Signs by Susan L.

What a beautiful morning! The warming sun. A robin singing his heart out in the barren ash tree next to my driveway. The snow in the shady back yard is diminishing rapidly and there's more crocuses peeking out. Spring is springing. It's time to tackle the ancient apple tree that has been sorely neglected for a number of years. Lack of pruning has reduced the number of apples it produces. It needs more than a trim. Maybe I'll do that tomorrow or at least make a start. It's a big job. It's amusing watching the squirrels choose an apple in August. They hang precariously upside down and feel one apple then another making sure it is just right. They pluck the best, sit up and begin nibbling the peel only to spit it out. They're after the prize inside. The white, juicy flesh. I have no idea what species my apples are. They are one of the old breeds, softer than todays commercial apples. They're great for eating and apple sauce if I can get them harvested before the squirrels do! But, I'm ahead of myself. This elderly, gnarled and twisted tree is absolutely breath taking when it is covered in the fragrant blooms of promise. "For lo, the winter is past." Song 2:11

Triumph by Susan L.

This is a weekend of miracles, of wonder and awe. A time of thunder, destruction and redemption, renewal and hope. Mostly, for me, it is a weekend of the deepest gratitide my human heart can summon. I am alive because of the sacrifice Jesus made on the Cross that day so long ago. It sounds corny but it is true. If not for His followers, His teachers and disciples, I would not be here. If not for His servants reaching out to give a hand, a hug or a prayer, I would not have survived the drowning depths of the Black River. If not for my own desperate need for Him, I would not have known that peace is possible. In spite of it all, or perhaps because of it all, I have found faith and forgiveness through something far greater than I ever imagined. The amazing thing is all I needed to do was invite Him into my heart. Thank You, Jesus, for all You have done. "And lo, I am with you always, even to the end of an age." Mat 28:20

Celah by Susan L.

Easter is upon us. The mad rush at the stores: groceries and chocolate bunnies, egg hunts and toys. "Selah", the Hebrew word for a suspension of music. I love that word. It means take time to breathe. Embrace the silent pause. Anticipate the song yet to be played. Wait, alert, for the Conductor's baton to give the signal to begin again. "Selah". The word itself is a sigh, an expulsion of breath. It is the bated breath waiting in anticipation of greater things. The mounting vibrance of the Song as it rises, resounding in the final notes. Victorious. "Selah. And the heavens will praise Your wonders, O Lord." Ps 89:5

Listening Post by Susan L.

Whenever we go down into the city for our staff meeting, I am confronted by just how different the two worlds are: a rural town vs the cityscape. Maybe I'm still a little hearing sensitive this week but,wow! The noise! A constant drone of traffic punctuated by sirens, honking horns, roaring buses, squeaking brakes. I can feel my stress level rising quickly. Oh, and the beeping walk signal from the nearby intersection sets my teeth on edge. Maybe it's an age thing, too. The city world is too big, too fast. Just too much everything. I know there are many who thrive in that environment, who love it and I happily leave it to them. I know the silence out where I live might not apoeal to them. Anyways, silence comes with its own noises or should I say my house has its own voice. Sounds I know well and no longer hear unless I listen for them. Kind of like getting comfortable with God. "Yes, uh-huh...yes, Dear...". Until something out of the ordinary happens to remind me He's there all day, every day, eternally. Noises or no noises. "He who has an ear, let him hear." Rev 2:7

Native Residential Schools by Susan L.

There is a publication ban in Canada regarding any discoveries made by the Board of Enquiry and the Native Residential schools they are investigating. International news is following the story and isn't afraid to share. Wikipedia has a huge write up about it. They are doing magnetic imaging at a couple of school sites and finding hundreds of bones, the remains of Native children who were taken from home and family to be "educated". This misguided and cruel practice began in the 1840's up until 1996 when the last school closed. It is an awful mark on Canada because of the sickening abuse these children were exposed to and how they were exploited. The mortality rate was at least 25% but no parent was ever told their child had died. They simply vanished. How do we, as Canadians, atone for the sins of our fathers? How do we justify the media being gagged? How can we expect to change the world? How can we demand countries like China and India stop using child labour? We need to get our own house in order. It's sad how Canada delights and boasts of our multi-cultural society yet at the same time Nova Scotia had to be forced to close its last segregated school: the one for children who weren't white. In 1983! For my part, I am so sorry these things ever took place. I ask, not knowing the answer, what would ever pay for the loss, the suffering, the tragedy inflicted on these children and their families? How do we apply a price tag to human life? We begin by making this public. Enough secrets have been kept already. "Prepare your outside work, make it fit for yourself in the field;and afterward build your house." Prov 24:28

Clarification by Susan L.

I confess I was angry and depressed when I wrote Saturday's blog, "Uplifted". Angry about the whole mess. Angry that feeling well and confident was so quickly slam-dunked this week. Angry that my hyper vigilance/noise sensitivity got fired up, making me even more jumpy. Angry at the nightmares. Angry that I couldn't relax. The joys of PTSD. Mostly I was angry at the nature of sin. In art therapy on Thursday night I drew a wooden crate containing all the sins that didn't belong to me. The ones I carried because of other's choices. They had blamed me for their actions, often to my face or where I could hear them. It's sad to think I ever believed them, that it was my fault they hurt me. That it was my fault they behaved the way they did because of my inadequacies. But I owned it. God has forgiven me for that. The huge crate was an ugly, dark picture that stirred up its own painful memories. I have laid it at the foot of the cross by tossing a sketch of it into the river nearby. I needed a physical action to mirror what I was trying to do in my heart. It worked and I feel much lighter. There is a plus side to the sensitive hearing. I could hear tiny rivulets of melt water trickling through the trees. The chickadees wings rustled as they danced from tree to tree. The rich symphony of nature's song of joy. Spring is here. "To give them beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness; that they may be called trees of righteousness." Is 61:3

Back and Forth by Susan L.

They say when you fall off a horse, you need to get right back on again. The Lord knows I want to go to church this morning but my soul is fearful. I decided last night if I woke up in time then I 'd go. I have, with plenty of time to spare. If I don't go, I'll end up second guessing my decision. I may even regret not going. I don't want fear to rule my life. It did for far too long. But then, the bruises haven't totally healed from last week. Not that what happened was intentional, wounds were opened and it caught me off guard. Then again, it probably was God's intention because there has been another layer of divine healing. That's a good thing. Here's an idea: I can always leave. Or better yet, I pray for the Lord's tender mercy and help in Jesus' name, Amen. There are some days it feels like I go round and round the mulberry bush when the answer is so obvious! I am smiling at my own humanity. (Later) How did it go? I am glad I went. "As the new wine is found in the cluster and one says." Do not destroy it, for a blessing is in it."" Is 65:8

Uplifted by Susan L.

There's a philosophy out there that is often repeated. I've read it as the opening line in several books. The moment I see it, I drop the book, horrified. It reads, " Everything has happened to us because of the choices we have made." Really?! Try telling that to a person who has been raped or the child who fell into the hands of a sexual predator. Would any one of us choose to have these terrible and traumatic events in our lives? I don't think so. What this twisted concept does is remove responsibility from where it belongs. I guess I am a bit angry today. More than a bit. It's been a rough week. Most of my struggles with mental illness are a direct result of the choices other people made. I got caught in the cross fire. I can't say as an innocent bystander but the term collateral damage fits. I know far too well my own short-comings, my mistakes...but choice? There wasn't any. I try not to judge others for their choices. Sometimes it's extremely difficult. And here's the crux of the matter. I didn't believe I had the right to make a choice. Thank You, Lord, that I now know I do. "Behold, I will raise them out of the place to which you have sold them." Joel 3:7

Changing Gears by Susan L.

I feel bad about missing yesterday's blog but it was a busy and emotional day. It happens. I was/am dealing with further aftershocks. Sometimes it takes a little while to think things over and in my case, grieve what needs to be grieved. God has, as always, proved faithful. He planted seeds in everything I read, in everyone I talked to. It's like a treasure hunt in the dark where the prize is an "A-ha!" moment. The tiny, glowing seeds or ideas are gathered and meld into a stroke of understanding and insight that rocks my world and my perceptions. I have the inclination of feeling responsible for other people's actions. Logically, I understand why. It is a life lesson driven home time after time. It is a tool of abusers, to blame the abused for their behaviour. God showed me I can set these burdens down once and for all. His shoulders are more than sufficient. My head gets it and I feel a thousand pounds lighter. My heart just needs a little time because this insight is surrounded by its own stew of emotion. "But Jesus turned around, and when He saw her He said," Be of good cheer, daughter, your faith has made you well."" Mt 9:22

Redemption by Susan L.

A pressed four leaf clover apoeared between the pages of my concordance bringing a fond smile to my face. As I was looking for something else, I came across this piece written a couple of years ago. It was something I needed to hear again. That is God's hand as we seek so often we end up finding something far better than we were looking for in the first place. "But God will redeem my soul from the power of the grave, for He shall recieve me. Selah." Ps 49:15 Redemption is the dance of Kings with baby steps first learned standing atop our heavenly Father's feet. It is a dance of celebration, of alivedness, of eternal joy. It is a dance of awareness, in appreciation of how fearfully and wonderfully made we are. It is the dance of war with the drums of angels thundering to drown out the hue and cry of the eternal enemy. It is the Father's call to arms and His call to worship Him with body, soul and spirit. Redemption is the removal of the grave cloths which hamper our vision and frees us to see His path shining brightly before us. It is the release of the chains which bind us and blind us from seeing God's truth about others and ourselves. It is the shattering sound of deliverance as tainted truths are replaced with Godly wisdom and insight.. Redemption is being blessed with the courage of the lion that allows us to press forward into the darkness that lay hidden deep within our souls. It is knowing we have a safe place to weep and gnash our teeth with animal rage at the wrongs so grievously committed against us. It is knowing that shoulders far stronger than ours can lift our burdens and carry them for a while or for as long as we need. It is knowing for sure that we can freely surrender them to His most loving care. Redemption is being covered by the Blood of Christ. Protected by the Blood. Loved through the Blood of He who died so we may be saved. Redemption is the greatest gift love can offer. It is the honour of being able to carry that love wherever our paths take us. Redemption is learning the words to a new song;to raising our voice with gladness and laughter about the small things that once caused grief. Things which now seem unimportant. Redemption is the capacity to forgive those who hurt us, those who cursed us and those who unknowingly passed their burdens down through the generations. It is also the capacity to receive forgiveness with all humility towards He who extends it so freely. Redemption enables us to read the story which the Author of our faith has so carefully and lovingly written upon our souls. Redemption is love. Redemption is peace. Redemption is consumed through the cup of Christ with its many trials and its many joys. Redemption is the gateway to life.

Attachment Anxiety by Susan L.

Yesterday's appointment with my psychiatrist saw us discussing what happened Sunday. We also touched on life's big questions: faith, purpose, hope, and the like. It was a meat and potatoes conversation and I left feeling peaceful and full. My good doctor told me about Attachment Anxiety. Light bulbs flashed, pieces clicked in to place. I like having a name for how I feel. For starters, it means I am not alone. Secondly, I can research such things and learn more. For me, a diagnosis is a healing tool, a place to start. Understandably, given my history,what this amounts to is a fear of getting close to people.Although, at this point in my recovery it is more of a cautious approach when I meet new people. Wary, even. It explains my dislike of crowds. It explains my shyness and discomfort. The racing heart, the adrenaline of flight mode that courses through my body when I am surrounded by a crowd. It explains a whole lot of everything. Understanding births wisdom. There is a flip side to this anxiety, a 'normal' side. Therefore there is a hope of recovery. Just don't rush me. "You enlarged my path under me so my feet did not slip." Ps 18:36

Outside by Susan L.

Before yesterday's church service a woman approached me with a clipboard. She asked me what I would like to bring to the Good Friday dinner. "Last year, we had a hundred and ten people!" She smiled, "It was great and there's a service afterwards. What can I put you down for?" She rhymed off several options. I stood there, catching flies, and didn't know how to respond. Apparently someone told her I was excited to go. Flight mode kicked in. Decision making capabilities flew out the window. We stood there for a few minutes before she moved on. She'd get back to me. I am sorry if I gave the wrong impression to the person who told me days earlier about the dinner. I am even more sorry they chose to speak on my behalf because I ended up declining the dinner. I might go to the service. I'd like that. Now I feel guilty. I feel the need to justify my decision. You see, the outside me radiates confidence. The inside me struggles to get through the brief social time each Sunday before the service. But I go anyways, despite the noise, the busyness and it is no where near a hundred and ten people! This small foray into society really pushes my comfort zone. Right now, my focus is preparing myself for the Home Show in April. It's much more than drawing posters. TThere is a lot of mental preparation for me because that environment is a ginormous stretch. "See that you walk circumspectly, not as fools but as wise, redeeming the time." Eph 5:15

Foot In Mouth by Susan L.

"An essential communications tool for every classroom, home and office...or anyone searching for just the right word." This blurb on the back of mt Roget's Thesaurus caught my eye as I struggled to write something this morning. The right thing to say so often ends up wrong. When we mean to uplift and encourage, the words we say can have the opposite effect. Not purposfully, mind you...or yes, there are those who use words purposefully to hurt, It's just our human experience gets in the way. So we screw it up. Regularly. Or should I say, I screw it up. Regularly. Not so much any more. Or I hope so anyways because the Lord has taught me about the value of His children. Even those who hurt others. From a place of security upon His rock, knowing all He has brought me through, I pray regularly that my words be His words when I speak. He is the great language Master after all and knows all our hearts. He knows what we need to hear in plain and simple language. He even has a Book that is a gazillion times better than Mr. Roget's! "In Him we have redemption through His blood, the forgiveness of sins, according to the riches of His grace." Eph 1:7

Masks Off! by Susan L.

On the news last night, there was a story about a growing collaboration of people who want the name schizophrenic changed. This is because of the terrible, punitive stigma that comes with a diagnosis of schizophrenia. Quick question: what does that name bring to mind? Let's face it. Labels hurt. Stereotypes hurt. Assumptions hurt. All they do is fan the fires of fear and distrust. I know several people saddled with this diagnosis. None of them are ax murderers or wandering the streets. They are intelligent, articulate people with lives like you and I. They have spouses, children, and jobs. They get angry, sad, and can laugh at a good joke. Sounds human to me. What really bothers me is that any label associated with mental illness supercedes a human identity. We become an illness. I don't think that happens with people fighting cancer or lupus or the flu. Well, maybe people with the flu get shunned. It's catchable. Mental illness isn't. "But if it is a question of words and names and your own law, look to it yourselves." Acts 18:15

A Picture Paints by Susan L.

Being able to take part in an art therapy group continues to be such a blessing. Last week saw the birth of the image of a woman in a long, flowing dress. She is standing, arms held out and is graced with translucent wings. I loved the idea but wasn't happy with how the wings and dress looked. She is facing away from the viewer, looking outwards to the left of the page. Her body is slightly angled, leaning forward as though she's about to leap off of a precipice, trusting in her wings. Last night, courtesy of referencing an Audubon bird book, the wings took shape to my satisfaction. The dress did,too. In talking about her,I got all choked up. Her picture is a gratitude piece acknowledging this wonderful place I am in. It is a symbol of hope, potential, and a future. It is still only a black and white image but I plan to keep working on it. I found it hard to leave her there unfinished, to be locked away in a cupboard for safe keeping until next week. Nevertheless, it felt right. Didn't I say something yesterday about tortoise thoughts? "So I haved looked for You in the sanctuary, to see Your power and Your glory. Because Your lovingkindness is better than life." Ps 63:2

At the Races by Susan L.

I keep getting startled by the date. The fact it is March 2013. Don't know if this is an age thing or simply because a lot of the last eight years has passed in a fog of illness: major depression and anxiety. When I got home from work yesterday, a blanket of fatigue washed over me. Working three days in a row left me drained emotionally and physicalky. More than I thought it would. It isn't a hard job, I am doing what I love and love what I do. It's simply something different, outside of my comfort zone. There's responsibility, too, in being a peer support worker, it's not just remembering to set the alarm when I leave. It is a ministry after all. Last night reminded me of my own fragility; that I need to be careful of my mental wellness and not get too busy too soon. The scars left from my breakdowns are still fresh in my mind. Not that I think it will ever happen again. I simply need to think tortoise thoughts, "Slow and steady." "Holding fast the word of life, so that I may rejoice in the day of Jesus Christ that I have not run in vain or laboured in vain." Phil 2:16

Stepping Up by Susan L.

The Krasman Centre is putting a table in the Alliston Home Show, April 13-14. We decided it's a wonderful opportunity to do some out reach. Last year over three thousand people came through the doors. One fifth of those face mental health challenges. Every single person knows someone who faces these challenges. We want to make sure they know they are not alone. This is my baby and I am excited about it. I've been working on posters to hang behind us. We decided to take one of the original paintings from the centre entitled "Recovery" This is an opening to meet the artist, yours truly. Bringing the painting is a testimony of its own. My college education was in graphic design although I never worked in the field. It's nice to be able to utilize all the marketing skills I learned long, long (ouch!) ago to open the door to conversation. This outreach drives home the reality that nothing in life, not a single one of our experiences ever goes to waste. Not even a dusty diploma. "When you eat the labour of your hands, you shall be happy and it shall be well with you." Ps 128:2

How Sad by Susan L.

There's a tragedy happening beneath our noses that should never happen. The city of Newmarket has buried six babies since Christmas. These little ones were laid in a cradle of garbage bins and alleys. It didn't take long for exposure to end their innocent little lives. My mother's soul weeps for them and for the mothers who believed this was their only option. The media is poisoning our children's minds with rampant sexuality and promiscuity. The intimate act of intercourse is treated as a party favour to be shared lightheartedly, to ease boredom. It's a game, that's all. I wish young men were taught chivalry. I wish young women were taught just how precious their sexuality is. I wish both were taught that intimacy this deep is the most treasured gift one person can give another. I wish they knew they leave a piece of themselves behind every single time, both men and women. Those six little lambs are proof that simply talking about biological mechanics and prescribing birth control doesn't work. It's even more basic than that. When did human life become so cheap? "Set me a seal upon your heart, as a seal upon your arm; for love is as strong as death." Song 8:6

Worry, Worry, Quite Contrary

And the next line, "How does your garden grow?" I will say this of a Monday morning. Can't seem to focus. My mind is on the week ahead: the to-dos, work, and some random, niggling little worries. The massive black willow in my front yard needs to be pruned or cut down. If it falls, it could hit the house. I'll be facilitating the peer support group for the first time today. Gotta get the car E-tested before the end of the month. Need to get the stuff off the basement floor. It doesn't take long to flood if the pump quits. More of an annoyance than damaging. And I smile. It's nice that my only concerns are so small. "Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ." 1 Cor 1:3

Yaaay! by Susan L.

There's a fat robin picking worms from the swathe of grass cutting through my front yard. The snow is melted courtesy of the buried pipe from my sump pump. The constant flow of water keeps the ground from freezing. I'm glad it provides a feast for him. Oops! I just realized the clocks were supposed to go forward last night. It's actually ten thirty and I am too late for church. I tried to get up earlier but the alarm couldn't kick me out of bed this morning. Seeing the robin tells me I got up exactly when I was supposed to! It's going to be a busy week so it's better to have a quiet day. It might be a good idea to do some meal prep for the rest of the week. Hmmm, what else? I'm just blathering on. Sometimes being single has its disadvantages and I feel lonely. It would've been nice to share the robin sighting with someone. Even bouncing mundane ideas around could use a handy ear. Talking to yourself just doesn't always cut it. Did you hear me smack myself in the forehead? Of course, God is listening! "Incline Your ear to me, and save me. Be my strong refuge, to which I may resort continually." Ps 71:2

Cell Phones by Susan L.

The local theatre is showing "Oz, the Great and Powerful". I saw it last night with a friend. It, was pretty good although there were some scary, startling bits. It isn't a movie for children even though it is a Disney picture. Part way through, a young woman sitting in front of me began texting. The glare from her cell phone was annoying and distracting. I put up with it for a few minutes before leaning forward and politely asking her to turn it off. Which she promptly did. It saddened me that a person can't go a couple of hours without being in touch with social media. It saddened me that she needed to be asked to turn it off; that common courtesy was tossed aside because of the allure of digital communities is greater than being in the moment. I am sorry that the theatre needs to add a request to turn phones off during the show but because they hadn't, this young woman believed it was okay to use hers. Not that long ago I simply would have put up with the distraction. For me to speak up is an affirmation of how far I've come. Thank You, Jesus. "Therefore, my beloved, flee from idolatry. I speak as to wise men; judge for yourself what I say." 1 Cor 10:14

I Come to the Garden by Susan l.

Spring is around the corner. The clocks go forward Saturday. The cardinals have started singing. There's warmth in the sun. My mind turns to gardening wondering if my tiny blueberry bushes survived. The hostas need dividing. Where will I plant the offspring? Do I need to fortify my strawberries better? Don't want the racoons to clean me out again, the rascals. What am I going to put in the veggie garden. Carrots don't do well. They end up stubby. Tasty but small. More potatoes than last year? I'd like to start an asparagus patch, but where? Decisions, decisions. And joy. The crocuses , tulips and daffodils will soon be out. The lilacs will bloom, sending their sweet perfume through the yard and house. I can't wait for the twelve inches of snow in my yard to melt! ""I will plant them in their land, and no longer shall they be pulled up from the land I have given them," says the Lord your God." Amos 9:15

Never Say Never by Susan L.

Last night's PREFER meeting was different. We did a rotation around a group of tables to hear from several people employed as peer support workers. Hearing just a snippit of their story is inspiring . How every one of them has risen above the medical prognosis. Doctors who sentenced them to a bleak existance. They were told by the 'professionals' that their mental illness meant they would never work, never be able to further their education. They were classified as permanently disabled and would never have a chance at a 'normal' life. Never a home of their own. Never...never....never... In spending just a few minutes with each of them, in meeting these people who have risen above their diagnosis, their addictions. How their lives contain a richness which comes from being there for another living human person. Not because of a diploma or because they are the expert or because they have it all 'together' but simply because they have been there and lived to tell about it. I am inspired and honoured to be part of this group. My belief in the amazing power of peer support grew a thousand fold last night. I can't wait to see the impact we have. "The eyes of your understanding being enlightened;that you may know what is the hope of His calling." Eph 1:18

Hook, Line and Sinker by Susan L.

The bait has been swallowed. I am enjoying knitting. Didn't think I would, but I am. With the local department store closing, wool was a good price. The balls came with free patterns. The second hand store provided the right sized needles for a mere dollar. I could now explore this skill further at home. It took a couple of false starts and google to figure out how to knit the simple pattern I chose to begin with. I needed help to decipher the cryptic short forms. Ambitiously I started a shawl but kept losing stitches, gaining stitches and overall making a mess of things. It's ended up half as wide. A scarf is a better project to start on. What fascinates me is how a line of looped yarn over a metal rod can provide such an incredible array of patterns. How until several lines have been knit, the pattern is almost a secret held by the yarn. I'm fascinated by the carefully calculated and engineered design one single piece of yarn can embody. It's like seeing the hand of God. "Better is a little worth with the fear of the Lord, than great treasure with trouble." Prov 15:16

Joy Upon Joy by Susan L.

It was such a blessing these last couple of days despite my granddaughter making strange with me until yesterday. For the first time she put up her little arms and asked me to pick her up out of her high chair. My heart melted like pudding. Mind you, I'd been winning her affection with gifts of cheese. I was sorry to have to leave shortly after this breakthrough. My son and his partner were pleased with the quilted growth chart I made for her birthday. Nana has to bring toys,too! I bought her a couple of toy cars--girl cars so she would have her own when playing with her car loving brother. She loved them. It was wonderful having my grandson all to my self for a while, too. There is a bit of a language barrier and I am not up to date on Thomas the train but we got by, playing, reading, and flying helicopters around the basement. He has an amazing imagination. What fascinates me is how both children learned sign language before they could talk. I wish I had known about it when my son was a baby. When a one year old bundle of joy can tell us thick headed grownups what they want: hungry, more, no more, all done, and several other signs it takes a huge chunk out of the guess work in parenting. It makes you realize there's more going on in those beautiful little heads than we sometimes give them credit for. "There are, it may be, so many languages in the world, and none of them is without significance." 1 Cor 14:10

Away Again by Susan L.

I'm off this morning to Sarnia. A family visit to see my grandchildren. It was my granddaughter's first birthday while I was away so I go bearing gifts. Not just from me but from great gramma, too. The car's gassed up. The tire pressure checked. My duffle bag is packed. All I need to do is stop at a small town bakery that makes the best pies ever. I may or may not blog. If not, may you have a most enjoyable weekend. "Commit your way to the Lord, trust also in Him." Ps 37:5

The Stuff of Dreams by Susan L.

All week I've been waking up with a song in my head. Not because of the alarm clock, it just buzzes in a most irritating way. The songs have been full orchestral arrangements spanning everything from Colonel Bogey's march to the old WWII song, A Nightengale Sang in Berkeley Square. This morning it was the love song from the 80's movie Superman: Can You Read My Mind? It's a nice way to wake up because there's been a lot of dreams lately that have broken my sleep. Vivid, full length feature films like finding bargain art supplies in a giant warehouse. What's with that? And honestly, that's the only one I remember with any clarity. Oh, and it turned out they weren't on sale. Come on! This is my dream. Give me a break! Who knows what all this means. Forget Freud, I need a Joseph. "So Joseph answered Pharoah, saying, " It is not in me: God will give Pharoah an answer of peace." Gen 41:16