Getting Your Ducks in a Row

 

Today I understand better the saying: "Getting All My Ducks in a Row"

 

Ever felt like your head is full of ducks.....so many different critters all quacking for your attention while you are trying to figure out your life. Nothing makes sense, and you are fighting for survival?

 

 

Maybe it's time to let some of these thoughts out.

 

My week: a client, who is almost 80, came in with his 24 year-old girlfriend. He is very deaf, and she is a skinny-as-a-rail former meth-head mother of three. They have been together since his wife died, and he seems unconcerned that she has had 3 kids in the interim. He is so concerned about her "lisbean" friend coming to the house and getting between them that he is yelling it all over the courthouse lobby and she is shaking her head in embarrassment and maybe even a little pride.

This was the same day I counseled someone whose boyfriend had punched her numerous times in the head, but she still "loves him"; someone else who has been swindled out of many thousands and is so distressed over losing her life savings; someone else who was attacked by her doctor; and someone who was kidnapped and attacked by 3 men; and someone who sat in my office a month ago is now dead.

 

 

This has been my life for the last year, not including the heartbreaking stories of the children who have been abused by step-family members, or even their own parents. And don't get me started on the people who lie to me every day.

 

In the meantime, while I hope I am making a difference somewhere, somehow, the grant that funds my position gets dwindled down to 1/6 of what it was....hmmm...what does that mean? I do not know.

 

My brain is tumbling with a million different thoughts....Maybe I just need to make some room for all the other things that are likely to come my way today and this week, this month, this year! My ducks are not all in a row yet, but just thinking of it in that way has helped.  Quack, quack....

 

 

 

 

Closing a door and Opening a Window...Really, God? Again??

Dear God, How many times in this life do I have to re-invent myself? 

It is rather exhausting picking myself up by my bootstraps once again....hey, I am 58 and fairly energetic. You created me with enough energy for two people some days, and I know how to get things done. 

But this thing about moving me on to other jobs, callings, careers? Well, sometimes I just find it hard to do. New co-workers, new offices, new clients, changes all over the place.

Now don't get me wrong, I love change. You know me, I get bored easily which is why I like projects. A new project for me to dive into with both feet, and you know I am going to do that again. You made me a passionate caring woman, and I love that about myself. (My husband does too!)

So, Lord, give me the courage to do it all over again. Give me the wisdom to deal with new people, and to make a difference for you in the next challenge too. 

Thanks for the opportunity to see my world and my work in a whole new way. I appreciate that about you, God. You have given me some amazing opportunities. 

But Lord, do you think this could be the last change in my working career? Hmmm......that would be nice. 

Well, as long as I don't end up on the street....Amen.

Chasing Francis...Someone send me to Italy, please.

A sort of review of Chasing Francis by Ian Morgan Cron

Fiction wisdom literature is an interesting genre in Christian publishing, and it has been revived in recent years. This genre had mostly been used for self-help or even new age authors trying to pass on a story with underlying morals, principles, and yes....wisdom. I generally stay away from Christian fiction, because I am an English Literature major, which means I am a snob about good writing, and except for the exceptions like Madeline L'Engle or C.S.Lewis who are in a category of their own, the fiction I read is generally not published by Zondervan.

Think of when The Shack exploded onto the market a few years ago. When I read The Shack, I knew it was fiction and read it as such. People were recommending it as a must-read but they all refused to give you any details. "You have to read it for yourself," they said. I heard preachers praising it or condemning it because some thought it was being portrayed as an actual experience and that scared them, and some thought it had some new and interesting thoughts and that excited them. What I took from reading it was that God was awfully fond of me, and I like the idea of God having a good sense of humor. While I take my faith very seriously, the novel introduced me to the possibility of a sense of playfulness in my relationship with God.

Reading a blog recently that praised a new book, I went to the website of Ian Morgan Cron and saw the chance to download two chapters of his new book, Chasing Francis. Reading those two chapters made me laugh and made me cry....and I immediately went to Amazon and ordered the book. When it arrived, I was disappointed to discover that the book was a work of fiction...wisdom literature it was called. Don't get me wrong....I am a fiction junkie. I often read 100+ books a year, and over half of those would be fiction. But those two chapters had led me into believing this was someone's real life account of their experience, and I was hooked.

I wanted to vicariously follow this stumbling pastor who had lost his way and see what he saw on his pilgrimage in Italy. I wanted him to be a real human being that I could relate to, and not just use his story as a fictional escape from my own life.  Like The Shack, The Celestine Prophecy, and many others, Chasing Francis has a fabulous idea, and pulls you into a story that keeps you going.....until the third last chapter or so....every one of those authors seems to have a little schmaltzy lag in the story line around that part of the book, which in this case, revives again, even with a fairly predictable ending. Chasing Francis has its' lag when the hard-luck, clumsy but beautiful single woman from his congregation chases him to Italy.

The pastor has this perfect (and much coveted by me) opportunity to find himself in Italy. He conveniently has an uncle who is an Italian Franciscan monk who takes him on a pilgrimage, following the life work of St. Francis of Assisi. I learned a great deal about the saint's life that I never knew before, and it made me want to read more about this rich kid who turns his world upside down and restores the faith and the church of a community in rural Italy (Francis would be considered a bit of a celeb today, maybe even a bit of a nutcase, but loveable and very admirable in his faith). In the process of his pilgrimage, the pastor meets with the wise hermit who can give wisdom just by his presence, the jovial friar, and the clumsy woman who wins his heart. All the characters help him in his inner pilgrimage to "restore the joy of his salvation".

It is different when an actual autobiography or even memoir where the author tells a story of what actually happened, but when you are making it appear to be a memoir, and it lapses into schmaltzy, even if for a chapter or two, it is deflating for the reader because you want so badly for this to be a true actual real story. I REALLY DID!!

I did greatly enjoy the book, and would hope that Mr. Cron would not take offense at the word schmaltzy, as his writing has moments of brilliance and despite the one chapter, the reader is left with a connection (with the pastor's struggles), a sense of wonder (at the life and work of Francis of Assisi) and longing (I too would love to take the same pilgrimage). If only I had an uncle who was a Franciscan monk and would invite me to Italy.....alas, none of my uncles would ever qualify as monks.




 

Monday, Monday...under the mango tree.....

Like the lyrics to the song made famous by the Mamas and the Papas, I find Monday mornings the most difficult part of the week, right after Sunday evening.

There seems to be a pattern to our days, and for a semi-free spirit like myself, I often wish that there could be more spontaneity to my life. Like this, the first ever flash mob dance that seemed spontaneous but of course had been very carefully choreographed and has now been imitated many times in many different ways.

 
If money is no object, then you have the freedom to "do" more spontaneous things, but as there are moths in my wallet, I will just have to "be" more spontaneous. We heard a good sermon this past week on doing and being.

We, especially as North Americans, just want to do, do, do......and in other countries, it is often more important that you "be". I have reminded of this many times as I see many churches (my own included) or service clubs sending out mission teams that always "do" construction or VBS for kids, or medical missions, etc. etc.  Of course many of these things are much needed. Yet we also need to "be"....be present in the moment, be in the lives of the people we want to "do" things for, be a light in the darkness, be a loving, caring human being. After all, we are called human "be"ings, not human "do"ings, although the later might apply to some of us.

A Malawian friend once said to me, "Sometimes it is just so good to have someone visit from North America who will  just be with us, sit with us, walk with us, eat with us, and let us know that there are other people of faith in this world. We are not alone, and because you have been here with us, we can be together in our struggle to live a life of faith, especially when times are hard."

It was a profound moment for me.

Since that time, I have tried to always find at least one person in the country that I am visiting with whom I can sit under a mango tree, or in their front yard, or in their school or church, and just listen and maybe talk. It is amazing at the amount of communication you can have with someone whose language you do not know, through gestures, smiles, and nods. If I see a woman sorting beans or chopping tomatoes, I will often sit beside her and help her in her work if she is okay with that.

Maybe I just need more time under the mango tree today.

Monday Monday, so good to me,
Monday Monday, it was all I hoped it would be
Oh Monday morning, Monday morning couldn't guarantee
That Monday evening you would still be here with me.

Monday Monday, can't trust that day,
Monday Monday, sometimes it just turns out that way
Oh Monday morning, you gave me no warning of what was to be
Oh Monday Monday, how could you leave and not take me.

Every other day, every other day,
Every other day of the week is fine, yeah
But whenever Monday comes, but whenever Monday comes
You can find me cryin' all of the time

Monday Monday, so good to me,
Monday Monday, it was all I hoped it would be
Oh Monday morning, Monday morning couldn't guarantee
That Monday evening you would still be here with me.

Every other day, every other day,
Every other day of the week is fine, yeah
But whenever Monday comes, but whenever Monday comes
You can find me cryin' all of the time

Monday Monday, ...

Shining a little Light into Darkness

Light vs. Darkness

Two friends shared extreme opposite views on their FaceBook status this week. One, a woman whose blog I love and follow, said  "How can light enter the dark if Christians are too afraid of what the dark will do to them?" She was in Asia, seeing the destructive side of darkness personified in the sex-trafficking of girls in Cambodia. She wants to shed light into this darkness. 

The other, a guy who works in a prison and sees darkness everyday, posted a photo that he says looks tame compared to his workplace. Everything about the picture made me think of living in darkness. Grimy people using their middle finger, lying or crawling on the ground like Zombies; it seemed to me to personify the hopelessness I imagine the world might hold for people who have no faith in God and do not live in the Light. 

As a Christian, and as a Victim Advocate in the legal system, I know there is evil in this world. One defendant recently walked out of the courtroom where he was given probation after beating up his girlfriend, and declared, "I just made a deal with the devil." He went on to beat up another man very severely and is now in prison for the next 7 years. Some deal. John 3:19 This is the verdict: Light has come into the world, but people loved darkness instead of light because their deeds were evil.

I appreciate the fight against darkness that Jamie (FB: Jamie the very worst missionary) and so many others are in thick of, often standing toe to toe with evil on a line in the sand. That is why I am doing the job I have (in spite of low pay and few perks) as a Victim Advocate. Every morning as I drive to work, I pray...for not only the victims of crime that I spend time with, but also that the whole armor of God protects my heart and my mind in the hearing of how often children and women and men are treated by other human beings in a ways that make your stomach turn and your eyes want to weep. I do it because I also strongly believe in the power of The LIGHT. John 8:12 Jesus said, “I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.” Jesus is the light in the darkness. 

Ephesians 6:10-12: Finally, be strong in the Lord and in his mighty power. Put on the full armor of God, so that you can take your stand against the devil’s schemes. For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms.

The only way we can fight the fight is covered with the armor of God. There are a lot of pieces to this "armor". Ephesians 6:13-19: Therefore put on the full armor of God, so that when the day of evil comes, you may be able to stand your ground, and after you have done everything, to stand. 14 Stand firm then, with the belt of truth buckled around your waist, with the breastplate of righteousness in place, 15 and with your feet fitted with the readiness that comes from the gospel of peace. 16 In addition to all this, take up the shield of faith,with which you can extinguish all the flaming arrows of the evil one. 17 Take the helmet of salvation and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God. 18 And pray in the Spirit on all occasions with all kinds of prayers and requests. With this in mind, be alert and always keep on praying for all the Lord’s people. 19 Pray also for me, that whenever I speak, words may be given me so that I will fearlessly make known the mystery of the gospel. 

The good news is that we can make a difference. John 1:5 The Light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it. The darkness does not win. "Evil only happens when good men and women do nothing" as Edmund Burke said. Put on your armor...it's time to fight.

I can't sleep....but glad for a wee bit of joy.

Joy comes at you in surprising ways, often where you least expect it!

Tonight my husband returned after a week of work in South Carolina. I had spent my week working, cleaning closets, and finishing a few projects. It was joyful to be together after 8 nights apart, especially as I was not expecting him for 2 more nights. Now it's 2 a.m. and I cannot fall asleep.

Yesterday I was able to spend the afternoon with a dear friend whose arm was in a cast, who has some major decisions in front of her, and who is stressed, tired, and hurting. Yet as we sat outside with our dogs at our feet, a nice glass of wine in our hands, and a lovely view in front of us, we experienced joy in being together and celebrating friendship.

Today I met with two friends. One asked me travel questions for her upcoming overseas trip - strange as it may seem,  this filled me with joy. I love it when someone asks for my advice about travel! I have so much overseas travel experience and it is a shame not to pass that on to someone. I am also thrilled to see her expanding her wings with her first international adventure. A second friend shared her experiences working with a mutual acquaintance which clarified that I was not losing my mind. Well, I might still be crazy but at least not about this issue. She had the same frustrations working with this person so I could rest easy knowing it wasn't just me. That gave me some joy. Wouldn't you be joyful to know you were not losing your mind!

Last Sunday at our church I took a class that revealed , through a series of interesting exercises, evaluations and tests, what ministry we might be suited for in our church. It was no surprise to me that I have some unusual God-given gifts, according to this process (and many similar evaluations) especially for a woman in a Lutheran church, and I think that once again, the pastoral staff won't know what to do with me. But it gave me joy just to have confirmed that I am not nuts and God has given me gifts to use - and if my church can't use me then maybe God will use me elsewhere. 

On Friday a client going through a very tough time asked to pray with her. It was on government property but I joyfully prayed with her. She left more peaceful and less stressed with a little bit of hope too. 

Joy often comes in the oddest places and times. In spite of continued stresses in my life, most beyond my control, God gave me a few moments of joy....and for that I am really quite joyful.

Special Words....

Our Director of CE and Youth Pastor, Emily, a wonderful and energetic young woman, is off to Texas with a whole bunch of teenagers to go to a National Youth Convention event.

19 of them and her, I think I heard. Traveling on a bus for a few days...fun, fun!

As a member of the church where Emily works and ministers, and as a writer, I was asked to create notes to some of these 20 young people as they attended this event and travelled back and forth by bus. One of the fathers had the idea that a surprise note for each person attending this event every day would be a good encouragement to them. (I hope he is right. )

So I did that - wrote 9 or 10 notes to the young people whose names I was given, and one to Emily as well, as she was also on my list. I was to write a note for the individual for a certain date of the trip, and these were to be handed out on the bus every morning.

It was an interesting process, writing these notes. I spent time in prayer before writing each one, and asked the Holy Spirit to guide my thoughts as I was writing, and to touch each person as they read my notes. I wrote from my heart and what I thought God wanted me to say. Then when I was done, I re-read what I had written, and was quite amazed at my audacity. Well, actually, not mine, but the Holy Spirit's boldness. These were not words I would have ordinarily written to people I knew, even if I was their best friend. The words all spoke directly to certain issues, and believe me, except for Emily, I do not know these kids. But God knows their hearts, and what they need each day of this important week.

Mark 13:11 "Just say whatever is given you at the time, for it is not you speaking, but the Holy Spirit."

And I was reminded that God does know our inner heart, knows us better than our best friends, or even our boyfriend/girlfriend, spouse, or our parents. God's Holy Spirit amazes me continually, and gives me information and direction about how to live my life to please God, if I only listen. That's why I have two ears and one mouth, I also keep reminding myself. Not to sound weird or airy-fairyish, but I know that if I listen, God will give me direction. And innately, I already know what was right - in God's eyes - and what I need to do, because I am a much-loved child of God.

As children of God, we have not only the right, but also the privilege, to be directed by the Holy Spirit. We are to be guided and comforted by his nudges to do what is right in the eyes of God - not in our own eyes, because we often have warped views of right and wrong based on how we were brought up, or what experiences life has brought us, or past poor or wrong decisions we have made. However, if we have given our hearts and lives to God and his forgiving love, we can take a quiet moment, and actually listen to His Spirit's gentle nudge. I say nudge because God rarely speaks with thunderous tones. If He did, we would all listen, wouldn't we?. No, it is with quiet nudges and gut impressions, so that we will slow ourselves down enough to listen...and understand that this is God's direction, not our own.

Romans 15:13 "May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit".

So as you go through your day, with continual choices to make, I pray that the Holy Spirit of God will guide you with joy and enthusiasm!!

How to REALLY find your bliss....7 ways I try to do that.

Interesting that the most readers I had on any one blog was titled, How to Find Your Bliss...in a really Tough Job. In re-reading my blog, I realized that I had not addressed the issue of my topic.

Where is my bliss?

 

So much of all work is repetitive, and so much is unfulfilling, but just needs to be done. Scut work we used to call it in the hospital. Some days the clock seems to stand still, and my eyes are bleary from looking at the computer screen. Some days my left ear is hot from not only holding the phone, but maybe from the words coming through it. Some days I am running back and forth, up and down, from courtroom to prosecutor's office, meeting people in my office, in the law library, in the court room.

 

So with all the hurting victims I deal with every day, how do I find bliss in a tough job?

 

1. First and foremost, I care. I care about the people for whom I have been asked to advocate in this job of victim advocate, but I care in whatever job I do. I cared about how the motorcycle dealership looked, operated and how it took care of its customers. I cared about the 60,000 families our program fed in Zambia. I cared about my patients when I operated LifeLine Therapy Clinic. I work with someone who does not care and admits that. While he is a fun person, is always good to talk to, my work is often harder because he does not care.

In this job, if I did not care, I would not be true to my faith that asks me to take care of hurting people.
Matthew 25:34-40, Jesus is talking to his disciples about why they should help others:
"Then the King will say to those on his right, ‘Enter, you who are blessed by my Father! Take what’s coming to you in this kingdom. It’s been ready for you since the world’s foundation. And here’s why:

I was hungry and you fed me,
I was thirsty and you gave me a drink,
I was homeless and you gave me a room,
I was shivering and you gave me clothes,
I was sick and you stopped to visit,
I was in prison and you came to me.’

Then those people are going to say, ‘Master, what are you talking about? When did we ever see you hungry and feed you, thirsty and give you a drink? And when did we ever see you sick or in prison and come to you?’ Then the King will say, ‘I’m telling the solemn truth: Whenever you did one of these things to someone overlooked or ignored, that was me—you did it to me."

 

If I did not care, I would not be true to who I am as a human being, looking beyond my own selfish world and give a hand up to someone who is often calling for that hand. It is too easy to ignore the cries of others.

 

2. While this might seem like an opposite to the above "first and foremost", I take mini-vacations. 5 minutes here, 5 minutes there. To either read an email, or shut my eyes and go to my "happy spot", or if no one else is in the office, get up and dance for a couple of minutes. I have a 200 song playlist of songs I really like in Spotify.com and I play my favorite tunes when not on phone or with a client. I have an energizing playlist and a relaxing playlist. Sometimes, I deliver the letters I write to victims one at a time to the main office mailbag on the third floor, get up, run up the 30 steps, just to get the blood flowing.

 

3. I talk about my work with a colleague. She, starting here after me, is bright, capable, and knows the work I do. She appreciates what I do to help her, and she knows that sometimes this work is overwhelming. We can commiserate about the progress or outcome of cases and help each other not to get overwhelmed.

 

4. I shake my work off like a cloak when I leave the office. I do not worry or fret about my clients - or very rarely after I drive away from the courthouse. There are enough other things to fret and worry about when I get home. My clients' stories do not keep me awake at night because I do not let them. I have prayed for many a client during the day on a mini-vay-cay but I have asked God to protect my mind from their hurts, angers, and anguish after I leave my office, and He has honored that request.

 

5. I have a husband who gives exceptionally good hugs. His arms know just when to envelope me and give me a safe place in this world. So when I do come home exhausted, his hugs refresh and center me.

 

6. I like to eat and that paycheck sure helps. So, when on the last day of the month, I see the number appear in my bank account that will pay the bills, the hard work feels worth it. I feel a little satisfaction in knowing that I am making a decent contribution to our household.

 

7. I take time to travel. Often to interesting and sometimes exotic places....like riding a motorcycle through Morocco, like living in a rural village in Malawi, like the Canadian prairies, as often as I can. I shop at thrift shops, have not done any much-needed remodeling on my house, and cut down on everything I can in order to travel as much as possible. Traveling gets me out of my comfort zone, out of my small thinking, so that I can expand my mind, use my inner resources and become a "bigger" person. Is this paid vacation time? Heck, no. And I don't work, I don't get paid....but that time away is so very refreshing and I come back better and stronger, having aired out the cobwebs in my mind.

 

So that's how I find my bliss...how about you?

 

 

This very minute, I am making a choice.....

CHOICES:
There are two primary choices in life: to accept conditions as they exist, or accept the responsibility for changing them.
http://t.usnews.com/bC97A

 

 

Choices every single day, life choices, food choices, activity choices. Mostly benign choices, but often life-changing choices. 

 

There is a great book out, called Make Shift Happen by Dean Dyer. Dean Dwyer is a former teacher, who quit his job to accept a more ambitious mission: Could he actually make MAKE SHIFT HAPPEN in his own life? Well, it seems he did...his website is http://kickstartyourunlivedlife.com/ and I like many of his ideas. The book was so good that I took his 20 "shifts" and made my own notebook of those shifts and made them my own.

 

Today, I  make the choice to DO SOMETHING SEISMIC! I am in control of my life .....or am I?

 

My job is dependent on whether or not my grant is renewed. So I can choose whether or not to work for free ......Not! I can always choose to try to find another job. I have to live with the consequences that I am a renaissance woman and have many skills, interests and experience that don't always fit into a cookie-cutter job - which makes it harder to find satisfying work.

 

My husband has made a job choice so he is commuting 100 miles! What choices does that give me? Hmmmm......sometimes we have to live with the consequences of other people's choices too. I chose to deal with his choice without uprooting our residence.

 

I chose my own car for first time in my life last month - made the deal myself too. Hubby says "good choice". It makes me feel good to drive a slight-used Jeep that runs well, instead of settling for the old Jeep that needed new gaskets and was dripping oil, just to "make-do".

 

I do choose what to put in my mouth today...and I take full responsibility for the weight I have gained over the very stressful past year...today I am deciding to stop eating everything in sight. If I do that every day, my skinny clothes that fill half my closet will fit again by September!

 

I choose what to spend my hard-earned money on, whether to buy something for me to look at in my house, or simply pay bills, or send to a struggling school in Zambia.

 

I chose to say Yes to my husband's proposal of marriage, and I choose to love my big imperfect man, who is perfect for me. I would say the most fun we have together is when we are travelling, and share new experiences together. As my son-in-law says to our daughter, "your parents are just gypsies". Could be true.

 

I chose to say Yes to God, when he asked for my heart, and in return He gave me joy. I choose today to live in joy, not despair. I chose to delight in God, the prime directive according to John Piper. More on that later....

 

Every day, millions of choices, including how I spend every minute of every day. We have free will to make those choices, and then have to accept the consequences of each of those choices.

 

I hereby take full and total responsibility for my choices. What about you?

How to find your bliss.....in really tough work.

There have been better days......

I thought I was going to hire two interns. Well, I actually did hire them on Friday. Two delightful intelligent young college students came to my office last week. I was impressed with them. By Monday noon of this week, one left in tears, the other said after reading a brochure on domestic violence that she was not the right person for this work, and she left too.

The truth of it is that my work deals with hurting people every single day. It is not easy work, rarely joyful work and sometimes I want to leave in tears too. My work as a Victim Advocate means that I speak for and work with victims of crime....crimes as simple as a theft or as complex as domestic assault, child abuse or even murder. 

I read an interesting quote by a poet recently: "You think an artist's job is to speak the truth. I think an artist's job is to captivate you for however long we've asked for your attention. If we stumble on the truth, we got lucky. I don't get to decide what truth is. I write poetry and that's how I enter the world."

I don't get to force people to make the right decisions for their lives. But if they give me the attention I ask for through my work, we might stumble on the truth for their future together. They have to acknowledge the truth of their lives....that they are perhaps staying with a man that is abusing them and they are staying for many different reasons: they need his paycheck, they think they will be lonely, they have children together, they do not know any other way of life. If I can look in their eyes, and if I can convey to them the love of God through that connection, sometimes they stumble on the truth: that there are options....they can leave the abuse for something better...scary, different, but maybe better. 

I don't blame the interns for leaving. For not starting. 

I wonder what truth they stumbled on?

Life is not fair...Surprise!

Fairness: marked by impartiality and honesty : free from self-interest, prejudice or favoritism 

My parents raised me to believe the world is a fair place. I only realized this when I was an adult. That was one of the worst things they could have done to me. Cruel and unusual punishment. They did this in many ways, but let me give you three of the more humorous examples:

1. After I was married, I and my sister and my brother would get Christmas gifts - let's say worth $100 each. However my gift only cost $92. 57, my sister's cost $100.10 and my brother's cost $108.83. My sister and I would each get an envelope to make up the difference - my envelope contained $16.26 and my sister's envelope contained $8.73. It all had to be fair. This probably happened when we were younger in a different way, as we usually got similar gifts or gifts made by my mother. 

2. When my sister and I (who both live far away from our parents) call our mother, she can talk for an hour or more, full of news and opinions and chatty, usually cheerful talk. However, when she calls us, we are certain that she has a little black book wherein she records the number of minutes she has talked to the other child. We both have noticed after a few minutes of catch up news, she gets very antsy, and is full of "well, I am sure you are busy, I should let you go." "No, Mom, I am fine, not busy at all." "Well, I am sure you are about to make supper." "No, Mom, we already ate, dishes are done. I am just relaxing." "Well, I better let you go..." and we finally let her go, and compare notes later to see how many minutes we each got that week, and it is usually always the same. 

3. I once got a birthday card that said, "you are the best child...blah, blah, blah." However, my mother crossed that out and put in a little arrow and the words, "one of the best children". She wanted the card to be fair to all of her children and not favor one over the other. 

My father's life was not fair - due to his parents' inaction against an abusive teacher, my father did not get past the fifth grade, even though he was considered the brightest boy in the class. He was the oldest boy in a family of 13 children during the depression. Food and shelter was limited, and my father still eats very fast out of habit. He worked 13 years for a horrible construction company before getting the courage to change to a company that appreciated his loyalty. He complains often that life was not fair to him. 

My mother's life was not fair. She was also a very bright student, but her parents would not let her go to high school, even though the principal of her school begged with her parents. As the youngest of 11 children, she was loved and protected from how cruel the world could be. They, loving grandparents though they were to me, did not see any need for my mother to have any higher learning - she was after all only going to get married and have children. Even though she could have obtained her GED later, she said it would not be fair to our dad if she had high school education and he did not. 

I was their oldest child, 5 years older than my sister and 12 years older than my brother. We were the foster family for numerous babies, toddlers and small boys as well, and with 81 first cousins on both sides, and many neighbor children, our yard was always busy. My mother was an excellent cook, and was able to make delicious meals out of almost nothing. I did not know that we were working poor until I was 12 years old. My father knew that I needed shoes for school as I had outgrown my last pair. He took me to Lipsetts Family Footware in August 1967. I saw a pair of black shoes for $12 - remember this was 1967 - which I knew would be stylish for eighth grade. My father asked me if those were really the shoes that I wanted. He asked me in such a way that I had a twelve year old epiphany: Those $12 would really be a stretch for my father's limited budget. I told him I would look around a little. In the backroom of the store was a sale table. On that table was a pair of white nurses' shoes for $4. They fit me perfectly, and I persuaded my dad that those were really the shoes I wanted. I wore them for the whole eighth grade with pride if with no style at all. Not fair? To whom?

I was born with a congenital heart defect. I had an aunt (my mother's sister) who died at age 19 with very similar symptoms. The doctor who did my open heart surgery when I was 18 told me that I would have been dead in 6 months, just about the time of my 19th birthday. Now I have a plastic piece in my aorta that allowed me at 21 to be more athletic than I was at age 16 - as a child I was always picked last for baseball, my favorite, as I could not run fast at all. I grew up not knowing why life was not fair and why I could not compete properly in track and field which I loved. As I grew up and began to have a larger world view, I often wondered why life was not as fair as my parents thought it should be.

This sense of instilled fairness is both a blessing and a curse. It means that I am constantly disappointed when other people treat me in a way that is good only for their own agenda and I often take it personally. It means that I work my butt off to try to make things fair for others, whether its the victims of crime I work with everyday, or my children who struggle with life at times, or my grandchildren, some of whom started life with a strike already against them. or the at-risk children in Malawi and Zambia. Sometimes I get too involved with trying to make things fair. It means that I fight for what is right, and say it out loud, often to the embarrassment of my family. It means that I often don't get "political" office nuances because I take everything at face value. I say what I mean, mean what I say and expect the same realness from others. 

So, at 58, my balloon has finally burst and I am trying to listen to a friend who has told me to write on my hand, my computer, on post-it notes all over "Life is not fair." I think it is supposed to help me to relax when things do not go the way I think they should. I think I will always have a sense of fairness stronger than most, but hopefully I am consciously aware of this fault of mine, and give myself and others a little more slack. 

What do you think?

So sorry.. But it came to pass.....

 If I have offended anyone in the past year, I am sorry and I apologize.

My favorite Bible verse this year is Matthew 26:1 "And it came to pass..." By the way, that phrase, "and it came to pass..." is used 396 times in the King James translation of the Bible. Why is this my favorite? Because it did not come to stay.

This past year, since last June, has been an extremely difficult year for our family in so very many different ways that I cannot and will not describe here. Suffice it to say, this has been the year from you know where....okay, I will say it....the year from hell.

When I was nineteen, I almost died without knowing why. Only because I pushed a car out of a ditch were the doctors able to diagnose my life-threatening congenital heart defect and give me a new plastic aorta through open-heart surgery.

I would have that horrible surgery all over again just to take out all the bad parts of the last year...and throw them back to you know where. Don't make me say it again.

So I am apologizing to all the people who know me to say that if I was curt, short, snappy, argumentative, stressed, rude, forgetful, or anything else in that vicinity, I am so sorry if I offended you in any way. I have cried, yelled, screamed, wept bitter tears, panicked, paced, and some days put on a plastic public face. Most of that I have done behind closed doors, occasionally on a friend's shoulder, more often in my husband's arms, or on the road in my car. My dog Cleo has just quietly shadowed me without being overly affectionate, knowing somehow my boundaries for her needs this year.

Canadians (and Canada is where I was born), have a tendency to say "I'm sorry", instead of "Excuse me" like the Americans do. There is almost an inherent tendency in our frozen DNA to apologize for existing. I know this drives some of my American friends up the wall, but Canadians have it down to an art form. In fact, one relative (through marriage) was so upset, because I said "I apologize..." for whatever I had done, again! instead of saying "I am sorry..." that she did not talk to me for two years. Or was it the other way around? I forget now, but either way, I was wrong and I had not verbally atoned enough to satisfy her wronged soul.

In my work, I deal with hurt people, victims of crime, many with painful stories that tear me up inside. If nothing else, this past year has helped me look beyond their crude language, their acting out, their vulgar attitudes, to try to see the hurting person underneath. Sometimes I find one, and sometimes I don't. If I do, then I can use my knowledge and experience of how I felt with my terrible year to encourage them to do the next right thing, to make good decisions that will affect their lives and even the lives of their children. My psychologist friend will say that I am talking to myself and I most probably am.

So it came to pass. June 15 is hopefully the end of the worst year of my life....I am hoping for some really really good news on that day. Someone I love will have a great new job OR I will get a raise OR Someone will discover me as an artist or a writer and will offer me to travel all expenses paid while I get to do something wildly creative for them OR a huge amount of money will come in to fund the schools in Malawi and Zambia that I am working with OR my family will just have a wonderfully quiet peaceful year. No drama, no tragedies, no life-threatening illnesses, no crimes, no fortunes lost, no loss of jobs. Just quiet zen-like peace.

If that doesn't happen, I am truly sorry.