Cares

   "We also pray that you will be strengthened with all His glorious power so you will have all the endurance and patience you need." Colossians 1:11

  My eyes are healing. The ear, not so much. It still feels like a bucket of water is sloshing around in my head. I am still off work because head stuff always comes with a cough. It's drained my energy, too, this having to strain to hear coupled with how hard the body is working to get better. Although energy does come in fits and bursts.

  I did a jigsaw puzzle over the last few days. A knitted vest is getting closer to being finished. After doing so much for others, I wanted to do something for myself. It was finished once but was too small so I ripped the whole thing out and started again because I like the yarn. There's something mesmerizing about watching the process. It often leaves me wondering who invented knitting? 

  Birdwatching is a favorite past time. I love the variety that come to the feeder. The Juncos in their tuxedos. The Chickadees with their pert little voices. The Mourning Doves fly in on whistling wings. A Downy woodpecker is a frequent visitor. Yesterday there was even a flash of crimson when a male cardinal stopped by to check things out. There's probably a half dozen more bird types that visit and a couple of mammals bundled up in squirrel fur. One of them has quite a few white patches in his black coat so it's easy to identify him.

  The TV has been on. Yesterday was spent watching a bad disaster movie marathon.

  As the knitting needles click, my mind wanders. It keeps returning to a postcard memory from long ago. We must have been camping somewhere. I was a little girl. To be up after dark was a rare treat. The night summer air was still and cool. I remember standing in the middle of the road under a streetlight. The tarmac radiated warmth from the day. Turning and spinning, I watched bats fly over head. They swooped and dove, hunting for the insects attracted by the light. I wasn't afraid of them because the sounds they made were fascinating. No one else could hear them. Just me.

  I haven't been able to hear them for a long time. 

  Now I have to ask, why does this make me so sad?

  Why am I so afraid my ear will be permanently damaged?

  Cause I am, you know, afraid.

  

Assurance

   "Do not be afraid or discouraged, for Lord will personally go ahead of you. He will be with you; He will neither fail you nor abandon you." Deuteronomy 31:18

  It's earlier than I cared to be up this morning but my brain started racing before the alarm sounded. Not that going to work is on the agenda today. Pink eye has been added to the illness mix. It's in both eyes. I look like I have the world's worst hangover. It kind of feels that way, too.

  In the midst of all the health challenges, I've been thinking a lot about my job and the emotional toll it has caused over the last couple of weeks. It's not what I signed up for. It's not what it was pre-covid.

  On the way to the police station to deliver the dolls the other day, I drove through the downtown core. It's identical to a thousand million other small towns in North America. One of the visitors was standing on the sidewalk. It wasn't the nicest day to be outside but they don't have somewhere to go to be inside. It has been at the forefront of my thoughts since then: a postcard memory seared into the synapses of the mind.

  

  Early in my Christian walk, I asked the Lord what lay in my future and until I drove past this person, it had completely slipped my mind. Jesus gave me a vision of a concrete world with noisy traffic and city smells. There was no green anywhere. It was an oppressive and hope swallowing place. It was both bitterly cold and tongue caking hot.

  It left me feeling utterly devastated that God would ask me to go there when He knew how much I hate cities.

  Fast forward eighteen years and here I am, in town, working in a concrete jungle that has gradually grown busier and busier over the years. It smells like a city with the perpetual aroma of car exhaust tainting the air. There is very little green except for a few straggling trees. Nevertheless, here I am doing exactly what the Lord had in store for me. Serving those who need it the most. And it comes with a paycheck. 

  As for the emotional cost? The day the people I serve no longer touch my heart is the day I need to quit.

Distraction

   "May all my thoughts be pleasing to Him, for I rejoice in the Lord." Psalm 104:34

  I ended up at the doctor's again today. My eardrum blew. It's very painful so I thought I'd write a bit to try and distract myself.

  She was totally blown away by the difference since yesterday. 

  It came on fast last night. One minute my ear was fine, the next it was clogged. I thought it might be because of the weather; the storm that's dropping wet snow by the bucketful. Barometric pressure headaches are not unusual. 

  Earlier today, the eardrum let go. It sounded like a balloon when you squeeze the end and let the air out. 

  It happened again just before I called the doc. 

  It's no wonder babies cry when they have sore ears.

  I joked with the doctor, saying I am not a wuss about pain. After she confirmed my diagnosis, she smiled and said, "Yes, a torn eardrum is very painful! No. You are not a wuss."

  I like her, a lot.

  She was more taken aback by the fact I was her 4th such person this week. Makes you wonder what's going on.

  Fever and conspiracy theories are not a good combination so I'll let this go.

  The doc also advised me to get a hearing test done once things have healed. It could take as long as a month. Please pray there is no permanent damage. 

  Today, I am grateful. For the health care system we have here. For the means to pay for the medicine. Having access to the medicine is a blessing.

  I am grateful for the snowstorm appointment cancellations even though it was a bit dicey getting up the hill...speedometer read 80, the car was only doing 30 as the wheels spun in the slush. I don't know if I could have waited until tomorrow to see her.

  I am most grateful for my friend who got out a selection of essential oils to use as a decongestant. She's going to pick up my scripts on her way home from work. I am grateful most of all that I am not having to do everything on my own. 

  Oh...and thank you Lord, for the inventors of Advil. 

Heard

   "Furthermore, because we are united with Christ, we have received an inheritance from God, for He chose us in advance, and He makes everything work out according to His plan." Ephesians 1:1

  I am just back from seeing my family doctor to talk with her about what happened at the hospital. She was very surprised to hear about the pain I experienced having a polyp removed. It's unusual. In five years, she's only heard of a couple of women who have felt any sort of major pain.

  We discussed possible scenarios should this procedure need to happen again in the future. There's a chance the polyp could grow back. She told me I have the right to ask for an anesthetic of some sort. There's options from full out sedation, partial sedation or a spinal. It may mean a longer wait time but I'll gladly wait rather than go through what happened again. The cost to my mental health is too high.

  She was more concerned about my inability to stop the doctor from proceeding and affirmed that I had every right to have done so. I needed to hear that. I needed to be told it was okay. I guess crying out in pain wasn't enough. I didn't say the magic word...stop.

  Man, I am a mess...I left the doctor's office feeling validated and heard. More importantly, I felt cared for. She even checked out my blood pressure (it's a bit high,) then throat and ears and listened to me hack up a lung thanks to this virus. 

  Prior to Christmas, I'd knit up a slew of small stuffed dolls and toys. It seemed like a good day to take them to the police station for the officers to use. They often carry stuffed toys in their cruisers to have on hand whenever a call involves children. The donation was greatly appreciated.

  Maybe I knit them to try and capture some innocence. Maybe I knit them to try and stave off the dissonance that was birthed in the hospital. Triggered memories of traumatic events create this shadowland that has the potential to swallow you whole. Even though I celebrate and am fully aware that Jesus is with me, the joy in this knowledge feels like it's at war with the gamut of dark thoughts and irrepressible emotions. Maybe it is. Maybe the joy is trying to vanquish the shadows. 

  I feel like I have my feet in two worlds.

  Stop. Please, stop. 

  And maybe, tomorrow, I'll feel a whole lot better. Heck...maybe all I need is a nap.

  

 

  

  

Drawing Near

 "Teach me your ways, O Lord, that I may live according to your truth! Grant me purity of heart, so that I may honour you." Psalm 86:11

  Whatever bug has decided to take up residence in this ole body is preventing me from attending church this morning. It's the kind of morning I desperately needed to go, to worship, to pray, to draw near my Lord. Thankfully, I wasn't playing the flute this morning because the decision was made in December to take January off. God knew, didn't He? 

  The time off is doing double duty because it's an opportunity to get my flute serviced which takes about three weeks. It was starting to randomly squeak. Turns out, the keys need an alignment. They are also going to take a look at the tuning because it plays very sharp and I need to have the headpiece out almost an inch to get it in tune to the other musicians. There is a special cork in the headpiece that can be adjusted but that's better left to those who know what they are doing!

  I keep circling back to the events of the past week, trying to wrap my head around everything: the actual events, the triggered memories, the emotional upwelling that comes with all of this. It's hard to not let it weigh me down too much because, as much as there is a boatload of ugly, I need to focus on Jesus' presence and acknowledge He was there. He always is.

  He waits for us to turn our eyes on Him no matter where we are in life. 

  I wish I could share this with the person who was resurrected this week. I wish I could share of all the things God put in place to make this happen. I wish I could tell them how much they are loved, regardless of their life circumstances and situations.

  Their shame is keeping them away. 

  Sadly, the seduction song of drugs means they will do it all over again and I have no idea if there will be someone there to save them. I ask this of You, Lord, save them as many times as it takes.

  I would love for their testimony to be an amazing story of lost and found because you know something? All of us are lost in some form or another without Jesus. It's exactly where the devil wants us: floundering about in the shadowlands, blinded and in pain. 

 There are those in this world who make a profit from it. They make money because pain causes the need, the need causes pain which amplifies the need. It's a perpetually set fowler's snare.

  One of my favorite books, a tale of rabbits called Watership Down, has a part where one of the rabbits gets caught by a snare. The others team up to help him escape. One of the group knew enough about the shining wire to dig out the peg that was buried deep in the ground. It's what held the wire tight. It took the biggest rabbits to dig and the smallest rabbits to go into the hole and chew the stake apart. Bigwig was freed once the taught wire was released.

  I am left thinking that the peg is a metaphor for the untold stories, the secrets, the experiences leading to a need for mind numbing substances including alcohol. 

  There is always, always a peg.

  Some of us are simply better at hiding it.

  

  

  

  

  

  

  

  

  

In A Name

   "The Lord is watching everywhere, keeping his eye on both the evil and the good." Proverb 15:3

  I heard someone call someone else, "It." 

  This exchange is weighing heavily on my heart, triggering the memories of when I was treated as one, too. No one ever called me this to my face. They didn't have to. Neglect, disregard, and oppression drove home the lesson that I was sub-human and not worth the air I breathed.

  On top of all that has happened this week, my health has taken a hit and is struggling to fight one of the many viruses that are floating around. 

  I was talking with my friend about what happened and came to realize of all the names, of all the insults humans have to fire at each other, this one is not about how someone is behaving. 

  I and T together are two letters that suffocate the light of another person's existence. 

  Even if IT is only in our thoughts! Merely thinking IT of another human being warps our perceptions of just how valuable that person is to Jesus.

  Decades ago, I spoke up...one of the very few times I ever did...when my ex brother-in-law referred to his current girlfriend multiple times in a row as, "It." 

  He was standing, leaning against the kitchen counter with a never-ending beer in his hand. I was sitting at the table. My first reaction was shock that he would even use such a name for her. Then I leapt up. I didn't shout or scream. I simply looked him in the eyes and used my momma bear voice...low, succinct and projected. It was my serious, line-in-the-sand voice that would make my children sit up and take notice.

  "She is not an IT! She is a person! I never want to hear you say that about her again." 

  He was very surprised because he had never seen me as angry as I was. He never used this term within my hearing again. However, if he used it about someone he was supposed to love to the point he actually proposed to her, for sure my ex used this expression as well. They were two peas in a pod who saw women as objects, as sub-human. 

  The girlfriend said, "No." They broke up shortly after. 

  God intervened and got me out of there not long after all this took place.

  Like so many years ago, I intervened yesterday. It was all I could do to remain calm and in control even though I was transported through time to the kitchen at the farm. God enabled me to remain present enough to deal with what was happening in the moment. 

  I am a peacemaker. It is part of who God calls me to be. If it takes a momma bear voice, I give thanks that God gave me one and the insight to use it as needed.

  I'll say this, though, I hate flashbacks. They are extremely powerful memories. They come without warning. The scent of beer filled my nostrils yesterday. It hasn't completely gone away yet.

   The hardest part is remembering my own inner self from those days. How I felt. Who I thought I was and the lies I believed about myself all climb aboard the flashback lightening bolt. You literally become who you once were through the force of memory.

  It takes time to recover, to un-remember these things because God has poured new life into me over the last couple of decades. I am not the same women I was sitting at the kitchen table.

  Maybe I need to pay her some honor today. Despite feeling like an invisible woman, I spoke up against what I knew was wrong. Despite being so afraid all the time, I said something to my ex brother-in-law.

  And yesterday? Even thought the flashback nearly overwhelmed my mind, I spoke up because it mattered.

  Girl? God was with you at the farm. He was with you yesterday. And will be with you through all the tomorrows yet to come. 

  AMEN!

 

  

  

Divine Timing

   "Give justice to the poor and the orphan; uphold the rights of the oppressed and the destitute. Rescue the poor and helpless; deliver them from the grasp of evil people." Psalm 82:3-4

  A life was saved yesterday.

  My co-worker felt a sense of urgency to deliver Naloxone kits to work on Saturday. She does not work Saturday. We are not open on the weekend.

  Our supply of kits was completely gone until she refilled our cupboard.

  Yesterday, it was nearing closing. A group had gathered out front and I felt a sense of urgency to go outside and join them. I confess to being a smoker. Joining the group outside is a great way to connect with people and get to know them.

  A person staggered up to the group obviously under the influence of something. Someone encouraged them to sit on the steps before they fell down. Minutes later, this person fell face first to the ground. They were not breathing. There was no heartbeat.

  We had only received our Naloxone training at the start of December. It is not hard. It is a nasal spray designed to offset the lethal impact of an opioid overdose. The team came together and acted as a unit to do what needed to be done to save a life.

  The sound of sirens was music to my ears.

  Seeing the person who had been dead climb into the ambulance was one of the most beautiful sights I have ever seen.

  Had my co-worker not delivered the kits, had I not been outside, had the team not been trained, had this person not come to the centre, the outcome could have been drastically different. 

  I know there are people out there who feel an overdose death means one less addict on the streets. I know there are people who feel those who die got their just desserts because of their lifestyle choices.

  Then why did God orchestrate all the things that needed to happen to save this life? And why this life? Why not all the others who have died due to an accidental overdose?

  It's a question I have no answer to and probably won't until I have the chance to ask Him personally.

  Very few people overdose with the intent to die by suicide.

  If you are a recreational drug user, keep a Naloxone kit with you at all times. Make sure it's visible and easily found by others because it's not just the hard drugs that are laced with opioids. Fentanyl is showing up in marihuana purchased on the streets. It may be cheaper than buying it at a store (cannabis is legal in Canada) but the risk is huge.   

  The number of accidental overdose deaths is exploding. There were five suspected such deaths in our town last week. There were nearly 25 overdose events that required EMS services.

  Sons and daughters, brothers and sisters are dying. It is not just the homeless. It's everywhere and I have no idea how to stop it except to say to everyone: 

 Get a Naloxone kit or two from your pharmacy. 

 They are free.

 Familiarize yourself with how to use it because the next accidental overdose could happen to someone you know and love.