Today our women's group made a craft for christmas. Each of us took a string of lights and gently pushed each one into the hole of a glass box. Then we glued flowers and bells amidst the ribbons and bows. Some used bits of green or feathers, others white doves.

I tend to be" a less is more" kind of person especially when working at a craft as usually I can't wait to finish. Before completion, I would have made a thousand mistakes, pricked my finger, glued everywhere and then looked in awe at my friends with their perfect models .

Good work deserves praise and despite my inadequate attempt at the design.I do really express my admiration for their efforts . However, their self appreciative smiles would re-inforce my sense of failure. I can fill a library with books of crafts attended and failed. My house is a silent witness to my efforts as yarn and looms of every description jostled for space with fabric and machines.The neglected appliances designed to get a special seam or stitch lie idle taking up room. My low craft IQ is a definite handicap when you are in the company of these ladies who seem to be able to give lessons to Martha Stewart.

Today was different. My flowers were a bit lopsided between the bows but that was soon remedied and I had the confidence to make another box for my friend. There is no bigger thrill for me than to give a friend something of beauty made by my hands. I floated on air. I did not need to look at others. I was happy with mine. In my euphoria I went on a three mile hike to the nearest fabric shop.

As I walked, I reflected on how easy this craft was and imagined a book of easy crafts like it called "Easy crafts for ten thumbed

people".

Time flew as I day- dreamed and all too soon I reached the shop.

There I bought some leaves to make an autumnal tree, four pieces of fabric from the remnant section and some number 90 needles to sew the burgundy vinyl I bought to match floral brown with deep splashes of burgundy. I hope to make two purses sometime but if I never get to it, today, at least I'm happy.

Sunshades in the shadows

The 33 rd miner was composed as he quietly listened to his president. Earlier, I saw other reunions and wondered at their

at the self restraint of the relatives as each patiently waited for the Phoenix to emerge from the bowels of the earth. They had stayed for seventy days. Did they hold their breath during the last fifteen minutes of that wait? How do you greet the men you've missed so long with the whole world watching. Decorously, I guess. These dignified ladies who had the faith to hope despite the overwhelming odds now has the joy of certainty.

Sometimes, unusual events create faith and I feel God close. Then the crisis ends and and I go weak at the knees. Coping with routine is so much harder. Doubtless, the time may come when these men would be asked to pick up their socks from the floor or take the garbage out. Normalcy will bring its own healing struggles so to night , I thank God for giving the world a miracle, giving us a day to rejoice. For the ladies and other relatives who kept vigil by the tunnel, for all the people involved in this quilt of cooperation, may normal life bring strength.

Retreat into real living

Home after four days at Laity Lodge which is in a Canyon in Texas. Framed by mountains with a reluctant river fringing most of the buildings, I could not help but think of the importance of Gardens to our spiritual well-being. God intended man's first home to be a garden. The Lodge consisted of all the essential elements: a variety of plant life-trees, flowers and shrubs. There were animals in the ground and birds in the air. There were fountains and sculpture, swings and hammocks. Even man made things blended with nature. The cottages were made of wood with beautifully functional furniture and furnishings. The folks around the Lodge providing delicious food and personal touches of service in an attitude of willingness to meet my needs. These exquisitively beautiful features interacting together gave a tremendous sense of harmony and peace that soothed and refreshed my spirit.

Beyond reach of phones, in the absence of television and radio, the word retreated and the peace of this garden park, slowly enveloped my spirit. So the healing began.

Loving an apple

It was Saturday night and I had lots I was hoping to do when the lights flickered once, twice three times. I hurried to get a candle. Fortunately, I knew where the matches were and after a couple of bumps in the dark, I found them. The light was not bright enough to read by and I did not think it was a good idea to tidy my wardroom with a naked flame.

Going to bed seemed the best option so I thought that I could check my email which is part of my bed time routine. This was unsuccessful because of the power cut. I had bought a laptop two years ago but was not enjoying it. Felt frustrated and dis-engaged. Could not down load Spiders. Now with nothing to do, I clicked on the windows which I had never opened and stumbled across some I didn't know existed.

In the dark, I became hooked. I dashed from window to window until my battery went out. So much knowledge at my fingertips. All the shortcuts which could have made my life so much easier were just waiting to be found. Despite the awesome sermon on Sunday morning and lovely luncheon that followed, I waited impatiently for Sunday evening to have another adventure.

Being in love changed my attitude and reminded me that there are always solutions to difficult problems. Help can sometimes be nearer than we think . Sometimes we need to have more confidence to explore uncharted places as well as patience with ourselves as we muster the courage for the unknown. One day, I'll even find Spiders but now spending time with my apple is one of the highlights of my day. Thank you God for the blackout which helped me to see so much.

The Son and sun

Six months have passed since death brought winter to my heart. as I left my footprints in the graveyard snow. I am slowly adjusting to a fatherless life. It is not the same but it was never meant to be. Each day brings enough opportunities to make it unique. Summer has helped. The colorful flowers that garland our mountain sides and fringe our lawns lift my spirit and the sun on my skin makes me glad to be alive. So, I decided to tackle my mail which was unread and unsorted for months. In the middle of this overdue project, news of my brother's collapse brought the shadow of death too close for comfort. The circumstances were similar to my dad's . This time I did not even try to negotiate with God. I did not feel like praying except to have an attitude of acceptance to God's will. Jehovah God is Father and I often think of Him as all powerful and so holy that it is hard not to fear Him. On the other hand, Jesus is my mediator who can plead my cause in divine terms. I often imagine Him translating a human dilemma or emotion in heavenly language so that God can understand and forgive.

It was very supportive to know that others were praying as I did my utmost to contain my anxiety. In spite of the summer sunshine, my heart became cold with fear as I felt stalked by the shadow. Now that my brother is at home, thankfulness has edged the coldness from my heart. In times like these, we find new sign posts on our faith journey. Faith may not always bring an assurance of success but it gives me the certainty that God is love and that He is interested in what I am and do. He does have control of the seasons of my life.

Another match

Since Shrove Tuesday, the days pass punctuated by desperate yearnings to see by dad again. I realized that he tried to prepare me for this period of my life and the thought of his care and foreknowledge of how I'd feel or be just emphasized the enormity of my loss..the father who mothered me, the best friend who supported me and the father who made my world safe. As I said before:"He's at peace while I'm in pieces". One should not cry when someone is in the presence of Jesus. I know full well the tears are for myself. God promised to make my bed and I trust in his unfailing love. He also promised to care for the fatherless and so I know He has another reason to care for me..

Even as a grief counsellor, well acquainted with grief, I did not expect this engulfing darkness. Yet beauty is dependent on what is reflccted by light . Therefore, I pray that in my darkness, beautiful pictures would be painted by God.

Playing the game

Today, I almost had my canine tooth for dessert. Fortunately, its tastelessness and rough edges made me take a closer look. It had broken off at the base but the barely visible stump of my tooth was covered in black colored adhesive.. This appeared as decay so I phoned my dentist immediately. In less than two hours, my tooth was repaired and I had recovered from going to the dentist without a vigorous brushing of teeth before such a visit.

Hours before, I had heard of the suicide of a colleague making me punch drunk. My father’s death was acknowledged at a meeting as I sat becalmed on a sea of solitude as conversation lapped like waves around me.

For the first time in my life, I do not want to go out to work. I really don’t want to do anything. I go through motions of activity and am relieved when I can make a decision, complete a task. My lethargy defies my good intentions and sabotages my plans.

I get home and phoned my mother keeping the promise that I made as she sobbed when I left. I asked her to watch television to keep her mind active in an attempt to slow down the ravages of Alzheimer’s. She thoughtfully agreed with me but without my dad, I worry how she’d pass the time. She did not tell me that my sister became very upset as she packed up my father’s belongings. I did not mention it. But a strange thing happened, my sister’s tears and brother’s upset did not affect me today.

Despite the topsy -turvy time, I feel less flattened by unknown weights, the sea of grief that daily threatens to wash my life away seemed less ferocious . So tonight, Shrove Tuesday, I celebrate my best day in three months.

Sunset and evening star

And one clear call for me!

And may there be no moaning of the bar

When I put out to sea.

My Dad has heard the one clear call.

Tennyson hoped that there be no sadness of farewell when he embarked.

I guess my dad wished that too-in vain because tonight I am indescribably sad

I have so many excuses for feeling like this. I grieve for my siblings who didn't have him as long. I grieve for my mom who has to adjust to widowhood without the comfort and support of her most trusted companion. I grieve for my nephews for whom he was a loved father figure. I grieve for my cousins who have lost their last uncle. But grief is so selfish. . I weep because tomorrow , I begin my fatherless journey and he won't be there to share the traveling tales or help with the repairs of the road. This is a journey, we must take however delayed, part of our developmental cycle. Interestingly, it does not appear to be a significant part of any theory of aging

KNowinfg my dad loved me and lived a long life does not make me less abandoned. Babies and I have something in common.

Moving on

Some one said that you only begin to live when you are ready to die. While some brave individuals may achieve readiness to die in their personal lives, it can be more difficult to function satisfacorily with the impending death of some one loved. You believe that you accept the terminal nature of their illness until something occurs that makes you hope again. Or the situation deteriorates and your grief returns even greater than before. Living on this sea=saw of hope and fear, despair and elation soon take its toll.

Although episodes of stress can provide opportunities of growth, physiologically, we cannot live as adrenalin junkies. Living in a constant state of anticipatory grief impairs function. Incredible people spend years with a sick child or spouse nursing hope to have their options dry out time and time again.

Sorrow is specific to each person. I am slowly letting go of the anxieties of things I cannot control or change. I try not to feel guilty that my situation gives me a respite from the day to day care-taking but I pray for strength for those who do . I remember and celebrate their unselfishness. God promised "as my days , so shall my strength be". I summon up strength for each day by removing anything to darken the shadows. So I try to be especially kind and patient. I cleared the air with a former friend. After losing the baggage of petty strife, I try to exercise and enjoy my hobbies. I will also make some plans for life is best when lived with all its possiblities. Weeping may endure for months of nights but morning always comes as God signs his name in shades of dawn.

Living in the Shadows

It is a month since my dad became ill. Three weeks ago, I started this strange journey in the shadows. We were invited into the quiet room of this teaching hospital and in the presence ot the chaplain told of our dad's poor prognosis. Earlier, we had committed Dad to God 's care but the pain of impending loss was almost unbearable. I stayed the night and following day in the ICU making my own special bargain with God and his condition stabilized. Two days later he was on the ward. He watched television and spoke a little . We thought that the bleeding in his brain had stopped. One day, he regained his swallowing reflex and ate all his meals. Next day, he could no longer swallow but the nurse assured us that he would go home after a period of rehabilitation. That day, I thanked God for a miracle.

We left the hospital walking on air. the sentence was lifted. Three hours later, the hospital called and asked us about resuscitation. They already knew. On January, 3rd as I visited him in another ICU, I read the Scriptures and prayed with him. I tried to sing but could not control my voice. I asked pointed questions. The drips hung from stands without being attached to his vein and I questioned his nutritional status. He slowly weakened and we thought that he won't make it . but he returned to the ward . Some days he was pyrexial,. some days not. Dad did leave the hospital and is now being cared for at home. As we celebrate each new day, we are brought back to reality by words like "hospice" and "morphine". These emotive words suggest limited time. But, every day in the last three weeks has been a bonus. Despite the crippling weight of impending loss, the ceaseless fight against creeping lethargy that dogs my days, I am learning to live with gratitude. All too soon, I'll be a fatherless child. My dad still has some lessons to teach me. Death is a part of life and can cast long shadows. Living in them is like visiting a foreign country. You may not know the rules or customs but you use a guide when possible. You enjoy the adventure.