Slaves Today

Human beings are not property. ~ Kofi Annan

Last night’s supper for trafficked women made me think of a project that I did on the topic when I was in university. It was really eye opening for me. I cannot even begin to describe the horrors that women and children face in the modern-day slave trade. I went on to read more about the issue and to attend the odd event that took place.

I think next year, I should buy a table at the dinner so that my friends could join me and also be enlightened. The topic still does not receive enough attention. Most people think that it is something that happens “over there” like in Thailand and don’t relate it to their own city. Winnipeg has lots of missing women and children. How many were turned into prostitutes will never be known.

One of the requests last night was to pray about the situation and to become more educated on it. I remember when I had a conversation about this topic with women they knew about domestic slaves, mail order brides, prostitutes, and the like, but they never stopped to consider the slaves of the garment factory. What label are you wearing on your clothes and where were they made?

When I was in East DR Congo the women in the picture were learning a trade so that they could be self-sufficient and not have to sell themselves on the street. Half of the world has no idea how the other half lives.

I do think there comes a time when we need to do a little research so that we know we are not assisting a crime in progress. We cannot turn a blind eye. Women and children are vulnerable. The stories of trafficked women and children are heart wrenching. They need every person who can help them in whatever ways necessary to leave the trade and to start a new life. Natasha’s Home will allow some of them to do this. Check out http://www.unanima-international.org/eng/what-we-do/campaigns/stop-the-demand to learn more about the issue. Listen to Keith MacPherson’s sing Firefly. Think about what you can do to stop the demand. Everyone deserves to live in freedom.

Peace,

Suzanne

Missed the First One!

We must accept finite disappointment, but never lose infinite hope. ~ Martin Luther King Jr.

Ack!! I have technically missed my first blog day. It is late here and after a long and fun day, I am posting anyway, and hoping that I won’t berate myself too much for not getting this done before the witching hour.

I have had a great evening. I went to a fundraiser dinner after work for Natasha’s Home, which is a safe haven for women who have been trafficked. The food was fantastic, the entertainment excellent and the mingling fun. The educational component was also beneficial.

From there I dropped off one friend and picked up another so that we could go to a wedding social for one of our colleagues. At 1:00, we realized we had both overstayed but I was having a great time there too just running into people I had not seen for some time.

Anyway, it is very late and I do need to get to bed. It is a busy day tomorrow.

Peace,

Suzanne

Unbirthdays

Let's all congratulate us with another cup of tea
A very merry unbirthday to me
~ Lewis Carrol

What happens when a birthday ceases to be? I suppose one can still celebrate the person who should be having a birthday…raise a cup of tea or glass of wine or eat cheesecake regardless, wouldn’t you agree?

Today was my friend Rob’s birthday. Rob died from cancer several years ago now. That is not how I have remembered him today. No, it is not those last pictures that are etched in my mind that bring life to him still. Instead it is those instances when Rob was in his glory—usually on a lake in the middle of nowhere, or whipping up some extravagant meal over a bonfire, or with a hammer in his hand on top of a house in varied stages of being built. This was the Rob that we grew to love and that we remember on days like today.

I knew Rob for almost two decades. I knew him as a single guy. I knew him through both of his marriages. I knew him as a divorced man. I knew him when he worked for Habitat and when he worked for a small firm. I knew him when he was unemployed. I knew Rob—in all kinds of wonderful ways. I usually knew him as part of a group of people and later I knew him as part of a foursome. We spent a lot of time together at the home of our mutual friends, Lar and Lor. When I remember Rob today, I remember his faithfulness to his friends, his commitment to his family and his wife, and his volunteer work for HFH, L’Arche, and other organizations. I remember long walks and good talks. Well, sometimes…there were the long walks without talks that he and Lar would do while Lor and I would amble along, chatting incessantly. Then they would have to wait for us to catch up.

So tonight, even though Rob is not turning a year older, I raise a glass in his memory and am grateful for the gift of his life to so many of us. Happy Unbirthday! You are missed.

Peace,

Suzanne

Who has that much time?

Warning: the Internet may contain traces of nuts. ~Author Unknown

I noticed a little while ago that my followers disappeared on my blog. When I checked my other blog, they had gone too. When I clicked on followers, none of my friends were there. Instead only someone called UGotCrossedSon is my friend. Phooey!!! Some people have way too much time on their hand. Why would someone take the time to erase my friends? Sad, really.

Anyway, if anyone has any advice, post a comment. Otherwise, could some of you try to follow again and see what happens? I am hoping it is not a virus though. Ack!! Who really has that much time to be so mean?

I posted something on the bloggers helpline and maybe someone can help me.

I think I need a little of my own sign off tonight….peace.

Peace,

Suzanne

Let Your Life Speak

May the Lord keep you until the word of your life is fully spoken. ~ Louise Smendziuk

It is late and I cannot find my Cuba photos where my friend Louise and I shared a room. I may have to post that later when I have time to look for them.

My friend Louise died a year ago today. I sent her daughter an email this morning and she responded back with, “Thanks for thinking of us. I’m sure the sunshine today is her way of shining down on us.” Today was sunny and warm…just like Louise.

I first met Louise when I was in my early 20’s. She was the nurse at the school for the Deaf. Later I would come to know her as a fellow parishioner where she would help pave the way for me in many ministries, inviting me to join her in various activities. She was such a cheerleader.

When she found out I was going to Cuba with the church, she called and asked if she could be one of my roommates. I was delighted. We had such fun. She was a great storyteller and could entertain me for hours with her tales. We created a few of our own memorable moments there. I felt deeply loved by her and yet at the same time, I knew she had a heart big enough to love many of us. She embraced so many women.

Four of us got together fairly regularly for a few years now—women of all ages, spanning a few decades I am sure. One of our last suppers was to celebrate the marriage of the youngest member of the quartet. What great fun we always had when we broke bread together.

Louise called me two years ago and asked if I might bring her Eucharist since she could not attend church. For almost a year, I would arrive at her home, watch her deteriorate with the treatments, and then, hopefully, saw her begin to recover. She was able to go out and attend some functions, play bridge with her friends again, and tell tales about her family. In the beginning, I often had to waken her when I arrived but then she was able to respond heartily and engage in deep conversations as she got well again. She was so deeply grateful to receive the Eucharist which sustained her on this challenging journey. She even served me lunch a few times. All these moments were precious. When she got sick again, we did not discuss it. I could tell she did not want to. She was so private about her illness.

What I did get a glimpse of in those visits was that her life was fully spoken, despite her premature departure. She lived fully and completely. She had lots left to give and receive but she faced death without fear. In the journey of less than a year, I saw some changes in her as she let go of things that annoy most of us. She was downsizing not only her possessions but also her soul, emptying it of all the things she no longer needed in order to move to her final resting place. That was a gift. Sometimes when I think about our visits I long to make those changes in my own life now. It takes great courage to purge one’s inner most being but Louise did it with such grace. She is deeply missed by many people beyond her family and closest friends. She left a huge void but I am grateful for the time we shared here. Will you choose to let your life speak so that you will be deeply missed too?

Peace,

Suzanne

Signs of the Times

Spring shows what God can do with a drab and dirty world. ~ Virgil Kraft

I was rushing because I was late to meet a colleague today but when I saw it, I stopped. Ah, there was a sure sign of spring! The splash of colour against the grey bark caught my eye. I had seen a robin a day or so ago, and loads of geese, but not yet a butterfly. I pulled back into my parking space and grabbed my Blackberry to take a photo of it.

We can miss so much when we hurry or are not attentive. Sometimes it is the obvious; oftentimes it is subtler. Today was Day 4 of the long weekend for me. I felt as if something shifted inside and that time had slowed down. I got up later than normal and went to mass where I ran into a friend. We chatted for a bit—a good and intense conversation that was overdue. That made me late for the other appointment but once I got to the University, I also lingered, engaging in good conversation with my colleague who I wish I knew better. I like how she thinks. She laughed at a story that happened to me recently and we both rolled our eyes at how people do not understand our role as an interpreter.

From there I went on a mission to find something, which turned out unsuccessful. I gave up and went to my massage which was just what the doctor ordered. It was a nice break in the middle of what was turning out to be a hectic day. When I stepped out of the spa, I breathed deeply. Something had shifted while I lay on the table. I was able to slow down mentally. I felt the warm sun wash over me and I thought of that little creature on the tree, wishing that I had been able to just soak in the sun today.

Back to work tomorrow! It is supposed to be a glorious 21 degrees, another sure sign of spring.

Peace,

Suzanne

The Best Kept Secret

We are an Alleluia people. We are the people of the Lamb, indeed. We are also the followers of the Light that shines beyond the grave. ~ Joan Chittister

I sometimes think that the Catholic Church has one of the best-kept secrets from its people. Growing up, we may have worn our best outfits and our Easter bonnets, but the Vigil was not part of our tradition. The Easter Vigil is one of the richest liturgies that I attend. I first went about 25 years ago. My Catholic boyfriend at the time invited me. When he came to pick me up, he looked at my blue jeans and told me to go change. This was a party and a dress up event. What did I know then? It became one of the greatest gifts of our relationship. I cannot imagine Easter without the Vigil.

I have fond memories of Easter spent around the world. I remember Easter cantatas with my friend Janet in Iowa, flying kites with Kathy in Kenya, a three-hour vigil at an amazing church in Washington, and beautiful sunrise services here. I remember the odd Easter service in a little village church in Kitui, Kenya. The message was not so much about Christ’s rising but about the thief who would break in and steal your possessions. The preacher led the congregation on a wild journey as he pretended to break into a house and stealthily go from room to room. At one point he gave a shout out to the two white women at the back of the church. Kathy and I tried not to look at each other. We celebrated Christ’s rising later by flying kites.

St. Augustine in DC knew how to do a Vigil well. There were many baptisms, all by immersions. I can still see the face of one young woman who was wide-eyed. She came out of the waters of the font with such great joy. Then Boomer sang an amazing song that had the church up and dancing in a frenzied state. Christ had indeed risen. The mass went on for three solid hours but no one cared, as it was the most amazing experience that had finally arrived after the precious Holy Triduum journey. Afterwards, in the wee hours of the morning, the community gathered to share a feast. I cannot remember what exactly but I do remember a delicious Caesar salad and champagne. I think the main course was quiche.

From there it was home to sleep for two hours before arising to go to the sunrise service. It was my first Easter with crocuses. We were in a clearing in a wooded area in the neighbourhood of Columbia Heights. It was such a joy. Church was not yet done though as most of us made our way to the morning service at Sojourners. There I prayed for my dad who I had spoken to the night before and the words that came out of my mouth surprised me. I did not know that at nearly that exact moment he was having chest pains and would soon end up in ICU. Community members later told me how that prayer seemed so strong and urgent, the Spirit speaking the words that needed to be said.

From there I went hiking with my roommate Susanne, unreachable by my family who tried throughout the morning to reach me. It was late afternoon when we finally arrived back at the Perch, our home, and I returned my brother’s calls. That Easter scare had a happy ending. I flew home and Dad was released from hospital.

Last night at St. Ignatius, five people were baptized and three confirmed. One was a man in his seventies, I am sure. That was a delight to my heart to witness someone who at last came to know Christ and wished to be his official child. We sang the Alleluia, lit candles and broke bread, restoring the church to its fullness after the barrenness of the Triduum. Easter had arrived and the joy and hope that quietly whispered our names over these past three days broke through. We are an Alleluia people. We belong to the Good Shepherd, the people of the Lamb slain for us. Christ is Risen! Truly He is Risen! Alleluia! Alleluia!

Happy Easter, Everyone!

Peace,

Suzanne

In the Meantime

Situated squarely between Good Friday’s anguish and Easter Sunday’s exuberant joy, Holy Saturday is a kind of in-between-time, a “meantime.” In a way, most of life is such a meantime between our earthly struggles and our eternal happiness. ~ Sr. Melannie Svodoba

This was part of the devotional reading today. I thought maybe I would quote someone else besides Joan Chittister today but she also had an amazing line in her writings about Holy Saturday: Holy Saturday faith is not about counting our blessings; it is about dealing with darkness and growing in hope. Without the Holy Saturdays of life, none of us may ever really grow up spiritually.

This is a day when no liturgical action happens before sundown. The Catholic Church would have at least one mass on a regular Saturday but not today. Today we wait outside the tomb, wondering what on earth has happened. Today we stand in the uncertainty of life, wondering if God has abandoned us too. We ponder who Jesus really was and if what we witnessed was real or not. The community that once held us is now scattered and scared. Where is my faith at this day?

Living into the absence of that emptiness and grief holds valuable lessons for those willing to go into the darkness. What did Jesus mean to me? How did he touch my life? What am I really grieving this day? How will my life change without his presence? Do I hold any hope now? We may find ourselves in a tomb of our own this day as we consider these questions. The journey may lead to our own resurrection. We may discover hope has new meaning to us. Joy may become more of a gem. Jesus may be revealed in new ways. We may arise from the darkness of the tomb and see Light with new eyes.

Do you ever think about that first Holy Saturday and how some of the key players spent their day?

Mary, the mother of Jesus, bereft of her only Son

Peter pondering his betrayal

Pilate and Claudia sitting at breakfast table with the elephant in the room as Claudia wonders why Pilate did not listen to her pleading to have nothing to do with Jesus

The high priest’s slave, gingerly fingering what is left of his right ear

Mary Magdalene, and the other women, who witnessed the crucifixion

John, the disciple who Jesus loved, who has taken Mary in, hovering outside her bedroom, listening to his new "mother" weeping inconsolably

The High priest who is still indignant at Christ’s blasphemies but now puzzled by the events surrounding the crucifixion

Barabbas enjoying his new found freedom

The soldier who pierced the side of Jesus

The person in charge of fixing the curtain in the Temple

Simon of Cyrene aching from carrying the cross

The bystanders on Calvary who heard the last words of Christ, felt the earthquake, and saw the darkness

Those who were raised from the dead

Those who encountered those who were raised from the dead

The centurion who proclaimed, “Truly this was the Son of God!”

Joseph of Arimathea who laid Jesus in his own tomb

Nicodemus whose house still smelled of myrrh and aloes from the burial mixture

There are many reactions to this day. What are you feeling as you contemplate what happened on Good Friday? Be in this meaningful meantime. Stay with the emotions; learn their valuable lesson.

Peace,

Suzanne

PDF=Public Display of Faith

Good Friday is the saddest day in the liturgical year. ~ Joan Chittister

Suddenly the joy of friends breaking bread is transformed into the sorrow of witnessing an excruciating death. The One who was hoped to be the Messiah instead is whipped, mocked, beaten, scorned, and crucified. Hope crumbled for many that day. The same friends who lounged at table with the Christ, who were part of that first Eucharist, fled in terror. All that they had understood was now being shattered. What would happen now?

It is hard to comprehend that first Good Friday—what the apostles must have thought, how Mary and the women must have felt, or how Jesus could have endured it all. Who knows what I would have done if I had been there? It is a question that confronts Christians daily: Can I take up the cross and journey to Calvary with Christ?

Today, my phone rang early with an invitation from my friend, Kathleen, to join her in the Public Way of the Cross at the Cathedral. I was still horizontal when she called but I had been awake for half an hour so I agreed to go. The day was overcast and cold, just like Good Friday should be. We arrived to a packed Cathedral and ran into many of the faithful people that we know. A faith community was gathering to show its solidarity for our beliefs. There is always something profound about that.

Today’s journey took us past the House of Peace which welcomes refugees and women who are trafficked, to the doors of a shopping mall where gangs and drugs create chaos, to the Remand Centre where we were reminded of our own chains that bind us, past the Legislature to pray for our leaders and the upcoming election, and finally to the Hydro Building to serve as a reminder on this Earth Day, how fragile our environment is. Five stops walked in just over an hour probably by a crowd of several hundred faithful. A powerful public display of faith as I coined it during the walk.

As I walked though, I also remembered the very first time I did a PDF like that. I was living in Washington, DC and attending a dynamic parish called St. Augustine, the Mother Church of Black Catholics in the Nation’s Capital. We gathered too on a rainy Good Friday morning and sang such beautiful songs as we stood as a presence in the drug-laden, violence-ridden neighbour. We sang outside crack houses and stood on corners were homicides had occurred. We prayed for the people in the neighbourhood and in the nation. I still see one of the men singing, “Let my people go” and the goose bumps are as real now as they were then. I had never experienced anything like it and the transforming effect remains with me to this day.

This is a sad day….if we live as if we do not know what is to happen in the next 24 hours, we live without the hope that is ours. Sometimes it is a good exercise to live into that darkness fully and to learn the lessons of it. Good Friday….why do we call it good? That was a question that Fr. Brian would pose to those of us gathered at the 3:00 Service to hear his outstanding homily. Why not sad, as Chittister suggests, or bad? Good Friday is good news for sinners. Then Brian would ask if there were any sinners amongst us and hands shot or straggled up. Holy people scared him, he’d joke, putting us all at ease by raising his own hand. Brian's gift in that homily was also one that used to confuse me. It took me awhile to figure out, and maybe even come to agree with, the concept that today was not about Jesus dying for us. Good Friday is not about us. Today is about God manifesting God's awesome and enduring Love through Jesus. Today is about the love of God for us and his commitment to be there no matter what the cost is to God.

This afternoon I will join my community to behold the wood of the cross and I will know that it is Good Friday, as this is the day that I learn the healing and redemptive power of the cross and the sacrifice made for me this day on behalf of a Loving and Good God. This day reminds us why that little babe in Bethlehem was born and if we can stand in the shadow of the cross, we will share in the glory of the Resurrection.

Where will you stand this day?

Peace,

Suzanne

Do This in Memory of Me

(Holy Thursday) sends us careening between great joy and great confusion. ~ Joan Chittister

Every year it is the same thing and yet every year it is different. The liturgy of Holy Thursday is constant—it is a reminder to do all in remembrance of the One who willingly gave His life for me. Jesus gathers his friends and breaks bread with them. At this point, they are still quite uncertain as to what is going to happen.

He then surprises them by washing their feet, something a slave would do, not a rabbi or teacher. Finally, he goes with his friends to a place that they never would have gone to had they known what would unfold.

How many times have you had supper with friends and wished it would go on for hours? That kind of meal where the food is absolutely delicious, the laughter loud and spontaneous, the conversation deep and meaningful, and the bonds of friendship sealed in new ways—do you know what I mean? Have you experienced that?

How many times have you encountered “last suppers”? Have you lost people in your life with whom you at one time broke bread? Shared meaningful times? Yet never realized that you would not still be having those meals together?

Tonight I came excited but somehow my mood shifted. The current pastor remarked on his “last supper” with the former pastor, a supper of which I was part. In fact, I lounged beside Brian, having deep and meaningful conversations, as always. Actually, we even discussed how he thought only Jean Vanier could gracefully age and not be as active as he once was. Brian would have none of it.

Tonight at Eucharist, my friend Louise’s daughter and I stood face to face as we entered the communion line and it was the first time I had seen her in months. My eyes lit up with delight as I mouthed the words, “you’re pregnant!” and gave her two thumbs up. As I took two steps forward I felt the tears well up in my eyes, remembering first her son Matthew’s funeral and then the last supper I had with Louise. It was the group of four who would often get together but at that time we thought she might go into remission. We had not expected her to leave us so soon.

By the time I got back to my pew, I had memories of my friend Rob and the group who surrounded him during his illness. We always had amazing experiences of breaking bread together. In particular, I remember, (and still drool over), a lamb dish he had made for us. It was fantastic. The irony of his brief illness meant that he could no longer join us for those scrumptious meals. He too left sooner than we would have hoped.

Then my mind rested on Ginny who is gone for so long now. I had so many opportunities to break bread with her when I lived in Washington. The mass continued and I moved into the stillness and bleakness that was to come.

As I write this I cannot help but think of hosting the last supper my sister had with us. It was her birthday and we had such a great day. So many last suppers….so many blessings….so much pain. That is the journey this week. The conflicted emotions run high.

I do believe that we are called to deep relationships with people despite the cross that is dragged through the streets during times of grief. I also believe that Jesus showed us a model of building those relationships—servant leadership. The best kind of friend is the one who does not think of himself or herself first but is there in a spirit of giving and serving. That dynamic ebbs and flows in a relationship that is healthy, which is how relationships survive, I think.

My journey through these moments of grief is doable because of consistent liturgies like Holy Thursday. They teach us valuable lessons such as loss can be gain eventually, that pain can be joy again, that in the silence and bareness of bereavement, the voice of God can be heard, and that God has a plan that we can never anticipate but can trust holds hope of new life.

Come, journey this amazing path of Holy Thursday and beyond. It might change everything for you.

Peace,

Suzanne

A Three-Day Journey Begins

Holy Thursday is the day of gifts given and gifts taken away. ~ Joan Chittister

I continue to read Chittister’s The Liturgical Year. It is fascinating to me and I am learning new things. This quote struck me as painfully beautiful. I love Holy Thursday and look forward to tomorrow night’s liturgy. Two years ago I was one of the parishioners asked to have my feet washed. I remember feeling like it completed my journey of the missioning service and the welcoming home.

I always feel the contradictory emotions of this first Triduum experience. A joyous supper with 12 of his closest friends seems like a celebration, but Jesus knew how it would soon all fall apart. There were lots of clues even in today’s readings about what is to come. When the altar is stripped bare tomorrow night and the silence begins, I know that something is happening…something just beyond our grasp. We have just received a marvellous gift in Jesus’ teachings on servant leadership and a hint of what is to come, and the gift will soon be snatched away as he is arrested and deserted by the very people with whom he broke bread.

Soon the silence will be deafening; the bareness blinding. What has just happened? Hearing the story again should shock us into reality. When have I betrayed Jesus? Am I following at a distance or do I stand with him? Do I accept the gift offered—or do I reject it? Do I long to have my feet washed by Christ or do I prefer to sit in the pew content to watch but not be transformed?

These holy days give life to our journey but we cannot just go through them with a humdrum routine. We must be ready to do all in remembrance of the One who laid down His life for us. Chittister ends the chapter on Holy Thursday by saying: No footwashing, no conversion. No Eucharistic celebration, no new life. Which is why we go away in silence to think about it.

At the end of tomorrow’s service I have lots to think about. How about you? What will the first day of the Triduum make you think about?

Peace,

Suzanne

Tired of Being Tired?

Age is not measured by years. Nature does not equally distribute energy. Some people are born old and tired while others are going strong at seventy. ~ Dorothy Thompson

I am up late again and must be up early in the morning so better make this quick. I have been working on this fundraiser for a national conference being held here in 2014 and I am wondering how on earth I let myself be talked into being chair of this committee when my math skills are horrendous.

Anyway, my energy is fading a bit and I must say that I am not one to have been born old and tired. I usually have a dozen things on the go and have become known to some as the Energizer Bunny. Tonight though, the batteries need recharging so I am keeping this short!! Sometimes being tired is my own fault!

Peace,

Suzanne

Sufficiently Blessed

Dayenu! ~ song from Passover celebration

Dayenu means it would have been enough for us and is a song used during the Passover Seder meal. Annually I celebrate this feast with friends. Tonight a large group of us gathered to share the Seder. Three hours later, we completed the meal, interspersed with the readings and songs.

Dayenu has become, in recent years, the highlight of the event for me personally. The song underscores the joy of gratitude to God for all the gifts bestowed upon us. Each verse adds something more spectacular and yet, if it went no further, the blessing would have been sufficient. If God had split the sea for us, if God had lead us through on dry land, if God had drowned our oppressors, and so forth. Just one of these magnificent gifts would have been enough but instead, God lavishly continued to bless God’s people.

I think sometimes that I am so grateful for my life and all the blessings received that I can say Dayenu! Yet God continues to pour out on me grace and abundance. Fifty years of life is an accomplishment. Unlike some of my girlfriends from elementary school struggling with turning 50, I am grateful. As I said to someone recently, I have lived almost twice as long as my youngest sister. Why would I not be gracious about turning another year older?

God has given me many blessings and I don’t always remember to give praise for that but when I look at my life overall, I am content and humbled by all that has been orchestrated by the One who created me.

As we journey towards Holy Thursday which is about Jesus celebrating the Passover meal with his friends, can we too raise our voices with gratitude and shout, “Dayenu!”?

Peace,

Suzanne

This is My Body, Broken for You

These first days of Holy Week confirm: there are some things worth living for, even if we find ourselves having to die for them as well. ~ Joan Chittister

Today is Passion Sunday. It is also my dad’s 78th birthday. This has made me think about these two events together.

First of all, I love both Passion Sunday and my dad. I cannot wait for the long readings, the songs, the palm waving, and the joy that naively permeates this celebration. The church is usually pretty packed tonight.

Many years ago, the pastor of my church gave a superb homily at a spring wedding I attended. He spoke of the marriage covenant as the body of Christ, constantly being broken for the married couple. If we were to think about each decision we make in a shared life, we would see that dying to one’s needs has similarities to the Passion story. He talked about how a woman “breaks” her body to bear a child and how a husband might break his body to provide for his family.

Upon hearing this image, I thought of my father. Dad, shown here with three of us, worked hard for his family. First, as a young man, he left his home, and worked in the mines and in logging camps, exposing himself earlier to hard labour and toxicity that has probably given him Parkinson’s Disease. Later in married life, he worked for a meatpacking company and endured cold temperatures for 25 years, which could well be the cause of his arthritis and hip problems. My dad is physically one of the strongest men I know. I think he could move mountains if he had to if one of us needed him to.

Dad has never been a man to express his love with his words but some days when I look at his broken body, I know that he has used it as a gift for us, much the same way Jesus suffered for us. Dad, without knowing it, has provided me with a model of how to give or serve. There are some things with living for, even if we find ourselves having to die for them.

Happy Birthday, Dad! May the coming year be filled with gentle blessings for you. Thank you for the gift of your life and for the broken body that you have shared.

For those who believe, wave your palm branches well today and be ready to die in the week ahead for that which is most important to you.

Peace,

Suzanne

Let it Snow!

When it snows, you have two choices: shovel or make snow angels. ~Author Unknown

April 16 and we awaken to snow. I feel like I am stealing a page from my brother’s blog since it can snow in Calgary in May. He posts these kinds of photos regularly.

It is a crazy phenomena but if you let it get you down, then the weather wins. Driving down a busy street today, I saw a HUGE (larger than life) snowman on the corner of one of the streets. Someone had put an evergreen bough on its head so it looked like it had green, spiky hair. Whoever made it had sculpted two legs flat out in front of it to create the appearance of it having slipped and landed on its bum. I wish I had taken a photo of that. It was hilarious and speaks to the quote about the choices we sometimes have. Someone decided to beat Mother Nature at her own game and have some fun too.

I know warmer weather is coming and that the snow will be gone so at this stage I can laugh too. Besides it was so pretty this morning. Unfortunately, this probably won’t help the flood watch in a positive way. The river is rising due to ice jams breaking up last night. Maybe we should not have laughed too hard at Mother Nature. I hear she has quite the temper.

Have some fun! Make a snowman or a snow angel.

Peace,

Suzanne

All the World is a Stage

My life has a superb cast but I can't figure out the plot. -Ashleigh Brilliant

I have met some interesting people in my life. Sometimes when I look back at my life, I wonder what exactly the plot could be. If someone were to do an autobiography, I have no idea exactly where the climax would be right now. Even though I am nearing the Big 5-0, I don’t quite get the sense I am in the falling action phase of my life. My hunch is that I have a lot of action yet to happen before the pivotal point of this story arrives.

Last night at the dinner, I ran into a man who I used to facilitate retreats with at the Villa Maria, a former Oblate centre. He was delighted that I had come up to greet him. I had not seen him in a number of years. Our encounter, of course, brought back many memories. The first time I went to Africa, he sent a letter of introduction to a wonderful friend of his, named Horst. Horst met my cousin Kathy and I and decided to loan us his son, Michael, as our driver and tour guide. The photo is of Kathy and Michael in the Rift Valley.

I think Michael thought Kathy and I were crazy women. His dad was fairly well off while Kathy was living in simplicity on the school grounds where she was teaching. Oddly enough, he could see that we were happy in our lives despite not having a bunch of luxuries. I suspect it took him awhile to “get” us. Hanging out with us must have been as eye opening for him as it was for us. Horst was a kind and generous host, taking us to the Karen Blixen country house for dinner, and if I remember correctly, it was him who took us to the Carnivore Restaurant. Back them, people could really order the wild meat, unlike now, where the animals are better protected. I had a little bit of trouble meshing the poverty and luxury that collided when we came together.

I have never seen Horst or Michael again but my friend told me that he and Horst had been to Kenya again this year. Horst and his wife—an African woman—now live in Ontario. I often wonder about some of the people who enter my life for what seems a fleeting moment in the grand scheme of things and yet change its course. How many people like that do you have in your life—those angels that appear to bring joy or those who stir the pot and get you to see in a new way? My heart is grateful for the memories of Horst and his family and the chapter of my life that they helped to write.

Peace,

Suzanne

Birthing a Good Society

The birth of a good society comes when people start to trust each other, to share with each other, and to feel concerned for each other.
~ Jean Vanier

Tonight I was at the Catholic Foundation of Manitoba’s annual gala dinner. This year the recipient of the award was a former employer of mine. One of my first employers was St. Amant’s Center—I worked there for a summer in the Occupational Therapy Workshop. It was an eye-opening experience on lots of levels.

I worked, naturally, in the Workshop itself but I also did some one-on-one sessions with some of the residents in this residence for disabled people. This work impacted me for life. I worked with one young woman who had been the victim of a drunk driver. She had been a vibrant teenager with a passion for horses when everything was taken from her—she lost her hearing, her speech, and her ability to walk. Her sense of frustration was obvious and it broke my heart to see her mentally aware of how limited she had become. At the age of 20, I made a decision then to never drink and drive. I have pretty much kept that promise to myself on her behalf, only occasionally have I had a half a glass of wine over dinner when I know I am driving somewhere.

It was also my first time working with Fetal Alcohol Syndrome/Effected children. That was tremendously challenging for me. I had no idea that alcohol could do such horrific things to life in the womb. Back then, not much was known about it.

This evening’s event captured the journey of the Centre and the Grey Nuns who started it. I was pleased to see that even though the Grey Nuns no longer own the facility, their legacy was remembered and honoured tonight. The work that the Centre continues to do is ground-breaking, based on the dignity of each person, but working together in a community. Vanier’s quote above hits the nail on the head. Doing the work that St. Amant has done all these years does birth a good society where people can trust each other, share with each other and feel genuine concern. My summer at St. Amant was one of the best jobs I have ever had. The influence of the people remain with me and have clearly shaped me.

Congratulations to St. Amant on their achievement!

Peace,

Suzanne

Rock On, Dreamers, Rock On!

Keep your dreams, for in them lies Joy denied to men grown wise. ~ Edgar A. Guest

My friend Rena invited me to a Rock Show at her son’s school. I think tonight might have been the fourth year I have attended. It is always fun to see the students let loose, find a voice, and be a Rock Star for a few nights. I love to watch them rock out and have a blast doing it. Music is so fantastic for that. As an audience member, the songs are always familiar and bring back loads of memories. My friend’s son is now in the show and that is an added hoot to being there. He is one of the guys on the right in the blurry photo.

I do not always go on closing night but I love that experience. The Grade 12 students get to share what the show has meant to them and it always touches me. Tonight I could not help but think of two teenagers really struggling right now. Their dreams are dead. These kids were so pumped—it was, and always is, a fabulous closing testimony to the success of more than the hour and a half show. These kids end up experiencing what they say is the “time of their lives” and the “best part of their school time.”

I am not sure how many will go on to become rock stars or even musicians in a band or performers of some kind. Some may end up singing in a church; others will only sing in the shower in five years time. Life is funny. The dreams that are so meaningful at one point fade to black at another juncture in life. Joy sometimes is never realized.

On the way home, I said to my friend’s son who had performed in a Guns and Roses tune that one of the guys I went to school with went on to become a guitarist with Guns and Roses. He was impressed. When I said that I also went to school with the drummer of the Crash Test Dummies he said he did not really know who they were….oh wait, don’t they sing with really deep voices? You never know what can happen with dreams. I know both those guys were hooked on music then; who would have thought that they would have gone on to realize their joy?

Don’t grow wise too soon. Joy is something to aspire to, too.

Peace,

Suzanne

Flood Fears

You have to accept whatever comes and the only important thing is that you meet it with courage and with the best that you have to give. ~ Eleanor Roosevelt

I remember the flood of 1997 though I was fairly detached. I had not yet started working for my current employer and so did not travel the way I do now. The names of the towns were often foreign. These photos are taken today just outside of Brunkild. In 1997, this is where the famous old car dykes were used. Today, I felt like I was looking at a lake instead of a prairie. So many people are holding their breath, wondering what the next few days will bring. You can only accept what comes with courage and your best self. There have already been a couple of flood related deaths here and that saddens me. No one needs that added burden in a time like this where the stress is already high.

In 1997, I volunteered with the Habitat for Humanity Flood Recovery Teams. I remember one Saturday morning, going just outside of Winnipeg, to a house that had been damaged by the water. An old woman lived in this particular old house. We were tearing apart the house because of the mould damage. The insulation was made of sawdust. I had never seen that before. I also remember the sadness that woman felt at having lost so much because of the flood.

My back has been acting up again so I have not been able to assist with the sandbagging efforts but I sure hope those who can help, will. As I drove around southern Manitoba today, I sensed things might be ok for the most part, but a rainy day or some freak event could change all of that for some of these folks. The water is less than a foot from the tops of bridges. It won’t take much to change the outcome. All we can do is to think positively and send prayers for those who need it.

Peace,

Suzanne

I am not Lost

Not all those who wander are lost. ~ J. R. R. Tolkien

Today was a traveling day. I drove through prairies that resembled ponds….or maybe more accurately land that looked like lakes. I should have take a photo but the highway was busy. Instead, I send a snapshot of a little creek near a Hutterite colony I was at later in the day. Look like a creek to you? Manitoba is under a flood threat and some places are worse than others.

After work I had my final Tai Chi class (we finished the short form at last; now I just need to practice) and then went on to Net for God in the Chemin Neuf community which showed a film on a seminary in Burundi where the people stood by each other during the genocide rather than turn in their friends with a different ethnicity. The film was powerful and brought back lots of memories of being in Burundi and at another seminary.

As I drove from one place to another, I wondered about my wanderings. I have been a lot of places. To keep my mind active as I drove 350 km I tried to think of places I had been to following the alphabet. Let’s see if I can cover all 26 letters—and I won’t always pick the obvious ones. See if you know where they all are!

A for Arviat
B for Bujumbura
C for Cincinati
D for Duluth
E for Edmonton
F for Frankfurt
G for Guatemala City
H for Holguin
I for Iowa City
J for Juarez
K for Kigali
L for Los Angeles
M for Montreal
N for Nairobi
O for Ottawa
P for Paris
Q for Quebec City
R for Rankin Inlet
S for St. Boniface
T for Tofino
U for Uvira
V for Vancouver
W for Willow Bunch
X for X-ray Dept (Maybe after I travel in Asia I can get this one)
Y for Yorkton
Z for Zurich

Can you do this with places you have been to? What you have better things to do with your time? Ah, but the challenge is interesting!

Peace,

Suzanne

Waiting on CPR

Jesus cried out in a loud voice, "Lazarus, come out!" ~ John 11: 8-9

Today’s Gospel reading is that of the raising of Lazarus, which happens to be the second longest continuous narrative of John’s Gospel. The longest one is the Passion which will be read next week. This event on the road to Calvary will ultimately cause the leaders to kill Jesus—such an irony since what Jesus does is give life back to someone.

This morning, as most Sunday mornings, I did my morning prayer, listened to the Praise and Worship time on the Christian radio station, and generally, sabbathed. Yes, I know that is not really a word, but I like to think of it as one. During the break in the music, the radio announcer said this zinger, “If you’re not honest with God, that is where it all starts.” He meant that is where it all breaks down. As I thought about Lazarus in the tomb, I believe that oftentimes we are in our own self-imposed grave and this happens when we are not honest with God and ourselves. Jesus can yell all he wants, “Come out, Suzanne!” but if I am sulking in my cave and got that big rock in front of it, I won’t really care. How often do we do that, and then ironically, blame God for not getting us out of the dark place?

Fr. Brian Massie one time spoke of Lazarus as receiving resuscitation instead of a resurrection. Christ did a mini-CPR on him as he returned in his earthly body and went on his way. This Lent I have become more and more aware of the moments that I need spiritual CPR as I crawl way into the back of the cave with my sins and avoid the Light. I am making headway though. Unbind me!! I may be ready to come out as a new creation by the time Holy Week rolls around.

How about you? Ready to come out yet?

Peace,

Suzanne

Birthday Blessings!

Old age isn't so bad when you consider the alternatives.
~ Maurice Chevalier

Today is my mother’s birthday. Oddly enough, I went to a funeral today for a man who used to come to my parish. As his daughter gave the eulogy, I could not help but think what a fantastic job she did at honouring her dad. One day one of my siblings or I will have this task of speaking at our parents’ funerals.

Two days ago, my parents celebrated their 53rd wedding anniversary. My dad is a week younger than my mom and will join her in turning 78. My parents are not very affectionate people but there is light-hearted banter in their lives. When I read their cards to each other, I see that there is still love between them.

When I was visiting my aunt and uncle in BC a few weeks back, I asked them how they met. I swear my uncle blushed like a schoolboy as he reminisced. My aunt used to go to the gas station he worked at and ask for only $2.00 worth of gas so that she would have to come back again before too long. They are obviously still in love.

I look at my mom and dad and do see glimpses of that. Fifty-three years is a long time to be married and to see sparks of love is hopeful. My mom is a different person than my dad which cannot have been easy for either of them.

I learned a few things about Mom while I visited her brother. She was a daddy’s girl—just like me. For some reason, that surprised me. She seemed to always get her way in the family, according to her younger brother. He said she always thought about herself—and it was always about her. That made me chuckle because that is the mother I know. Once in a blue moon, though, she surprises everyone by moving beyond herself. Redemption is always possible.

Today I wish her God’s blessings.

Peace,

Suzanne

100 or 1

If you were going to die soon and had only one phone call you could make, who would you call and what would you say? And why are you waiting? ~Stephen Levine

This is post number 100 and so I guess I should write something profound (hence the quote). Honestly, I am surprised that I have been able to write for 100 days straight. It has been an interesting journey. Hopefully you are enjoying it, too.

So…Friday night and I am home after a hectic workweek, that has had busy evenings too. I am awaiting a call from a friend in Vancouver after months of saying we should catch up.

There was a time in my life where I could talk on the phone for hours. I don’t do that so much now and it usually goes in spurts. I will call one friend and then decide that was so much fun I should touch base with someone else. This quote did make me think as to why I do wait to call people.

Stephen Levine is always thought provoking. I am not sure I have an easy answer to this question. I can assume that my family would be with me at this time, and those closest to me, if I knew in advance. If however, I had just been shot and was slowly bleeding out (morbid thought, bear with me—CSI is on in the background), then I think I might call my dad. I am sure my mom would answer the phone though and that might be a problem as I would have trouble getting a word in edge-wise as my blood seeped out of my body.

OK, so this is not turning out to be profound and my brother is probably saying, stop trying comedy—that is my territory. If I called him, I would draw my last breath, laughing, I am sure.

The trouble is that I have led my life, developing friendships that are dear to me. I would have to plead more than one measly call, unless it was a conference call. How many people can I talk to at one time max?

Blog 100—quite an achievement. Maybe I could write one last blog instead of one last phone call, Stephen. Is there room for negotiation here?

Ok, you think that is an easy question, then you answer it. Who would you call and what would you say?

Peace,

Suzanne

What was that Morning Like?

Was it a morning like this....? ~ Jim Croegaert

I found out when I was in Kelowna that a Sandi Patti song that I play on Easter morning to celebrate was written by Jim Croegaert. I was surprised and yet not. Croegaert has written many of my favourite songs.

I think I first heard this song when my friend Barb shared it with me. Discernment, the 9 pm singing group at my church does it every Easter night. Easter does not seem like Easter without it.

One of the stories connected with this song is known only to a smaller group of people. At a point in my life, my friend Barb convinced me to take a clowning class with her. Violet and Twinkle were born. Twinkle aka Barb went on to a successful career. Violet aka moi was too shy to perform publicly very often but she has some memorable moments. One of these is attending a Triduum retreat weekend at what was the Villa Maria. It was one of her most powerful, transformative appearances.

On Easter Sunday, after infusing herself into the retreat up until that point with a mixture of humour and seriousness, Violet had her crowning moment. She hid in the sacristy of the little chapel while the retreatants gathered for what they thought would be a prayer time. Violet waited and then turned on the music to this song. She stepped out of the door and into the sanctuary. As she did so, she thought, “Just remember, you don’t Jesus is risen yet.” Suddenly, the enormity of the meaning of those words enveloped her and cut her to the depths. She wavered, trying to compose herself as a wave of sheer sorrow swept over her. She thought she would start sobbing and wondered if she should take a step backwards, back into the sacristy and compose herself. Then, from the audience, the small voice of the son of the director of the Villa, spoke, “Clown, sad.”

Yes, it was true. For the first time in my life, the meaning of Good Friday and Easter permeated my being. These two small words, softly and innocently spoken, got me back on track, and Violet stepped forward and began her liturgical dance. “Was it a morning like this when the sun still hid from Jerusalem? And Mary rose from her bed to tend the Lord she thought was dead.” Violet danced and ended triumphantly with Violet holding the linens high above her head. I was transformed as much as anyone watching that morning. The earth must have rejoiced to feel Jesus and pound that Christ had risen. Surely the grass must have sung for sheer joy!

Violet’s “performance” (though I would prefer to think of it as a prayer) was a huge success. The director caught up with me later and confessed in that opening moment, he was struck by the overwhelming sadness that Violet felt and almost started weeping himself. I think of that some Easter mornings—that great gift that is offered to us every year and I am humbled by the One who loves like no other.

Peace,

Suzanne

Parenting Ain't Easy

Your children need your presence more than your presents. ~Jesse Jackson

I had a parent kind of day. One of the parents on my caseload had never met me before and I had been working with her child for about four years. She had asked the school to meet me.

For whatever reason, I was a little nervous. She was lovely though and we had a very good visit. I appreciated that. I was also able to observe a tender moment when at the end of the visit, she turned to her daughter and asked for a kiss before she left. The daughter momentarily balked but then gave her mom a loving kiss. I felt blessed to see that moment.

Later in the evening, I ran into a mom at the career fair who I know. She said that she wished she could sign like me and was considering entering the four-year training program so that she could. That opened a door for me to walk through and we had an excellent conversation.

Having a Deaf child is not easy for many people. Both these mothers are heavily involved with the lives of their children. They struggle with learning ASL and are torn over the decisions they are making for their children. There is never an easy answer because each child is different and one answer does not fit every child. I do know these two women are present to their children and their unique needs. Their love for their offspring is amazing to witness. That alone tells me they are on the right path.

Peace,

Suzanne

Thank you, thank you, very much!

God gave you a gift of 86,400 seconds today. Have you used one to say "thank you?" ~William A. Ward

Tonight I had my Chemin Neuf prayer group. We were supposed to talk about where we were at in the here and now. My first thought was grateful. I have had a very wonderful few weeks.

I am still basking in the Kelowna warmth of friends, family and sun. I have renewed energy and a more centered feeling. I am excited about my Alaskan cruise. Mom got good news today about her skin cancer treatments being successful. I won a free coffee from Roll Up the Rim at Tim's (I know I don't drink coffee but it counts towards a hot chocolate too). Life is pretty darn good.

The more I talked, the more I found reasons to be thankful. That is a great place to end a day.

Peace,

Suzanne

Waiting and Wasting

I would I could stand on a busy corner, hat in hand, and beg people to throw me all their wasted hours. ~Bernard Berenson

Today I made a tactical error. I had noticed that my headlight was burned out so I thought I would pop into Canadian Tire and quickly get it changed. I ran over on my lunch hour and noticed the line up. One of the salespeople said, “No problem. We take appointments. Come back at 4:30.” Great, I thought. That is much more convenient.

Ah, wasted hours! How do you get them back? If only I had trusted that I could have popped into the store, bought a headlight and replaced it myself. Didn’t I take a mechanics course for women many moons ago? Didn’t I use to replace light bulbs before?

No, instead, I trusted that the store would be true to its word and I would be on my way within 10 minutes. Tick, tick, tick. After 30 minutes, I was getting ticked. After 60 minutes, I developed a tick. I mean, really, what was the problem?

I had sent a dozen emails, drafted a letter for my supervisor, and reworked my calendar. I was not going to waste valuable time while I waited. Nope, not me. I was going to be productive. Sigh. How many times is asking, “Is my car ready yet?” too many times? It is the equivalent to a child’s “are we there yet?”

I tried to be polite and then finally I just came and stood, looking at the salesman until he felt compelled to go in and ask when the car would be ready. I saw someone jump to life in the direction of my car. Was that a cape I saw? Super Mechanic to the rescue! Why had I not changed this sucker all on my own? I mean, even the temperatures cooperated as it was above zero.

“Can I just pay for this while I am waiting?” I asked, keeping my tone level. The reward came in the end: “No, it’s ok. I am pulling rank. There will be no charge.” The cost of my precious hour and a half: $5.95. Hmmmm...where is my hat and which corner should I be standing on?

Peace,

Suzanne

I Once was Blind

Then the man who was blind went and washed, and came back able to see. ~ John 9:7.

Today’s Gospel reading is about the blind man who Jesus healed. It is an interesting story that begins with blame: Who sinned? This man or his parents, that he was born blind? Jesus, of course, sees things differently. Why is it though that we are so quick to blame and judge? As the story progresses these people who can physically see again have narrow vision, refusing to believe that this man who can now see is the same one who was once blind. They haul in his parents, who also refuse to rejoice at the man’s healing. The one with new vision now announces that Jesus is from God, believing in him and all he is.

My challenge in this reading is to see with new eyes, eyes that God has given me. I prefer sometimes to see through my own vision, distorted as it gets some days. Yesterday, I was having a bad glasses day. Nothing seemed to get them clean. I was frustrated at living in a blurry world. When we use our spiritual eyes, we can see clearly. Perhaps we can even see without blame or judgment. We can seek out the goodness and blessings around us instead of the negativity and doom.

Years ago when I was invited to go into a sweat lodge with a friend, I prayed beforehand, asking for a sign that I was indeed to do this. After offering my tobacco, I looked up and saw a gorgeous red-tailed hawk circling above me. It flashed its red tail at me, as if to beckon me to come on the journey. Hawks, like eagles, have strong vision. Since that offering, some days when I am driving and wonder if I have lost my way or doubt that I am on the right road, a hawk or eagle will appear and I know all is well.

When we look for spiritual signs, we see rightly. When we ask for a view from God’s perspective, we see things that we never would see otherwise. When we have a vision that is not our own, but belongs to the One who wants healing and wholeness, miracles happen. May you be given eyes that see this day.

Peace,

Suzanne

Exercise Caution

I gotta work out. I keep saying it all the time. I keep saying I gotta start working out. It's been about two months since I've worked out. And I just don't have the time. Which uh..is odd. Because I have the time to go out to dinner. And uh..and watch tv. And get a bone density test. And uh.. try to figure out what my phone number spells in words. ~ Ellen DeGeneres

Ellen DeGeneres is hilarious! I worked out this afternoon after a three-week break from my Pilates class. I think I hurt my back somehow. Drat!! I will require a soak in a hot bath before this evening is done. It was only yesterday that I had a massage to make me feel great. Oh well! Such is life. Maybe Tai Chi will help on Monday, too.

Why is it that many of us avoid working out? I am doing this 40-day Change Your Habits, Change Your Life program. I did better on vacation last week than I am doing now that I am back home. What is up with that? Like Ellen, I find I have time to do things like stare at the ceiling, watch TV, think about exercise, search online to book a Pilates class, and check out the Groupon discounts for new exercise places, but do I actually do it? Well, that is another story. Though I must admit I did buy a 20-visit pass from TeamBuy for a new-to-me gym for body sculpting and that might inspire me. Does that mean that it is an art class or a workout class though? I was not completely sure.

I am doing better in other areas of the 40-day challenge. I find I am sleeping an average of 7 hours now which is great. Sometimes I even make it to 8 hours. I am eating more fruits which is a big thing for me, as I tend to consume my veggies but not enough fruits. I am drinking more water. I am eating fiber for breakfast which is one of the suggestions. I am trying to eat less in the last three hours of my day.

I am wavering on the empty calories though. Darn addiction to sugar! Of course, those girl guides had to show up at my door this evening. Be prepared! Just say no—how do you say no to kids dressed up in their cute little camp outfits? Besides my back pain was crying out for comfort. I have not quite devoured half a box since I bought them two hours ago.

Hey, I wonder what my phone number spells in words?

Peace,

Suzanne

Aim High!

Aim at heaven and you will get earth thrown in. Aim at earth and you get neither. ~ C. S. Lewis

This is a new quote to me but I loved it when I read it. I think I do this unconsciously. Love life, dream big, breathe deeply.

The big news of the day is that I booked an Alaskan cruise for this summer as my big 50th birthday present to myself. I have wanted to do it for about a decade or so after seeing someone’s photos. This should be a great trip. I am going with a friend of mine from Vancouver. Pretty cool!!

I have had a lovely day. We have a group of “elders” at church that has been dubbed “the Chicken Delight” ministry because they have coffee after mass there during the week. Well, the restaurant closed and so they have moved elsewhere. I joined them for a cup of tea at the new spot today and caught up a little. I think they are a great little group and hope that when I retire, I will have a coffee gaggle to hang with.

From there, I walked over to my massage therapist’s office and had an hour-long massage. I am always grateful to be healed in this way. I know my body appreciates the extra loving care too.

I have just finished watching Grey’s Anatomy since I did not buy headphones last night and could not hear the music on the plane ride home. I did not get it. What did the songs have to do with the story? Someone really has to do better next time. That said the speaking parts of the show were good.

Back home, I am missing the warmer temps and the mountains but I can sense that spring is coming and so I am content. I am looking up rather than earth-bound and grumpy!

How is your day going?

Peace,

Suzanne