Three hundred and sixty five days

Yesterday has gone since twenty four minutes ago. I returned home twice on my way to work for my phone and credit cards that I did not find. I phoned my assistant and asked Do I have to come to work today or can I work from home? She reminded me of a meeting at 1 , some training at 5.30p.m so I knew that meant that it was business as usual. For an anxious hour I searched for the missing cards before finding them in a very safe location.

It seemed an ordinary day and yet, a year ago, my heart was overwhelmed with grief which shattered my life. So I shared the night with the sleepless; the endless tears, silent and uncomforting. I recall brief moments of respite as "Let it be" echoed in my head. It was such a surprise that this poignant lyric helped in a way the great hymns I love did not.

There is an" insanity" in loss. One day , I could not stop the tears because my dad lay buried under a heavy snow storm. When the brilliance of spring sunshine made me want to dance, I began to sob because, it was a day he could not enjoy. I even thought how unkind parents were to die before their children. I knew I was irrational but I cried anyway. While the tears drenched my spirit, and apathy threatened to cripple , life continued to demand its celebrations: anniversaries, birthdays and ceremonial events. Each of these was a guidepost. Each pointed the way to a different place. Pain is part of the human experience. It often signals growth. It usually spells change as we adjust and adapt.

I am more mindful of my father than when he was alive. His thoughts live in my head as he urges me to live my best life. Decades ago, he told me that I was brave, In the aftermath of his passing, for weeks I hid under the bed . However, I have had a good year without him and knowing how much I loved him, I am sure, he's cheering my achievement. I take him in my future, not as a sentimental talisman but rather as a reflection of his values and beliefs. I know that there is no night in heaven and a thousand days are but one but I hope that there are anniversaries there and that he had a great time. We'll meet again.

Grieflands

It is January 13th, the birthday of my oldest brother. This year, he has achieved a significant milestone as well as he has become the senior male member of our family. So on Saturday, we had an early celebration. As a teenager, he helped our dad on his eighteen seater boat. Dad rewarded him and us by giving us the boat to go on picnics along the river. My mother fretted that folk would be very critical if there was an accident. My father declared that my brother loved the boat as much as he did and would act responsibly. My brother never let him down. To remind him of those days, his birthday cake was crowned with a jaunty boat and the name "Pomeroon Pilgrim" was etched in blue on its side. Everyone enjoyed themselves and no one wished that Dad was there. Another milestone was successfully passed across the track of grief.

The Christmas tree was decorated early but in my forced attempt at normality , too much emotional energy was expended. The boxes of cards I had bought were opened but week after week remained unwritten. My annual family letter stayed on the to do list as I tried to make sense of my internal voices. Some asked me to go easy on myself. After all, I have lost the most cherished person in my life. Healing takes time. Other voices urge me not to be self-indulgent with the ceaseless reminders that I have so much for which to be thankful. "Though much is taken , much remain" is still as true as when first written. Despite my father's loss, I am grateful for the good things in my life and I'm deeply thankful for the time I was blessed just being his daughter. After Christmas 2009, my brother-in-law cried (to his wife's annoyance as she did not want to cry too) when dad left because he felt that that would be his last holiday with him. We all coped with anticipatory grief according to our temperament as the shadow of death inched ever closer. Then death arrived!

December, 2010,we enjoyed a Christmas Eve meal with invited friends. Christmas night all my sisters and their families with my mother slept under one roof. At 1.20 am on December 26th, we celebrated surviving our first Christmas with sighs of relief. Another milestone had passed and over the three days , we adapted and adjusted to a world without our dad. Going through the motions has brought me to a different stage of my journey; further along than if I had stayed in the paralysis of grief. Sometimes, it is hard to even do that but it is always worth the effort. My brother's party was a big effort but it signaled that I can look beyond myself and I know that one day, my journey across Griefland would be over because the God who gives us new, clean hearts can repair broken ones.

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.