June was an eventful month. It took awhile for that to register, yeah, but it often takes a long time for things to settle into my cranium, and be able to connect the dots and see the relevance to things now.

I had my birthday in June. It was really sweet,  how 2 of my sisters came the night before and said they’re the birthday committee, and would I like to go away for a picnic the next day, or have a special tea at home? I opted for staying at home, and they had a most elegant array of food and drink and of course gifts that graced the china on the coffee table. I had ordered iced mocha and nachos which is not entirely a conventional tea menu, but they carried it off with gracious ingenuity. ( I made up that word and use it alot because it’s Very Useful.)

And my sister designed this lovely feminine, artsy, pink menu for the tea. One of the menu items was lembas, but sadly the kitchen had no lembas that day. The menu had lots of cute sayings and lovely fonts scattered throughout. Clearly, it was the kind I put in  my journal. Anyhow, at the very bottom, it had Latin quotes in bold. I asked her what they mean, and she said she doesn’t know, but that it denotes mystery, like a woman. I thought it was fitting to be reminded of mystery on my birthday.

Then 4 days later, another mystery appeared. My doctor became very concerned when she found 2 palpable masses in my stomach. ( I had discovered them months ago when doing the massage course, but thought it was digestion problems, and didn’t do anything about it because it didn’t hurt.) The xray was inconclusive, and an ultrasound appt. was made for the next week. Came home from a harrowing afternoon in the hospital and went on a walk to clear my head and talk with God. There I had the strong impression that I must ask to be annointed, following the pattern set in James 4.

So the next night, the church leaders and sisters gathered in our living room, and we committed this mystery to God, affirming our trust in His love and wisdom. The lumps didn’t disappear like I’d ask God for, but His peace was and is beyond words.

On Sept. 16 I’m planning to be seen by the interventional radiologist who will do the embolization on the tumors. Basically, that means blocking the blood supply to the tumors, so that they shrink. They are still growing noticeably, and are affecting my moves somewhat, but not much. It’s painful to slouch, so that improves my posture! They are big enough that embolization may not be an option, which means major surgery to remove the tumors. (One is at least 14 cms across.) The worst case scenario would be a hysterectomy, but I’m not dwelling on that.

This is all a mystery. I have no answers, and am learning to be ok with saying “I don’t know” when thinking about what God is doing in all of this waiting and risks. I think that may be the most faith-filled answer after all–the heart that is ok with mystery is at rest and ready to receive whatever God says. I think that’s what He values more than pat, ready answers.

The Cry of the Dreamer

I AM tired of planning and toiling

In the crowded hives of men,

Heart-weary of building and spoiling,

And spoiling and building again,

And I long for the dear old river,

Where I dreamed my youth away;

For a dreamer lives forever,

And a toiler dies in a day.

I am sick of the showy seeming,

Of life that is half a lie;

Of the faces lined with scheming

In the throng that hurries by;

From the sleepless thought’s endeavor

I would go where the children play;

For a dreamer lives forever,

And a thinker dies in a day.

I can feel no pride, but pity,

For the burdens the rich endure;

There is nothing sweet in the city

But the patient lives of the poor.

Oh, the little hands too skillful,

And the child-mind choked with weeds!

The daughter’s heart grown willful

And the father’s heart that bleeds!

No! no! from the street’s rude bustle,

From trophies of mart and stage,

I would fly to the wood’s low rustle

And the meadows’ kindly page.

Let me dream as of old by the river,

And be loved for my dreams alway;

For a dreamer lives forever,

And the toiler dies in a day.

John Boyle O’Reilly

Mother’s Day came early this year–earlier here than in some other parts of the world. This is on a plaque I got mom…basically because, well, I need it as much as my mother.

• Sing
• Smile at strangers
• Keep learning
• Notice kindness
• Eat ice cream
• Hope
• Count your blessings
• Laugh
• Love
• Love some more

Now if I can only remember half the list…

The sticky note has been on my desk for 4 yrs. It is faded and discolored, creased at the corners, and has wax spilled over it. It was what I believed to be God’s word to me during the wearisome days of pushing words out of a pen. Habbakuk 2:2&3:

Write the vision and engrave it so plainly upon tablets that everyone who passes may be able to read it easily and quickly as he (she) hastens by.

For the vision is yet for an appointed time, and it hastens to the fulfilment; it will not deceive or disappoint. Though it tarry, wait earnestly for it: because it will surely come, it will not be behind on its appointed day.

It’s time to throw away that piece of ragged paper. That chapter of my life is past. This is what the new sticky note says, written in happy pink ink:

I will open rivers in desolate heights,

And fountains in the midst of valleys,

I will make the wilderness a pool of water

And the dry land springs of water. –God

He tells me He will do impossible things—not just one but several. I can’t wait!

I was heading out the shopping centre car park and stopped to let Eamon and Nora cross in front of me. They are good friends of ours, and important, appreciated members of the community–he is a police, and she a nurse at the hospital. He didn’t walk across but came to my window and informed me that a back tyre was soft. He said it’s ok enough to drive to the nearest petrol station. I thanked him (I rarely check my tyres because dad always does, but he’d been gone) and drove gingerly to the station–but their air hose was broken.

Thankfully, I had grabbed a mobile phone before leaving (I’m still holding out on buying one for myself; I don’t want to bother with it) and called dad who I’d just seen in the same shopping centre I’d left. Told him my perdicament, and he said to come back to his vehicle. So I drove carefully and prayerfully again, took his van, and left my flat tyred car with him and found a parking space at the dentist–all  of this15 min. before the appt.

Even though I feel alone sometimes, I loved this reminder that I do travel with/live with angels. I am protected and looked-out-for and loved, not just by people but by the Living God, and for this I am stupendously grateful.