Bees in My Bonnet

I turned 48 last month. My sister turned 50 this week. I'm beginning to measure life through the lens of decades rather than years. I can frame who I was, what I was, how I lived, where I lived, who I lived with, in pockets of time, and now I near the end of the 5th pocket of time, the pocket of decades. Timo's accident last year was like being put in a washing machine - the kind with the window in front, where every few turns you see the splash of bright colour of a favourite garment, only to be whisked away and replaced by earthtones and stained dishrags. It felt like the world was spinning and I was spinning with it, and being disoriented, and confused, and drowning. Truth be told, it wasn't just last year that was like that...it's been much of my life. I can measure seasons of depression and disorientation through the lens of adolescent life, transitioning countries, relational transitions - from daughter, to friend,  to student, to teacher, to single, to married, t...

 I just began to journal...and it made me realize I never concluded the previous saga of the lost wallet. There is more  to that story, I tell you.  My journal began..."Sometimes I think my brain got fried. The ability - really, the capacity - of my soul to hold grief, pain, trauma, suffering, silencing - I'm guessing has been greater  than most. I used to think of myself differently; blaming myself for being weak, fragile, IN-capable. But if I honestly look at my life journey, I must arrive at a different conclusion than before.  I sacrificed myself on the altar of survival ." I stopped there.  Yes, that last line describes decades of my life. I needed to find a way through, a way to cope and survive as a mother of young children, in a struggling marriage, in a world that has normal everyday demands that a severely depressed person can barely hold up underneath. It's not the world's fault. It's not having children, or a husband, or any of these things that...

 On January 18, Sam and I headed out to a dinner to celebrate (with his work colleagues) their accomplishments from the previous year. I remember thinking how nice it was of them to treat us all to a lovely meal in an upscale restaurant, and noticed with gratitude, that I didn't need to pull out my wallet to pay for our meal. I was so aware of not needing to do this, that upon returning home that evening, as soon as I walked in the door, I noticed my wallet was missing. I checked everywhere - my coat, purse, the car, under seats, on the ground outside the car. I realized I had lost my wallet at that dinner. And I was super annoyed. We called the restaurant. They had already closed. We waited until the next day, and called again. We were SO hopeful that it had been picked up by the staff or seen in the parking lot. But no - there was no sign of the wallet. And so began the saga of the Lost Wallet. I didn't know it would be a saga. I told myself not to worry. I could be alright w...

 I realize people of Christian faith, people of other faith, and people of no particular faith, read this blog. And all are welcome here. Thing is, I sometimes ponder my own life of faith through an external-journalistic eye, and pronounce my own opinions of myself: Sarah, your faith is just crazy. Even in my prayers, I express this directly to the God I believe is there: "Lord, is this just a fanatical, pie-in-the-sky sentimental thing that I do - praying to You? I sometimes feel crazy trusting You this much ." Here I am, in those moments, asking God if He thinks I'm as crazy as I seem to think myself. Sometimes I trust God so wildly, so boldly, so almost-stupidly, that I think I'm more than a few cards short of a full-deck. And then I tell God what I think of my trusting Him so much - I analyze it and say, "There's a word for this in psychological terms: Magical thinking."  Lately I've been trying to wrap my head around this concept: magical thinki...

 It has been over a week since my Mom took her last breath on this earth and her first one in Glory. As if the grief of my life has not filled my cup to the brim, God seems to step in and say, 'Your cup is bigger than you knew...' I don't know if this thought is supposed to be encouraging or what. Maybe more of the 'what' in my case. And maybe God doesn't say that at all. Maybe that is my mind playing tricks on me. How does one actually  hear from God? I will not presume to answer this question, though it can be explored through the pages of Holy Writ (which I hold to be the Holy Bible). Beyond that, we do have historical church figures who give us perspective based on their own reading of Scripture and a lifetime of following after Jesus, albeit, imperfectly. I wonder if anyone will come along after me on their journey of faith and take clues from my experience? No matter, I will journey just the same. Not for their sake, but for mine. (Call me ego-centric if y...

This time is like a conversation. I open my heart and say all the things - Sometimes nice things, Upsetting things, Confusing things. They’re all there, and I just say it all:  I don’t hold back. I imagine You curiously listening. You let it all come out, even when I’m frustrated. Especially when I’m frustrated. There is no slamming the door on our conversation. You are patient. Then there is a stillness - a pause. I wait. Maybe now You will speak. Maybe now I can hear. The pages of Your book are open before me: What might You say? You are alive in me - Of course in the words of the book too! The Spirit draws my eyes to read Your words. Oh You did hear me!  Your words soak into this parched soul. And I am satisfied.

A month ago I was meeting with some friends and confessing how I struggle to do the normal medical updates of, like, going to the doctor for an annual physical ('What's with going to the doctor when you're not sick? It's like another chore!') Or, if I did make it to the checkup, to actually schedule all the follow-up things that they send you to.  I've written about having A.D.D. (I like to term it: Alternately Designed Diva), here before, but this is just one more peek into what it's like to live with chronic distraction, impulsivity, procrastination and bizarre rabbit trail hunting. A.D.D. never goes away. It is with me for life. It has affected every area of my life, and the medical realm is not left out of it's clutches. That's why A.D.D. sufferers (and, those who wear it proudly!) need many supports to keep us on track. Like friends. You know, friends who know   things - and will DO things, like, text you the name and number of a dermatologist y...

I've Been to the netherworld Of that emotive abyss From whence it seems there is no return. "Return, I must," I said, After a taste of that horror - Once scathed, Twice bathed, in Darkness that pretends all power. Impossibility of return, Forces my gauntlet down: "I will not drown here,  far from the banks of home." Determined, I rise. "You can't have me." The God I love - He has me. Even in the abyss. "With confidence I now draw nigh." I, though frail, weak, and overcome Refuse to believe this netherworld is where I belong. "Give me the wings of faith," I cry, And I fly,  With barely a whimper, Only to find I have no breath, No tears. Even grief requires too much. I fear the light will not shine, That the darkness will overcome it. Doubt, drowning, dungeons of sorrow: To escape is not my path. Freedom lies in burrowing deeper, To find the bedrock: Surety for my soul - That I am kept, held fast . Then the building can begin.  Th...

 These past two weeks have been harrowing for me as I came down with covid, and traversed very dark days where I struggled to breathe and stay alive. I'd like to say it was all rosy and I had faith in God throughout this ordeal. On some level, I did - I had confidence God would do His good will, and I trust He defines 'good' not I. Whatever comes from His hand, I will welcome, be it life or death. I simply did not like the process  of what I thought might be death: it was terribly painful and uncomfortable. It was discouraging to try to take gulps of air and watch the oximeter barely make it above 90%. I had to focus all my energy on breathing. I also was unable to read (headaches, can't keep eyes focused), watch anything (it seems pointless, the imaginative dramas produced by human imagination - though I know there are rich treasures in film and drama - I just couldn't focus on it), write, think clearly, converse with anyone. I had nothing I could really do other t...