God Is In My Head

We were heading home when out of the blue, my darling little grandson said it.
"Grandma and Mom, God is in my head."
We both gulped. My daughter was driving and I noticed her hands grip the steering wheel a little tighter. One never knows what the little munchkins might say, but when it comes to 'God things,' I am intrigued.

"So, what does God look like?" Mommy asked.
"Well, He is wearing a Boston Jersey, 'cause He knows I like Boston" that sweet little monkey replied. We laughed.
"What is God saying to you?" It was my turn to interrogate.
"He tells me that he loves me and that he really likes it when I do well at stuff."
I wanted to climb into the back seat with my 6 year old Mr. T, hold him and never let him go. His descriptions and comments continued and, although I cannot remember the exact words, it turns out God wanted to play with my grandson [again] and when He plays, He plays fair.

Call it imagination and child's play. I prefer to call it communing and soul stirring. Miss J. - my granddaughter, who did not have the privilege of meeting my sweet Momma in this earth, told us a while ago that she actually did talk to her in heaven. She wouldn't tell us any more than that. Only that she knew her.

I choose to believe these little ones. Jesus said to His disciples in Mark 10:14-16: "Suffer the little children to come unto me and forbid them not, for of such is the kingdom of God. Verily I say unto you, Whosoever shall not receive the kingdom of God as a little child, he shall not enter therein. And he took them up in his arms, put his hands upo n them, and blessed them."

They know something we don't...

If only we could find that 'child-like' mind once again. Instead of being bombarded by the world and all its negativity, wouldn't it be nice have 'God in our head?'

It's been a lovely, simple mother's day, free from obligation and stress [and I get to do it all over again with my gorgeous son and his family next week]. How blessed am I?

Why Do I Write?

(First published on Inscribe Christian Writer's Fellowship Blog)

                                         

1.  Why do I get up each morning? 

Some days are diamonds some days are stone

Some time the hard times won’t leave me alone...The wonderful part about daybreak is that I know not what awaits me once I poke my head out of the covers. Most mornings my wonderful hubby wakes me up with a steaming cup of Tetley's. I then mentally review my to-do list and then remind myself that my day depends on my attitude - I can make it or break it. I get up each morning because I haven't finished yet...

2.  Why do I write?

      I always loved composition in school. I wrote songs with my sisters when we lived in Scotland. My teacher told me I should always do my very best in English. It would help me in everything. Thanks Mrs. McLeod.

3.  What motivates me?

      My hubby has worked hard all his life. He often took on extra jobs to help cover the cost of being who we were. We homeschooled our wonderful kiddos and laughed more than we cried. We had more than a few challenges and hiccups but God was with us every dance step of the way. I told my happy hubby that one day he could retire and I will follow my dream to write...write...write...fulltime [and make some money, too.]

4.  Why do I write?

      Words are like gossamer silk. Every thread delicately intertwines to create a web of words. As I write from my heart, I pray I will touch the hearts of others and my desire is that my soul words please the heart of God.

Finally, brethren, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is of good repute, if there is any excellence and if anything worthy of praise, dwell on these things. Phillipians 4:8

5.  What is life? Life might very well be defined as the absence of death. But it is so much more. When I see my little grandbabies discover their world; when I hear the infectious laughter of an infant; when I realize the gifts God has bestowed upon His people and then see His people use those gifts for His glory; when I see medical miracles; learn that we are having another grandchild; hear the laughter of children; hear the laughter of adults; see the compassion of individuals; see and experience family; watch a frustrated student have an 'aha' moment; when I feel a hug; hear a kind word; have an opportunity to share what I have; realize the responsibility of being a parent, a grandparent, a wife, a friend...then I start to know what life is!

6. Why do I write?

     When I write what I know the words flow. The obsession to fill a page with words consumes my mind and soul. When writing opportunities are absent, my mind stays on God trusting Him to guide me into perfect timing to share my heart.

7.  What discourages me?
     Watching televised news exemplifies the sinful, fallen world. I wonder why we do to each other that which denegrates, maligns, defames and destroys? Rejection; amber alerts for stolen children; cruel words; misuse of power; greed for that which we are not entitled; carelessness of heart. Thankfully, the tiny Babe was sent to remind us of why we exist; to deliver; to offer hope; to save.

8.  Why do I write?
     My idea file overflows. There are ideas for articles, books, devotions, stories floating around in my mind constantly. I am overwhelmed with what to do with these words. So I write.
Fill your paper with the breathings of your heart. ~William Wordsworth

9.  What is my favourite Scripture?
      Be still and know that I am God. Psalm 46:10

10.  Why do I write?
       The act of writing causes my brain to settle and focus. If my writing is all task and focussed solely on deadline, I can tell. If my writing flows because I have acknowledged God as the giver of all gifts and then taken the time to be still, I sense a better connection and a calmness in my soul.

11. Why am I thankful?

      All I need do is look around. All I need do is remind myself Who is beautifully in control. All I need do is think back to times of turmoil and distress; joy and celebration...and then I remember.

12. Why do I write?

      I always believed in God. The God of my past was there for my convenience, though - when I was sad, troubled, upset. Then my heart became hungry for something greater than my own words. God led me to a place and showed me the Light. My soul was stirred.  I found ways to express myself via the written word.

13.  What will I do with the rest of my life?

        What is the rest of my life? There's a country song "Live Like You Were Dying" by Tim McGraw.  I'm not too sure about the skydiving, the rocky mountain climbing or going two point seven seconds on a bull named Fu Man Chew. But I do like the part about loving deeper,  speaking sweeter  and giving forgiveness I'd been denyin'...

We might think we have the inside scoop on our days but I never felt those tumours growing.

14.  Why do I write?
        There's  nothing like walking a mile in someone's sandals, they say. When I extract both the toxins and the precious jewels from my life I find people who say they understand why I write. They can relate; they want to hear my stories; I want to hear theirs.   

 15.  What scares me?

      What if I lose my way? What if I lose my mind? What if I lose my salvation?

 For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life.John 3:16 

16. Why do I write? 
      There is something particularly calming and thrilling when I get to spend significant hours partaking in the art of writing. I feel a sense of accomplishment when I get to dig out my ancient ledger and enter - by hand - the latest project. I tried keeping track of my submissions on the computer and everyone tells me that that is the correct thing to do. I do have a program or two that I can use but for some silly reason I keep going back to my oversize forest green ledger. It feels like a reward when I write by hand in this great book. 

17.  How do I measure success?

       Sure I want to be a successful writer. I guess the key is defining successful? Perhaps credibility will be determined if I make x number of dollars or sell x number of copies. But true success for me will be measured by a degree of satisfaction gleaned from knowing someone has been encouraged, educated, confronted, consoled, motivated, entertained, challenged, inspired, comforted, cheered, stirred by my stories.

18.  Why do I write?  
       Every time I teach the alphabet to my students, my mind boggles. How can 26 little letters come together to create over 600,000 words? We are quick to teach the alphabet to our charges but are we equally as quick to teach them how to love and respect words? 
       Words - so innocent and powerless as they are, as standing in a dictionary, how potent for good and evil they become in the hands of one who knows how to combine them. ~Nathaniel Hawthorne

19.   Should I dance like no one is watching?

       Dancing in all its forms cannot be excluded from the curriculum of all noble education; dancing with the feet, with ideas, with words, and, need I add that one must also be able to dance with the pen? ~Friedrich Nietzsche

 

20.  Why do I write?

       Just as my heart beats in perfect harmony within the rhythm section of God's orchestra, my passion for the craft pulsates perfectly as I wait upon the Lord for inspiration.  

Love, is why I write...

Celebrating Life...Wondering...

Four years ago today, I received the diagnosis from my doctor.
"The news is not good," were the few words she uttered. "It's ovarian cancer..."

I felt the air being sucked out of my soul. I can't actually say that my life flashed before me, though, although it does sound dramatic and reasonable. But I remember feeling a sudden need to be held. God, as usual, was on the job for I had opted to go alone to the doctor's, thinking she would be telling me something minor was untoward and I was stepping kicking and screaming into menopause.

Gilles was the first person to know about my cancer. He is always the first to know. Thirty four years later - and he still has my back.

I recall the sick feeling as we prepared to tell Amanda and Trevor. All I could think of was my beautiful family and how I suddenly felt as if I was being ripped away from my babies.

Lest I start revisiting that moment, I will recall with jubilant joy, how God has taught me well through my cancer journey, and over these four years of remission.

I have seen the faces of pure caring. I have received kindness and compassion that I never imagined. I have learned that relationship is so much more than task and the trivial, is just that - unimportant. I help when I can and sometimes when I feel I cannot. Others did it for me. It's the least I can do to pay it forward.

I, admittedly, do struggle with cancer guilt. I don't know if that is an oddity or whether it would be classified in the big psychology tome as a 'normal' response to surviving a terminal disease. Today I learned that a woman who is not so blessed, lucky, fortunate (what do we call it?) is slowly succumbing to cancer. I will be seeing her this weekend as we host our big fundraiser for the Ovarian Cancer Canada Walk of Hope. She wants to join us (as she has done for the past four years) and she wants to scrapbook and laugh and relax with 99 other rootin' tootin' cowgals for the cause. We are overjoyed that she is coming but I cannot help battling the guilt of living while she is dying.

But we will show her a wonderful, Wild West good time and we will help her rejoice in the moment - that's another thing I learned on my journey - life is fleeting so now is the time to celebrate.

I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. 2 Timothy4:7

Day 10 - Dear...

In this challenge, I am supposed to write a letter to myself at 16 years of age. Here we go...

Dear 16 Year Old Me: 

I'm so sorry. I know you had so many plans and dreams and you planned on a very long and healthy life. I didn't mean to disappoint you nor did I intend to create such a time of turmoil in 2008. Often times when things went wrong, I have said 'no one to blame but myself...' I am still trying to get my head around that and am trying to figure out what I did wrong in my life or what bad choices I made that gave me cancer. Guilt is not something I want to savour, but something in my head gnaws occaisionally.

They say that ovarian cancer is hereditary. No one that I know of in my family had it. Do I blame it on those times when I stupidly lay out in the hot son cooking my skin just so I could get a nice tan? Was it the talcum powder I used? I read somewhere that increased talcum use might be a contributor to ovarian cancers.I read the other day, too, that taller people are more susceptible - such a hokey claim if you ask me. I'm 5' 6".  Supposedly those who don't have children and those who did not breast feed are more likely to be an ovarian cancer candidate. I have two children and breast fed them both until they were close to a year old. Was I being punished for being a dumb teenager? I don't believe God works like that...why am I telling you this, anyway?

I guess maybe I want to remind you that if you get a chance, pay a little less attention to the unimportant and put special emphasis on what truly is meaningful:

- love your family no matter what
- show unconditional love at every opportunity

- love God with your mind, heart and soul

- share Jesus
- help when you can
- share your things, your money, your love, your smile (you never know how good your timing just might be!)
- take a moment to reflect on the sunshine
- give thanks
- pray
- tell someone every day that you love them (and mean it)
- go out of your way to help someone (every day, if you can)
- give or find ways to help raise money for something near and dear to you
- keep a journal or a record somewhere, of your thoughts
- laugh
- cry
- laugh again
- forgive

- pursue your dream with passion

- give your life to the Lord

- dedicate your life to making your corner of the world a better place

- read and relax

- listen to music

- share the good things

- learn a new language - the love language...

- give thanks to God for his mercy endures forever

- pray again

- trust God

Wondering - is my advice my regret...? Hmmm...

Day 9 - Poster with concise content!

Today's health challenge was to create a poster using a specific template provided. I am no graphic designer, but here is one based on my mantra as I journeyed along the cobblestones of cancer.

Photo credit: Amanda Newton. (She is also the model here. She sure can move fast with her camera timer!)

Day 8 - Writing Dialogue

The challenge today is to recall an awesome conversation and write it either in script-style (or with dialogue) from this week.

Okay, so now I am in trouble and I am thinking that I am not going to be able to rise to this health-related challenge. Somehow my addled brain has trouble with such recall and to try to create an honest rendition here about a conversation that has to do with health, is not going to happen. I would be forced to confabulate (exaggerate and making things up!) so instead of going that route, I will present a little one way conversation I had with me, myself and I today.

What? It's dialogue, right?

Me: Happy Easter!
Myself:  Happy Resurrection Day
I: What are you talking about?

Me: Lord, why is it so hard for some people to believe in a resurrected Jesus?
Myself: Happy Resurrection Day!
I: But people might think I have a screw loose if I start talking about resurrection and Jesus and stuff.

Me: Weren't you listening to the sermon today? Pastor D was talking about claiming the victory.
Myself: Happy Resurrection Day!
I: I heard it but I was thinking about how I sometimes wonder

Me: It's okay to wonder. But do you believe? Remember what happened in 2008?
Myself: Happy Resurrection Day!
I: Refresh my memory. Oh, hold on...do you mean during the time we were having those 'health issues?'

Me: Yes, that was it. Remember the Tim Horton's Angel? Remember the prayer right out of the blue. And the time that Sue left a message on my machine saying she was praying for us and she had to call us to find out why? (we hadn't seen her in two years!) Then remember when our favourite scripture appeared at the best of times and at the worst of times? Hardly a coincidence.
Myself: Happy Resurrection Day!
I: Yes, I do recall that now that I think about it. Wow...so many indicators of God's power. I am starting to remember now.

Me: It's Easter today. It's a time for us to (collectively) celebrate the risen Lord. He was set free by the power of God's hand. Remember how when we would watch the incessant drip, drip, dripping of the chemotherapy through the intravenous line, we wondered if we would make it through the week, let alone the year? Well, hello...three Easters later, and here we are. Time to celebrate - would you not say?
Myself: Happy Resurrection Day!
I: Correct! I need to shift focus off us and not make this into something about me (or myself, or I). I think I am going to agree with Myself for the first time in a long time. Don't  mind if I join in!

ME, MYSELF AND I (in one accord):

Day 7 - Free Thinking

Today's challenge had little parameters. The point was whatever I wanted it to be. So I chose a diary entry from August 8th, 2008. I was half way into my chemotherapy and I do believe I was having a bad day.

************
It was a bit of a madhouse today. I am feeling okay but I am going a little bonkers mentally. I want some time to myself.  Someone is always coming; always calling; always visiting. I just want a few days to myself so I can think. My hubby loves this because obviously his social needs are great. Mine aren't. I want to spend three or four straight days writing and thinking and praying - not necessarily in that order!

Silence, pacific solitude.

I long for a measure

Serve me up to sit in stillness.

Lord, must I force a face?

Help him to understand my needs...

I seek to please

But I get nowhere on this Hamster Wheel;
Accused of callousness
Blessed by the unknown sea of faces
Who encourage and pray
Chiseling away at the statue
Within
They call me strong, heroic, courageous.
I am weak, kittenish, meek, selfish
Because I am thinking of me
Out! Darn spot...
Now I will sleep - deep sleep...

**************************

Day 6 - Haiku

An interesting challenge today - write about my health condition or situation using a Haiku format. I am to write more than one...

And I quote: “[A haiku is] a miniature Japanese poem consisting of 17 syllables – five syllables in first line, seven in second, and five in the last. No rhyme or meter scheme is employed when writing haiku. The aim of the haiku is to create something greater than the sum of the parts.”

Let's give it the ol' British try:

Sleep, where art thou, friend?

Will the weary lids fall soon?

Brain on overdrive.

Every step I take

Reminding me of cancer

Every move I make...

Mirrors in my house

Sending me into shock mode

Laughing back at me

Tell Mom I love her

Will I be seeing her soon?

Who will care for Dad?

Death is but a gate

"Any volunteers?" God asks

The key clicks open

Procrastinator

Nudging, coaxing, I will go

Never mind; bed is warm...

Okay, that was probably some pretty bad chemo Haiku. 5-7-5! Night all...bed beckons...



Day 5 - A Picture is Worth a Thousand...

Look at the image… the color, composition, style, details, location. What feelings does this evoke in you? Are you reminded of anything significant in your life? Can you imagine yourself in the photo? Can you relate the image back to your health topic?

These were the directives for today's writing prompt.

As I look at the face of this winged creature, I see a timidity; perhaps some reluctance; maybe even a measure of trust. The bird, although out of its natural realm, still seems peaceful as it perches atop the wrinkled hand.

I don't know much about style, colour and composition, but I must admit that I love the simplistic hues that emphasize the 'bird in the hand...'

A tranquility pervades my being as I gaze upon this unlikely scene. I start thinking about God and how he cares for even the sparrows [and swallows] and how he cares even for me. Trust is the title I would give this picture if anyone ever asked for my two cents.

I remember how lost and alone I felt at times when I was going through chemotherapy for ovarian cancer. I remember tears and spiraling out of control. But I also remember the Hand of God that lifted me up and brought me through. I remember the well-timed acts of mercy, the words of assurance and the power of prayer. Like the little swallow pictured here, I slowly began to trust...

Matthew 10:29-31                  "Not even a sparrow, worth only half a

penny, can fall to the ground without your

Father knowing it. And the very hairs on

your head are all numbered. So don’t be

afraid; you are more valuable to Him than...

a whole flock of sparrows [or swallows]."

Day 4 - I Write About My Health Because...

I don't write about having ovarian cancer because I have any desire to keep re-living it. I write about it because I want other women to know what I didn't.

I didn't know it could creep up on a body and invade quietly; the symptoms - insidious and destructive. I didn't know that cancerous cells were multiplying frantically and tumours were forming. Vague symptoms tapping at my organs indicative perhaps of middle age, alarmed me not. As I look back after the fact, those symptoms should have raised a bit of a red flag. But nothing hurt.

Nothing hurt until the demons were released.

Shortly after that, I decided I would write about what was happening to me.

After all I am a writer. It was part of a natural process...

When I first started journalling after my cancer diagnosis, it was purely for therapeutic reasons. I found great release as I poured out my emotions and gut feelings on paper. Even during my cancer journey, I was pretty good at masking feelings and putting on the right face for the right moment. Journalling forced me to rip off the mask and be real. I didn't have to say 'fine' if I wasn't fine. I didn't have to nod when someone told me how good I looked when I felt like I could projectile vomit at any moment. It was sort of an escape for me; a time and place for me to scribble freely about what was going on not only in my body, but also in my mind.

Then someone suggested I start blogging. I didn't know much about the process but with a little more time on my hands and in between bouts of nausea and lethargy, I managing to grasp and learn the ins and outs of this new found method of communicating.

Soon I met other 'sisters' online and on other blogs who were dealing with the same things I was. I discovered friends and family and sometimes even just the curious, liked keeping up with me and finding out how my life was progressing via my blog.

Teal is the colour of ovarian cancer. Teal is my new red. (Red was my favourite colour.) After I got my head around 'having cancer,' my life turned to teal and my mantra was (is) to spend the rest of my days helping raise awareness (and funds for ovarian cancer research and early detection) and finding ways to educate women and turn up the volume on this disease that really does whisper.

That's why I write about ovarian cancer...