What a difference a day makes.

Saturday, for the first time ever, I felt 'down' because of all the rain we've had. The rain truly doesn't bother me - at least until this year. So this past Saturday I sat in my living room feeling well, blah. Such a dismal picture outside.

Oh, but Sunday. Sunday saw clear skies and NO rain. And then Monday - again, no rain and even patches of blue. Wow. Monday we walked here and there - any chance we got really - anything to get outside. And you know, we weren't the only ones. Everywhere we went we passed other people doing just the same thing. Everyone was smiling and commenting on the weather. It was great - just great. I even have some daffodils, crocuses and snowdrops coming out in my front flowerbed. How beautiful.

It's a good picture of the week to come. Next week is Holy Week. It is something I've been able to spearhead at our Church for the last three years. Just a matter of taking the Wed, Thurs, Friday before Resurrection Day to prepare. So Wednesday is a time to worship, to pray, to reflect. It's a Vespers service, very quiet, very meditative. A good start to preparing your heart for the sorrow to come. Thursday we are going to do a 'symbolic' seder service. I'm a little nervous on this one. It's a big task. The Seder meal is the Jewish Passover meal. We aren't doing a full meal but will be including all the symbolic elements. It is a time to tell the 'God Story' to your children. Friday will be a 'Stations of the Cross' with all the Churches in town. The Hope Ministerial, which includes virtually every Church in Hope, is together sponsoring a cross walk. Last year saw about 80 plus people walking from Church to Church, carrying the cross and doing some readings at each location. It was a very moving time.

So as we allow ourselves to mourn, to feel the sorrow that would have surrounded that first Easter it better prepares us for what is to come. How can you truly enjoy a feast if you've never been hungry? I want to feel the joy, the absolute joy found in the resurrection. And to do that, I must take part in the suffering. Allow myself to feel a bit of pain.

Just like the weather. I don't know that I would truly have appreciated the patchy blue skies, if it hadn't been for the weeks of rain.

A poem from the Persian mystic, Rumi:

God's joy moves from unmarked box to unmarked box,
from cell to cell. As rainwater, down into flowerbed.
As roses, up from ground.
Now it looks like a plate of rice and fish,
now a cliff covered with vines,
now a horse being saddled.
It hides within these,
till one day it cracks them open.

So a few weeks ago I went for a check up at the doctors. My right eye was a bit blurry. My over-cautious doctor was a bit concerned that it was related to the concussion I had so she shipped me off to Chilliwack to see an opthamologist. Whew. Now that's a word. Anyway, he did just shy of a zillion tests and at the end of it all started to chuckle. I'm a wee bit nervous wondering if this blurriness is indeed related to my bonk on the head so his laughter jolted me. Eventually he uttered these wise and oh so profound words...."you're old." hmmm, thanks so much,I'm thinking - tell me something I don't know! He said there was nothing wrong with my eyes other than age and that I was in need of glasses. I probably should have figured this out since I'm the only one in my family without.

So there is the official opthamologist decree: I am old and blind.

And if you can't trust an opthamologist - who can ya trust??

I love our public library - well, not just OUR public library - but libraries in general. What a great service they provide. The woman who heads up our library mentioned yesterday that she is going to be spearheading a campaign promoting literacy.
Apprarently our sweet little town of Hope has a very high drop out rate and in terms of children and literacy, ranks quite poorly. She also said that children watch an average of 30 hours of TV per week. Holy Smoke. And that there are 14 acts of violence per one hour of TV. Now, I'm certainly not anti-TV - but both the TV and the Internet have created a generation who expect everything in short, entertaining soundbites. And not just their escapes, but their information and knowledge as well. I'll be very interested to see how a literacy campaign works in a town like ours.

Now what I was really thinking about when I started this post....I picked up FINALLY a book I ordered from our library months and months ago. It is Anne Lamott's "Bird by Bird". I'm so thrilled. I love Anne Lamott. She is one of those 'people of faith' who doesn't fit into any mold. I disagree with many of her beliefs but so what. She is hilarious, she is real and she truly makes me laugh. She's radical, and she is trying to live her life following what she believes to be the way Jesus did. But this book is more a manual. A manual on how to be a better writer. She teaches writing workshops and has compiled some thoughts and lessons into this book. I'm looking forward to trying her ideas out and seeing if I can put anything onto paper that is slightly worthy of being read.

I often have thoughts in my mind that sound so deep,so profound and challenging bouncing around up there in my grey matter - but the minute I lay them out on a page. Well, frankly, they sound like crap. So I'm hoping to move up the literary ladder. Maybe make the jump from 'crap' to 'strained peas' or 'pureed peaches'.

Who knows if it'll help - but I'm guaranteed to enjoy the read.

Well, the day has finally arrived. After months and months of prep and discussions - the Kuhn family is on the road. My sister and her family are off for 3 months to Birmingham, Alabama. The Church (our Church) where my b-i-l serves as senior pastor has given him a 3 month sabbatical. So as of today, their adventure begins. One van, 4 daughters and 3 months plus worth of stuff.

I'm excited for them. I hope it is all that they hope for and then some. Jeff is able to study, to reflect, to hang out with his family. Ang will hopefully be able to work on some creative side stuff, and the kids - well, I hope this is a healing time - they still suffer the effects of my accident. It has been a hard road for them. And I hope that as a family they are able to create amazing memories.

But I'm beyond sad too. Honestly, it feels like my left arm has been cut off. And yes, I am left handed. But hey, 3 months will pass quickly and fortunately we've got good friends and lots of support here at home.

It's just different. *sigh*

On Tuesday mornings I head out to my Church and spend a couple hours with about 12 other ladies talking, sharing and praying. We are a diverse bunch - ages range from late 30's to early 70's. We come from all different backgrounds and actually, we don't even all go to the same church. It's one of the best things in my life. This week we are talking about "abiding". As in 'abiding in Christ, the Vine'.

Sunday night we had a HUGE storm - not as big as the 'accident' storm but strong winds none the less. I didn't sleep. Not a bit. I was absolutely terrified. The girls slept in our room and they slept very little. We even managed to pull Reid in and he got nervous and then of course he had extra stress because of water being in places it shouldn't be!

So of course I prayed. I asked God to a. Stop the storm
b. Stop me from being so scared
c. Help me to abide

The storm raged, I was frightened and I'm not sure about this whole abiding thing.

Sigh. So much to work through, so much to learn.

For the last two weeks I've been thinking more about the accident. I'm sure that many of you are a little tired of the subject - but bear with me. I don't have any actual memory of it so I'm slowly asking questions of the people around me and trying to understand what happened that day.

One thing I don't feel about this event in my life is anger, or sorrow or even fear for that matter. What has up to a point been all about me and my recovery is transforming into a 'God story'. I cannot help but look at what happened and be in awe of a great and powerful God. And, truth be told, it isn't because of the fact that I survived. I could have died and it still would be a 'God story'. When I
consider the happenings that occurred around me - they all point to a great and an extremely powerful God - who, in joy and pain takes care of His people.

But, that's not really what's been on my mind. My excitement has been because I now have my very own, personal "God Story" and I can tell of my God and His power in my life. I love traditions - So many of the Jewish traditions appeal to me. Years ago I was reading through the Old Testament, honestly something I don't like. In Deuteronomy however I came across a phrase that was repeated over and over. It was

Teach them to your children and to their children after them.
Deuteronomy 4:8-10

Assemble the people before me to hear my words so that they may learn to revere me as long as they live in the land and may teach them to their children."Deuteronomy 4:9-11

Teach them to your children, talking about them when you sit at home and when you walk along the road, when you lie down and when you get up.Deuteronomy 11:18-20

I love this idea of telling the stories of God to the next generation. Nothing communicates like a great story - and your own personal God Story - well, that really packs a punch. And I love that now I have my own story and Reid & I are telling it to our children. I want them to see how God was in this. How He is the Almighty. And how they can trust Him, even if they don't understand Him.

Do you have a story? I hope you are telling it.

We spent a great deal of this week in Chilliwack at a Piano Festival. Caris and Phoebe both played. They had 2 songs each and of course they were all on different days and evenings. I have to tell you I was dreading the whole affair. Who needs the pressure of playing in front of people and an adjudicator and the scores of volunteers etc etc.

Well, I was wrong. It was a great experience. It gave the girls discipline - they had to commit serious time to practicing - and it gave them confidence. The adjudicator was a wonderful woman who obviously love kids and loves piano. She was so affirming, so positive. The girls walked away from this event with pride and confidence in their abilities. They handled the nerves beautifully and showed me that when push comes to shove - they can do what needs to be done.

I'm a proud mom today. Interesting that something as simple as weekly piano lessons can turn into something so much bigger - that they can somehow crossover and touch all areas of life.