted, tangled tightly together,
He alone can untangle them.

In these the barbed wire agonies I lift my life,
offer my tears-
tears He treasures, in trust to Him.

I worship as
I weep, long and hard,
low and deep.

All together around the table...

Tonight, Christmas Eve, I have my family.

All together.

We sit around the table.

There is some awkwardness, but there is also something else.

There is love.

Here we are where love sits.

Love passed as we pass the food.  As we talk, as we laugh.

Brother and sister sit side by side, it is a lovely picture.

Hubby and his Mom, and me.

Here we are where love lives.

Where love throbs each heartbeat, each longing.

I get up to serve a dish to sonny boy.

He reaches out to me, wraps his arms around me.

I bend over and hold him, close to my heart.

He might be two again, that is what it like.

Mother and child.

This bond though fractured, never completely broken.

I feel tears rise to surface, but

not spill over.

The Prince of Peace has come.

He comes tonight.

Our family love-wrapped in

His advent.

The advent of

hope, salvation

and new beginnings.

We do not know what tomorrow brings.

After Christmas,

real life continues.

We plead for wholeness,

for redemption from hurt.

We pray for healing,

in our bodies, souls, and spirits.

Healing

in our relationships.

But for now -

this is enough,

all of us together

around the table.

When I am weak...

Our Saviour always goes before us in our sufferings.  He too, despised and rejected, so intimately He knows our griefs and our sorrows.  And He, in His great compassion, mercy and tenderness offers to carry these dark sorrowings for us.

I am filled with longing that the hurt in our family will not overtake us, that the pain between child and parents will not rear its head.  That the Holy Spirit's presence will comfort and that Warrior Angels will surround our home and our hearts. May the shed blood of our passionate Christ flow protection and healing for all in our family.

Our fight is never against flesh and blood but against principalities and powers in unseen places.  Our enemy is not others or family members who may wound us, our Enemy is the Father of Lies, whose sole goal it is to destroy and steal and kill all the love between whomever he can harass.  The Enemy would take our lives and the lives of those whom we love if he could, and if he cannot do that, he would love to make us thoroughly miserable.  

But God.

But GOD.  He goes before us and behind us.  He does not promise no evil will befall us, but He does promise strength for each day, "...and as your day, so shall  your strength, security and rest be...Deut . 33:25 AMP

He reminds us that - " These things I have spoken to you, so that in Me you may have peace. In the world you have tribulation, but take courage; I have overcome the world."  John 16:33, NASB.   

This courage, our medicine, we take with the strength and grace He promises us in abundance.  And when we feel we are at our weakest and have no strength at all to carry on, this is when we know He can shine through us wholly and truly for " For when I am weak, then I am strong. " 2 Cor.12:10b NIV

His strength - "...made perfect in weakness..." 2 Cor. 12:9 NIV  

It is counter-intuitive, I know, but so true nevertheless.  It is an upside-down Kingdom, but within its seeming confines we find, oddly enough, freedom.  Freedom from fakery. We do not have to pretend that we have it all together.  We know we do not have it all together - so we can freely be who we are, and allow Christ to do the work of molding us, working in us and through us to accomplish His sovereign and mysterious purposes. 

This mess I am - this hurt I feel, the anguish I writhe in, this confusion that sometime muddies my mind - He accepts - me, you, just as we are...  He loves us, absolutely, completely, eternally.

So we take a deep breath, and carry on...knowing that He carries us.  

Always and forever.

Here comes the Sandman

I go to bed last night.

Toss and turn,

toss and turn.

Sleep,

I want sleep,

I want to

Sleep.

It, however,

eludes me

evades me.

I come downstairs,

roam from

room to room.

I go to the kitchen

make a snack,

munch on crackers.

I sit in the family room

turn on TCM

watch on old movie.

It grows later

and later,

I yawn, widely

face splitting

open.

Can I

ingest sleep

some potion?

Will sleep come

now,

I wonder?

Will my mind

slow down,

thoughts, bees

buzzing, hibernate

now?

Will the "Sandman

come,

stepping so lightly,

singing the children

to sleep everywhere.

Tra la, la, la la,

tra la, la, la la.?"

This song,

sung in my

Mother's voice

reverberates from

my childhood.

I climb the

stairs,

crawl into bed,

soft, comfy,

inviting.

The Sandman,

sprinkles sleepy

dust in my eyes.

I drift away,

finally,

to Dreamland.

Dry Bones

Some days are days of quiet weariness.

Spirit deep and desperate.

Days of rattling and dry bones.

Days when breath is spare and time is counted out, measured in moments.

These are valley days, Ezekiel days.

In faith, mind flees to ancient verse.

"¹ The hand of the LORD was upon me, and he brought me out in the Spirit of the LORD and set me down in the middle of the valley;^[a] it was full of bones. ²And he led me around among them, and behold, there were very many on the surface of the valley, and behold, they were very dry. ³And he said to me, "Son of man, can these bones live?" And I answered, "O Lord GOD, you know." ⁴Then he said to me, "Prophesy over these bones, and say to them, O dry bones, hear the word of the LORD. ⁵Thus says the Lord GOD to these bones: Behold, I will cause breath^[b] to enter you, and you shall live. ⁶ And I will lay sinews upon you, and will cause flesh to come upon you, and cover you with skin, and put breath in you, and you shall live, and you shall know that I am the LORD."   Ezekiel 37: 1- 4


I lift my voice, cry out to the Lord GOD: -


"Breathe on me Spirit of the Living God, breathe on me...cause me to live, live my life to the fullest. Live my life in valley or mountain-top, in glory or despair, live my life lifted up to you.  Do not let the days pass by in dryness of spirit, no breath of hope anywhere.  


Breathe on me Spirit of God, breathe life into these dry bones. Let hope vibrate, pulsate, from every fibre in my being, let my feet leap, let every strand of DNA declare- 
^"7Though the fig tree should not blossom,
   nor fruit be on the vines,
the produce of the olive fail
   and the fields yield no food,
the flock be cut off from the fold
   and there be no herd in the stalls,
¹⁸ yet I will rejoice in the LORD;
    I will take joy in the God of my salvation.
¹⁹GOD, the Lord, is my strength;
    he makes my feet like the deer’s;
   he makes me tread on my high places." Habakkuk 3: 17 -19"


Though darkness and despair follow me, chase me down corridors of blackness, I will not be swallowed whole, hopeless.  


I will sing, I will dance, I will weep and sorrow too, but not as those who have no hope.  These dry bones will rise again.


"I know it brother brother,
Indeed I know it brother, I know it HEY!
Dem bones gonna rise again...

The Lord cried out in his mighty voice.
Dem bones gonna rise again 
That shook the heavens to the joists.
Dem bones gonna rise again.

I know it brother brother,

Indeed I know it brother, I know it HEY!

Dem bones gonna rise again...

(from - http://www.scoutsongs.com/lyrics/dembones.html)"

   

Do you ever?

Do you ever feel shattered?

Falling, flailing, flying apart

no longer one piece,

Not cohesive or clear?


Do ever wonder?

What, who, when all of

this will make sense,

How the answers will come?


Do you ever stop?

Pondering, pouring over, pulling,

the questions from the air,

Hearing the resounding silence?


Do you ever find what?

Caring, compassion, closeness,

just someone who really,

Listens to all that you are saying?


Do you ever think about meaning?

Fact, fable, or faith,

that God is there,

waiting, longing, loving?


Do you ever wait

In silence, supplication, surrender,

to catch the whisper, the butterfly kiss of,

I AM.

He is the I AM who carefully places the shattered pieces of my messed up brokenness ever so tenderly back in the puzzle.  He is the I AM who breathes peace in and around my moments of absolute panic.


He is the I AM who makes sense of the senseless, who uncovers mystery, whose essence though in part Incomprehensible, reveals enough for me to take  just the next step and then the next, and then the one after that.


He is the I AM who tells me gently, lovingly, Be Still, Be Still...know I AM God.  In the silence, He can speak to me.


He is the I AM who hears my cries - of anguish, of lament, of sorrow.  He is the Great Shepherd - who picks me up when I am lost, wounded and weeping and carries me close - cuddles me, holds me next to His heart.


He is the I AM who creates meaning out of every circumstance, no matter how confounding.  The God who delights in faith offered to Him, tear-stained with questioning doubt though it may be...He treasures the faith I hold up to Him.


He is the I AM who waits, breath-held, for me to return from my meandering paths, the detours I sometimes take; He waits, longs for, loves me, even me!  His arms ever flung wide open to me - I run, run, mad dash now to Him and He - He catches me, lifts me up, and embraces me in His everlasting arms.

He is the I AM who while I am waiting, asking, seeking, and knocking asks for surrender.  It is the hardest thing I have to do - offer it all to Him, all my hopes,  all my dreams.  He resists the proud, but gives grace, beautiful, moment by moment grace to the humble.


He is the I AM who takes my face in His nail-scarred hands, and sweetly, gently, whispers, I AM.


The earth quakes, the thunder roars, the lightening pierces.


Nothing and no one can hold up or hold back the great I AM.


 And He, the great I AM holds me. 


Together.


He holds me together. 

To be a Parent

How hard it is to be a parent.


How hard it is to live in peace and not in anxiety;


worrying and wondering about our children.


Yet, we cling to the cross of Christ.


His passion, His blood shed for all our griefs and sorrows.


The slivers of the cross cut deep into our flesh. 


We cry out for mercy.


Mercy, rich and full, deep and wide;


for us, for all of our children.


Mercy for all of those whom we love. 


Mercy for all those lost, left out, and lonely.


Mercy for all those sick, suffering and sorrowing.


Jesus, be real to us all, 


all of your beloved children.

For the One Who is Tired - by Grace Noll Crowell

A Poem I love :

For the One Who Is Tired

"Dear heart, God does not say
today, "Be strong!"
He know your strength is
spent, He knows how long
The road has been, how weary
you have grown;
For He walked the earthly
roads alone,
Each bogging lowland and each
long, steep hill,
Can understand, and so He
says, 'Be still
And know that I am God.' The
hour is late
And you must rest awhile, and
you must wait
Until life's empty reservoirs fill
up
As slow rain fills an empty,
upturned cup.
Hold up your cup, dear child,
for God to fill.
He only asks today that you be
still." -Grace Noll Crowell

Wound up...

Somebody please unwind me...

I snap, I react, I am irritable.

I have had excruciating pain the past few days.

I am tired.

I need to go to bed.

I need to relax.

Somebody.

Help.

Unwind me.

Please.

Fight or flight...some answers

Life is stress-full. Sometimes we live in limbo – often posed between “fight or flight.”

To read more about “fight or flight”, click on this link – http://www.write-out-loud.com/fightorflightresponse.html.

If we stay in this place, this frozen place, caught, stuck - where chemicals are flying, pumping through the bloodstream, chugging, a train on a collision course with itself; we begin to develop anxiety and can become afraid of doing things we had previously been able to do with little or no effort.

My daughter and I visited a paediatrician this afternoon who explained this response to our daughter in a gentle, non-judgemental manner. She explained that these were real physical responses to stress in our lives and that she believed her, that all these responses were true responses.

I loved the way the Doctor talked to her.

She explained that our health may depend on several things - 1) genetic predispositions to certain conditions, (like migraines and stomach issues, acid reflux etc.), 2) character (the type of personality we have), 3) the things that happen to us that we have no control over, and 4) that are our mind and bodies are connected. All these factors contribute to how healthy we are throughout our lives. And the Doctor told her more about the fight and flight response.

She said that what going on was perfectly understandable and that she could be helped and that everything would be O.K., that her Mom (that`s me...:) ) had made arrangements for her to see other people who could help her as well.

When we left our daughter was so happy, `Mom,`` she said to me, ``the doctor was so-o-o positive. I`ve got my life back!``

I can assure you I felt a great deal of relief too. First of all she was getting medication that would help heal the stomach issues, secondly, she confirmed that migraines are a part of the picture and we have to keep watch, thirdly, she reassured me, the concerned, sometimes anxious Mom, that I had done everything right and in a timely manner. And finally, beautifully, there was no shame attached to any of it!

Having suffered from migraines for well over thirty years now, I have had so many people tell me that I was making myself sick, when migraines are in fact, a genetically inherited neurological disease. I had often been filled with shame and sometimes self-loathing for making myself so sick - when that was never the case at all! I am only now being given the tools to deal with all that shame and guilt heaped upon me – probably by well meaning people.

What a gift for our daughter to know that what she feels is real, not imaginary, and that there is help to be had - that she will be given whatever tools are necessary to help with both the physical and emotional elements of what has been happening to her!!! How glad I am.

We know now better than ever in this day and age the mind-body connection. What we need to continue to do is release people from feeling that they are the sole cause of their physical maladies and thus release them the terrible burden of shame, which in turn releases them emotionally. (Mother-rant over and out.)

What a day it has been. It is a journey. It is a road, and there will be curves and bumps ahead. There are more appointments ahead, counsellors and Doctors to be seen.

But we will be O.K. Really.

Let it be so, Jesus, let it be so.

Full Moon

There was a full moon tonight as we drove in the darkness to a Christmas play.

It was beautiful, this night's sun, bright and high in the sky.  So beautiful, it makes me ache with wonder.

Dark silk this night hung with high hope.  This mellifluous lovely - shining, shouting, singing.

And this was its refrain -

"There is light in the darkness."

There is glory all around us, hope written in the world displayed.

The heavens declare the glory of God;
the skies proclaim the works of his hands.
Day after day they pour forth speech;
night after night they reveal knowledge.
They have no speech, they use no words;
no sound is heard from them.
Yet, their voice goes out into all the earth,
their words to the end of the world.
Psalm 19: 1-4 NIV

This full moon tonight, tells stories, this silent phenomena, speaks.

We only have to stop and listen.





           

Moments of Grace

Today was not a good day for me....some of the chronic health issues I deal with reared their ugly heads.  I was filled with quiet misery.

On days like today...I go grace-hunting...looking for those moments...I make my list.

Ann Voskamp, author of One Thousand Gifts,  says to "Live a life of intentional gratitude..." - and this is what I want to do, aim to do.

I am grateful that our daughter was able to go to school again...be brave again.

I am grateful for snow-globe morning, dusting the world a sparkling white.

I am grateful that I was able to get couple of errands done in spite of how I was feeling.

I am grateful for my friend who came here today, when it became clear that I would only be able to stay in for the rest of the day.

I am grateful that hubby picked up something for us to have for dinner tonight.

I am grateful for a phone call from another friend.

I am grateful that I am feeling a bit better tonight.

Moments of grace, found.

Back to real life...

We are now three days in to reorienting our girl to "real life."  To getting up in the morning, thinking about school, getting ready for school and putting action to the thinking.

The second day in, she gets up, is not feeling that great, gets a little weepy, but when I remind her to gently "not to start that again," she looks at me a bit chagrined and manages to take deep breaths and work on remaining calm.

We get ready, she gets her coat and boots on and off we go.  We arrive at school, I walk her in - reminding her to stay calm, that she can do this, if she needs me she can call.  I leave her there.

Turn around and walk out the door.

I call hubby at work as soon as I get to the car, when he answers his phone, I don't even bother with Hello, I just jubilantly announce, "no tears!"  He laughs. We are glad. So glad.

She comes home on the bus, she is fine.  She made it through!  She has been brave, worked through some of the anxiety.  It is a good moment for her, to know that she can indeed begin again.

We get up again today.  She is more anxious today, but we repeat the routine,  even try to arrive a bit earlier, to extend the time she spends at school, to give her practice at just "being,"  to build her confidence, to accept the feelings and let them drift by, not overwhelm her.

I walk her in, she sees the e.a. and off she goes.  I speak quietly to the e.a. and then I turn and walk out.

Our girl does it again!  Makes it through the day..."the real life" that we all have to go through.

This what it's all about, right?  Sometimes we get overwhelmed and would all like to take a holiday from life.  But the time comes when, with the help of those who love us, with prayers, with appropriate counselling and so on, we have to step out the door and start again.

Baby steps, baby steps.

One day at a time.

After effects...

The day after the "eruption" we wake up and start the day again.

We stayed calm during the crisis, but now we are coughing up repercussions of the day before.  The volcanic ash sprinkles dust on our souls.  We are tired and my head is pounding and hubby is a little bit more tense than usual.

Our daughter apologizes for having a "fit."  I tell her it is fine and that I forgive her.  But she too feels the thrumming of the drum of repercussion beating in her, so she asks again and again.  Hours apart, but she asks again.  Again and again, I reassure her that she is loved and forgiven.  We hug and seal our love.

The day continues, a fresh start.

We begin again.

This is good and right.

Anxiety's rage...

Yesterday, was hell on wheels...

After much discussion and strategical planning my husband and I came up with an idea to help our girl get back to school.

She has been so sick and has developed major anxiety issues during this time - although she has always had a tendency to be a little on the skittish side.

So, I woke her up, told her to get dressed and get ready to make an attempt to go to school.  This took some time. There were tears and outbursts.  But I kept on - encouraging her that she would be O.K. that this was something she really needed to do.

She went upstairs and while up there I could hear her beginning to be sick to her stomach.  I go up, hold the bucket for her.  She gets cleaned up, but is teary.  I tell her to keep getting ready.  I give her Gingerale and Gravol.  I tell her to lie down for a while.

I come downstairs and my hubby and I fire e-mail's back and forth.

I make some chicken noodle soup, get out the crackers, go and get her, bring her downstairs to start to eat. Hubby comes home as we had agreed, I need him to help us through this transition.  After a bit, after she has something on her stomach and is keeping it down, hubby tells her she has to go to school.

A volcano of anxiety erupts out of her with screaming rage.  She cries and screams and tells us she cannot do it, she utters dire threats.  It is not what we could ever imagine coming out of our sweet girl's mouth.

We breathe in, look at each other, silently telegraphing messages to one another.  To keep calm. To be reassuring.  To make sure that we do not escalate emotionally right along with her.

She is out of control.

We murmur quiet words to her, continue on. We cannot let anxiety win this battle, conquer our daughter, have her victim to craven fear.

The boots get put on. The coat next.  We stand her gently, upright.  She rages on.

We huddle momentarily in the front hall, the three of us.  Group hug.  I call out the Name, gently, but with deep urgency, spirit deep, "Jesus, Jesus, Jesus."

She starts heaving, but does not throw up.  Anxiety has the upper hand, but we, my hubby and I, have our hands on it and we are determined to pry it off of her, bit by bit.

"It's going to be O.K.," I tell her.  "This is just you body doing its thing, breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe out, you can do this. We love you."

We open the door to the SUV, help her in.  I buckle her up, all the while keeping up the stream of reassurances.  Hubby gets in the driver's seat.

I close the door.  I have an appointment that is vital so I can not join them on this ride, this journey, brief as it is to school, yet long in anguish.  She howls when she realizes that I am not coming.  Heart-torn, I wave and walk briskly back to the door.

I cannot show her my own anguish for her.  I too, must be brave.  I too, have battles to conquer.

I get the report from hubby later, the drive was harrowing.  He, I think, calmly carries her there with more words of life, words that flow with love and affirmation.

I am so proud of him! 


She makes it through the afternoon, and when I get there to pick her up, she has managed, she has coped.

I am so proud of her too! 


Every day we will take baby steps, all of us.  Every day is a new day.  Every day there are new mercies.

Every day she goes to school and stays for a while, every day she works through her anxiety and her fears - every day, she will grow stronger, develop life skills for coping with the challenges that will inevitably and inexorably appear.  She will also develop more of the compassionate spirit that she already so tenderly shows to others.

No easy task this, but we will make it through. Together.

Angel sings in back seat

Last evening I was driving our daughter to her appointment.  It was rush hour.  We were going in the same direction as the bulk of the traffic.

And last night traffic was terrible.  It was raining,  there had been an accident somewhere and the cars were inching forward - brutally slow.

Now I like to be on time.  I had left earlier specifically because I knew it was rush hour and it was raining.  So, I start to get upset.  Concerned.  I do not want to be late.  This appointment is important.

I call my husband and ask him to call and let them know we were on our way, that the traffic is bad.

Yet, still I fuss, sigh, feel anxious.

I  put on a Christmas CD and the music is playing, Christmas songs.  Our daughter is in the back seat singing along.

The words suddenly penetrate the haze in my brain, sung by "Casting Crowns" and sweetly, high and clear by our daughter.  "Love is raining down on the world tonight - There's a presence here I can tell - God is in us, God is for us, God is with us, Emmanuel - He's the Savior we have been praying for - In our humble hearts he will dwell..."

Emmanuel, God with us. God with me.  In this moment.  In this car.  In this horrible traffic.  God with me, always.


I breathe deep...remind myself that it is O.K.  We are on our way.  We have done what we can.  We will get there, eventually.   We have done everything we could have done to get there on time.  We left earlier.  We called when we realized it would take longer than we could imagine.  I let go.  Breathe deep again. And again.

Trivial or important God is with me in all my moments.  Every single one of them. Emmanuel.  God with us, with me, with you.

And it took an angel in the back seat singing to remind me.

Some days...

Some days I do feel brave at all.  I feel tired and afraid.

Those days are the longest days of all.

Did we?

What can affect us more deeply than the love we have for our children?

What can bring us more lilting joy than our children?

What can cause more blistering anguish than to watch the suffering of our children?

What can frighten us to death or thrill us the most than when thinking of the future of our children?

What can keep our eyes wide-open at night  than when we our wondering what will happen to our children?

What can make us cry ocean-canyon's depth more than walking through tough, sometimes horrifying times with our children?

What can split our heart's wide open, see them beating on the floor than when we plead in prayer for our children?

What can make us dance, sing, spin with glee than watching the good things accomplished by our children?

When we  were young and longing for our children to be born: for those sweet baby powder fresh newborns to be placed in our arms by grace - did we dream of any of this?

Did we only think of laughter and giggles and kisses on chubby cheeks?

Did we imagine teenager rebellion, or sudden death, or dreaded disease?  Did we imagine disabilities, or surgeries, or accidents rude and terrible?

Did we think of addictions, or tragedies that would make us lie awake in terror?

Did we think about any of that when we were rocking them, crooning love songs in those precious baby ears?

Did we?

I know I didn't.

I did not know that parenting would call for the most searing love and the fierceness of mother bear.  I did not know the terrible courage that I would have to call upon.  I did not know that nights would loose their peace and that sleep, sometimes, would simply not come.

I did not know about the visits to the doctor's offices.  I did not ever imagine the visits to the counselling office time and again.  I did not know.

I only know that love calls for unspeakable bravery and tenacity.  I only know that love never, ever, ever gives up.  I only know that love keeps on asking, seeking, knocking.  I only know that love wills persistence and endurance.

I only know that love will not stop. Never. Ever.

Until my last breath and beyond, love carries on.

I only know that this love, as imperfect as it may be, heart-beat by heart-beat gasps out hope -unending hope - for my children.

This is the love I have for my children.

It is my calling.

Christmas light...

I drove over to the store this evening, down the streets and around the corners.

The lights, colours of Christmas twinkled in velvet of the darkness, jewels - a rainbow strung over homes and gardens around windows and trees.  Royal purples - amethyst hues, ruby reds, sapphire blues, soft opal whites, emerald greens, topaz yellows, all blinking in the night.

The colours call light out of darkness.

This is what I want desperately in my life - light in the midst of darkness.

For God, who said, "Light shall shine out of darkness," is the One who has shone in our hearts to give the Light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Christ.  (2 Cor. 4:6)

The face of Christ, the babe in manger, our Christmas light.

This is the Christmas light that I need, and I find Him....Him who has called you out of darkness into His marvelous light....(1 Pet. 2:9)

Oh, shine your beam of marvelous light into this heart of mine.  Let the darkness, the hurt, the anguish, melt in warmth of your light.  Shine, sweet babe.  Shine, Risen Saviour.  Shine.


“The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it” (John 1:5 ESV)


December 3, 2011

Dog at my heels....

Anxiety, a sense of dis ease can happen in a moment, or it can hang over - a cloud drunk with the troubles of the days gone by, the days to come. It whispers in my ear, like a spook in the corner.

My insides tighten up, a spring tightly wound.

These are the days I suffer from amnesia. I forget the goodness. I forget the blessings.

I snap at those I love. I hate that. I wish I wouldn`t do that.

What can I do?

I think about Molly.​

In our house we have a new puppy, only five months old. She is wildly enthusiastic, warmly affectionate and she follows me around my kitchen, dogs at my heels.

The cloud lifts, amnesia gives way to memory.

I suddenly remember hearing something Dallas Willard said when he was talking about the 23^rd Psalm, in his DVD discussing his book the Divine Conspiracy (a great read by the way). You know the verse (vs.6) that says -. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life...
He said, he thinks “that goodness and mercy are like little dogs at his heels,” they are always following him around.

Ah, I think to myself now, these wee dogs, goodness and mercy are following me always. Sometimes, I forget they are there. I fail to look over my shoulder – see them leaping, warmly and affectionately.

I forget my arithmetic, I forget to count my blessings, the ”goodness and mercy.”

Thank you for the phone call that came today offering more suggestions to help our girl.

Thank you for the sunshine that came glinting in my windows.

Thank you that we got to the orthodontist, to get that pesky retainer out – for now.

Thank you that our fridge is full and that we can eat – of plenty and often - when there so very many, many cannot.

Thank you for soft couch and Christmas cushions to rest my aching head.

Thank you for Friday nights spent with each other, just “chillin'.”

Thank you for laughter, clean and bright.

Goodness and mercy, following me, dogging at my heels.

“Woof, woof.”

What happens when we do not listen....

This evening, our daughter, while chewing on a caramel felt that caramel stick to the retainer on her bottom teeth and lift out.

She immediately panicked and started working at it with her tongue and her fingers.  My husband came over and he carefully helped push it back onto her tooth.  Even though it was reattached, she was still freaking out because, well, she felt like she knew better than her Daddy.  She thought if she did not  get the whole thing out it would somehow come loose while she slept and she would die.  "You want me to die!!!" she howled.  Exasperated, he clucked, "Of course I do not want you to die..."

Ignoring him she worked the metal piece of her tooth but could not get the other side out and off...she's stuck now because she has this piece of metal hanging out of her mouth with no where to go...Yikes!

He goes upstairs, she comes and sits beside me, teary-eyed she says, "what am I going to do now???"  I look at her and sigh; "Perhaps," I say, "you should realize that when Daddy is trying to help you, he really wants to help you."  "Maybe, you don't know what's best after all?"  Tears slide down her face, "But I thought...." her voice tapers off, "I'm sorry," she whispers.  "Maybe you need to tell him that?" I reply, "and then, ask him to help you?"

You'd think it was major surgery, but really, well, she held unto my hand and my husband, small pliers in hand works away gently at it, getting the twisted metal piece somehow bent so that it goes back into her mouth.  Crisis solved - for now.  Tomorrow we'll call the dentist and see what can be done.

Oh and by the way, did I mention that she isn't supposed to eat sticky things like, say, caramels?  Ya, well.

So, it got me to thinking, how many times had I landed up in some kind of trouble or crisis because I stubbornly thought I knew better?  Sad to say, I must admit, far too many times for comfort.

Why is it I wonder, that we seem to think that somehow we, in an area in which we perhaps have no expertise or experience, that we just automatically know the answer?  Is it some sort of primal arrogance?  Or do some lessons just beg to be learned the hard way?

What do you think?