Three Cheers for the "Cane Gang"

Sometimes our experiences bring us face to face with our misconceptions.

Here's one example. When you see a man or woman with a cane or walker, what's the first thought that pops into your mind? Do you pity them? Do you begrudge their slow pace? Do you wonder why it's worth their effort to venture out?

I've always had a certain amount of compassion for our senior brothers and sisters and those with disabilities. Maybe the 2003 car crash that broke my neck, causing me to use a walker for a while, contributed to this mindset. But the last few weeks have heightened my awareness and challenged my thinking.

I was blessed to have a hip replacement three weeks ago. I'm doing well, having hurdled a few bumps in the road and being the recipient of many kindnesses along the way. (Thank you to those who prayed, sent cards, brought meals, and helped in a hundred other ways! I couldn't have managed without you.) Even so, being a member of the "cane gang" is not for the faint of heart.

My brother-in-law first coined the family phrase when my great aunts and uncles gathered at my parents' home for Christmas in the 1980s, bringing their canes with them (which doubled as crooks for little-boy shepherds during the annual Christmas play!).

I'm learning that using a cane is not as easy as it looks . . . walking, climbing and descending stairs, getting in and out of bed, taking a shower, navigating the car. Using a walker can be cumbersome. Then there's the grabber, the sock-aid, the long-handled shoe-horn, the nightlights, and the grab bars, to name a few. 

I'm also learning that every one of those aids brings more independence and more freedom. 

My neighbor inspires me. He doesn't see himself as "confined to a wheelchair." Instead, his chair has allowed him to "take a walk," hold a meaningful job, live independently, and contribute to our community in significant ways. 

In a few weeks, I hope to pack up my walker and put away my cane. Yet, I will have more appreciation for those who require the use of aids. Let's not pity them or become impatient, but cheer them on. They have had to come face to face with the disappointment and loss of youth and agility and are finding ways to preserve their independence and keep their stabilizing routines. A smile, a respectful greeting, a listening ear, and perhaps a helping hand will go a long way toward helping them see their value in a hurried culture that seldom has time.

Three cheers for the Cane Gang!

Time to Move On?

"Whatever God has called you to go through in His providence, there is always hope."

"It's okay to be marked by the past but not okay to be controlled by it."

"If the past has a grip on you, is it time to move on?"

The pastor had my attention. Seemed to me I'd overcome many fears from the past. Or at least, with God's help, found the courage to do what needed to be done in spite of my demons. Like drive over 600 miles to Indiana to take my daughter to college and then drive home alone.

Our car after the crash in 2003

I'm not sure a person ever quite gets over the panic, the stress, and the trepidation that follows trauma. Nearly sixteen years after breaking my neck in a turnpike pile-up,* I'm relatively calm about driving in good conditions (well, most days), but the fear of fog, slippery roads, heavy rain, and snow still ties me up in knots. I have friends who choose not to drive (or ride) on the freeway at all. I understand. I know firsthand what can happen.

I can manage the necessary visits to see my family (trips to see my daughters and the grandboys and even to visit my late husband's family), but to plan an outing (i.e. road trip) that isn't really necessary still makes me a little nervous--even in good weather. It almost seems irresponsible to me. And that's where the speaker's comments challenged my thinking.

Just a few weeks ago, I booked a bus trip to see the Philadelphia Flower Show with my dad. A big step for me. The next day though, I again found myself wringing my hands with regret. What if something happens? My daughters need me, especially the youngest. I don't have to do this. The risk suddenly loomed large in my mind. Too large.

Perhaps my what ifs reveal fear and lack of trust. And, I might add, a desire for a little control. Yet God has been gentle and patient with me and, little by little, has been teaching me to walk according to His truth in an area that has been challenging. I'm meditating more on God's sovereign, yet gracious, control in all things . . . and the truth of Jesus' words in Matthew 6:27: "And which of you by being anxious can add a single hour to his span of life?" God will lovingly complete the good work He began in my children's lives when I'm here and when I'm not (Philippians 1:6). I want to make responsible decisions, yes . . . yet step by tiny step, I'm gradually experiencing more freedom in "moving on" and letting go of stubborn, even unreasonable, fear.

What about you? No matter what your past looks like, I trust these three thoughts will bring you closer to a God whose promises never expire and whose presence always brings hope.

"If the past has a grip on you, is it time to move on?"

"It's okay to be marked by the past but not okay to be controlled by it."

"Whatever God has called you to go through in His providence, there is always hope."

To read the story. Click HERE.

Last two photos: bing.com/images/free to use

Three Years

Armed with a pocket full of Kleenex, I walked up the hill to the Clarks Green Cemetery for the first time this spring. A delightful walk despite the traffic in the late afternoon. The stimulating fragrances of flowering trees, bushes, and lilacs surrounded me as I made my way up and down the hills between the markers, and as always, found myself stooping to read a few of the names and dates of those who have passed on.

I always save Barry's section until last. As the stone came into view, tears stung my eyes. There's something about that first look in the spring that floods my heart with the reality and finality of his death. I settled myself on the ground and cleaned the pine needles and grass clippings off the base. So much has happened in three years. As I wiped my eyes, I realized that I miss him in a different way than when crushing grief nearly swallowed me up and I wondered how I would go on without him. 

Back then I wished he could've helped Elisabeth with her college decisions. I wished he could've dialogued with all the girls and answered their questions. I wished he could've played his role as "Grandpa" to our grandsons, one of whom he never met. I wished he could've weighed in on so many decisions I had to make without him, decisions about the house, a car, our finances. He always seemed to know what to do.

Looking back, I see God's grace standing out bold on the calendar pages of the past 36 months. We made it . . . all this time. But that doesn't mean we didn't feel the ache in our hearts. And now I grieve for him in additional ways. I long for his comfortable companionship and the balance he brought to my life. I miss making his favorite dinner, hearing about his many ventures, and planning this year's garden together.  How often have I wanted to ask his thoughts about my writing and speaking? "Does this make sense? Is this topic relevant? Do these ideas sound okay? What's missing?" 

I feel for our girls . . . as each of them is in a different place now. They would benefit from his knowledge and wisdom - on education, relationships, gardening, parenting, and on and on. We often find ourselves saying, "What would Dad say?" It helps . . . a little.

Before I rose to walk home, I traced my finger over the words under his name: "Life-long Learner; Loved God and Others." Always for the other guy, that's just the kind of man he was! And somehow I gather up the courage to move ahead and "run with perseverance the race marked out for me," grateful for God's new measure of grace every single day.

I love you, Barry. We miss you.

Remembering Grace

Fifteen years. One hundred eighty months. Seven hundred eighty weeks. A long time, and yet in some ways, it seems like our family's car crash on the Pennsylvania Turnpike happened yesterday.

Today, fifteen years from April 5, 2003, I want to take time to remember.

Our Toyota Camry

"Remembering the crash site reminds me of an old Sunday school lesson. An angry king sent a great army by night to surround a prophet's residence. At dawn's light, overwhelming panic seized the prophet's servant when he saw the innumerable number of enemy troops, horses, and chariots surrounding them. But the prophet stayed calm and unafraid. When God opened the servant's eyes, he saw the hills full of horses and chariots of fire all around--the army of the Lord. They had been surrounded by God's protection the whole time [2 Kings 6].

"Words cannot fully describe the frenzied scene of the pile-up on the turnpike. Like Elisha's servant, we found ourselves surrounded. Surrounded by an army of charred and twisted vehicles, shattered glass, and broken bodies. Overwhelming distress and fear seized both victims and responders alike. 

"Looking back, I have to believe we were also surrounded by God's army--an army of grace.* The fading fog. A young woman named Bethan who called us back to the scene. The lady who sat with us. The offer of a cell phone. The rugby team. The medical personnel. Grace-givers every step of the way. And the promise of God's presence in the midst of it all" (Penned Without Ink,** pages 10-11).

Sarah and Elisabeth, age 5

God's grace continued with us . . . through uncertain hospital stays, through months of grueling recovery and rehab, through the uncomfortable adjustments once we again lived under the same roof, through the job and financial challenges, and through the lingering limitations that followed us. God's ever-present guidance, even when we couldn't see Him, has brought us to a wider place, a place where we can look back with gratefulness to Him for taking care of us every step of the way.

Today is also a day to express our thanks to all who stood by with loving hearts and helping hands. Thank you for praying, for supplying meals, for giving us rides to therapy, for offering the proceeds of your garage sales, for helping with yard work and minor repairs, for sending cards and notes, and for your smiles and hugs of support. 

Through all these years, our family has been blessed beyond measure. Every day is a gift. Every challenge, still an opportunity to trust in a God who will never leave or forsake us (Hebrews 13:5). Life isn't perfect for any of us. But today, we can choose to remember grace. God's grace.

It's always enough (2 Corinthians 12:9-10).

*Grace: the divine influence upon the heart and its reflection in the life; benefit, favor, gift (from Strong's Concordance)

**Read our story HERE.

Barry and Sarah, finally home

Ready for Anything? When Life Re-defines You - #1

How can you prepare for the unexpected? What do you do when the familiar suddenly becomes unfamiliar and illness, loss, or disaster turn your world upside down? And where’s the balance between trusting God to write your story and taking steps now to be prepared when the unforeseen happens?

These were some of the questions we talked about in my workshop at the LYFE (Living Your Faith Everyday) Women's Conference the first two weekends in June on the campus of Clarks Summit University. It took courage for the ladies to tackle this topic. However, they came away with some helpful strategies to become better prepared.

June 2003 - Notice my red tote bag.

I thought I'd re-cap what we learned together in a few blog posts . . . abbreviated to be sure . . . yet with my prayer that they will encourage both men and women to take some proactive steps with confidence rather than fear.

After our family's car crash in 2003, my surgeon told me very firmly that as long as I wore the halo that stabilized my broken neck, I must have the red tote bag he provided with me at all times. Why? Inside were a couple of essential tools. “Just in case you run into trouble,” he said, “you will have the tools necessary to fix or remove your halo.” I needed to be equipped, prepared . . . ready for anything that might happen.

Think of the following suggestions as tools of preparation essential to be ready for a crisis of any kind. To be prepared, we can't be haphazard, we need a plan.

STRATEGY # 1 - Examine your relationship with God.

"What is your life? For you are a mist that appears for a little time and then vanishes away" (James 4:14). We may think a 20-year-old has more time left on earth than a senior citizen. Not necessarily. One minute we're driving home, the next we may find ourselves in an ambulance. One day life seems "normal" and the next we get that phone call. Humanly speaking, every day is fragile.

Are you ready for the end of life? Are you prepared? Christ offers what every person needs most: forgiveness. "For the wages which sin pays is death, but the [bountiful] free gift of God is eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord" (Romans 6:23, AMP). And then consistent times of Bible reading and prayer bring stability and hope all the time but especially in seasons of trial. 

Strategy # 2 - I brought this pillow with me to the conference, one our youngest daughter made for her daddy when she was little. She picked out fabric she thought he would like and painstakingly sewed it together with her little-girl stitches. Barry would put this around his neck and be reminded of how much she loved him. This represents our second strategy: Check your relationships with others.

How are you getting along with the people God has placed into your life? If something should happen to them or to you, would there be regrets? Healthy relationships are characterized by forgiveness and grace balanced with appropriate boundaries.

But interactions can be tricky. Perhaps that's why Paul instructed, Do your part to "live peaceably with all" (Romans 12:18). Even if true reconciliation isn't possible, we still choose our response. So, let's express love and appreciation now, while we can, for our parents, spouses, children, siblings, and friends.

When asked to name the greatest commandment, Jesus summed it up this way: love God and love others (Matthew 22:36-40). When we consider the topic of readiness, these two elements rise to the top.

Perhaps it's simplistic to think we can be ready for anything that might happen. Yet, taking time to evaluate our life stories in these areas helps us distinguish between what's urgent and what's truly important.

How ready are you?

*Last photo from bing.com/images

My Story, God's Story, Your Story

On April 5, 2003, sudden dense fog dropped out of the sky as our family headed east on the PA Turnpike. Within a matter of minutes, twenty-three cars piled up in a fiery crash that claimed the lives of four people, two of them little children. In that brief moment of time, our lives were forever changed.

Today, over 13 years later, I want to invite YOU to read our story – a personal, realistic story of trauma, uncertainty, and life-long limitations, but also of quiet miracles and celebrations. This is a story of hope . . . We all need hope don’t we? Especially when we feel the crushing blow of overwhelming events out of our control . . . when we experience pain, loss, and disappointment. Our circumstances may differ, yet deep beneath the surface of the particulars lie universal emotions that can plague us all. Even then, we have hope because of God's faithfulness. Penned Without Ink showcases God's faithfulness when my husband sustained a traumatic brain injury and my neck was broken.

This is more than just our family’s story, however. Interwoven within its pages is God’s story – biblical principles, stories, and promises from God’s Word – which encouraged us then and give us perspective now. We’ll kneel beside Job’s wife as she wailed with grief over losing her ten precious children all in one day. We’ll hold our breath with Mary, Martha, and the mourners as Jesus cried, “Lazarus, Come forth.” We’ll stand in the upper room with Thomas as he grappled with Jesus’ words, “Blessed are they who have not seen and yet have believed.” And we’ll lean over the old apostle John’s shoulder as he writes his epic work about heaven. 

The book has three elements: my story, God’s story – And then scattered throughout the book are opportunities for you to pause and reflect on YOUR life story . . . penned without ink (2 Corinthians 3:2, 3). This is where the promises of God become personal and the foundation of trust is built, trust in a faithful God who writes our stories with purpose. This is where we choose to remain the victim or become the victor. This is where we pair our emotions with truth. It’s a place of gentle challenge to finish strong and run the race marked out for us with perseverance.

If I had to summarize the theme of the book, it would be found in 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.”

Many of you played a significant role in our story. We will always remember your prayers, cards, meals, rides to therapy, and how you encouraged us and our families as we struggled to recover. THANK YOU! My prayer is that our story will be a blessing to you and bring you hope as you trust in God – no matter what happens.

Don't Miss It:

View the book trailer here (1:06).

A picture is worth a thousand words. I've posted photos that correlate with the Penned Without Ink story. Look under the PHOTOS tab on this site. They'll deepen your understanding of the story. 

Saturday, November 5th: Signing and launch at Duffy's Coffee House, 306 South State Street, Clarks Summit, PA 18411. On this day, a percentage of the book sale proceeds and any extra donations will go to the Ronald McDonald House in Scranton, PA. We'll have a good time, have some giveaways on hand, and you'll have the opportunity to meet some of the "characters" in the book. Hope to see you there!

Your Life Story . . . Penned Without Ink

Story.

Life story.

Your life story.

We each have a story. In fact, we each are a story - penned without ink - known and read by the people around us. While the main characters wander in and out of our paragraphs, the plot thickens with tension and misgivings and relaxes with humor and celebration. We all hope for a satisfying conclusion.

So, what's going on in the current chapter of your story? In what season of life do you find yourself? Does the fall represent a new beginning as flexible summer days give way to predictable routines? Are you looking forward to new opportunities or do you find yourself grappling with loss and grief? What's unique about this time in your life - both the pros and the cons?

Today marks the first day of a brand new chapter for me. 

My youngest is beginning a new chapter in her life, too . . . on a college campus. Which means . . . my house is a little too quiet, a little too empty, a little too solitary. Elisabeth's in a healthy environment where she will learn far more than if she were home. But that ache in my heart, as I left the flat farmlands of the mid-west, made the roadway blurry as I wiped away the tears for an hour after crossing the Pennsylvania state line yesterday.

Perhaps, in the transitions of life we experience both gains and losses. In a day-to-day sense, I have lost my daughter's companionship yet have gained the freedom to come and go, serve and write as seems best to me. Just the opposite of when we welcomed our girls into the world. We gained the wonderful privilege of parenthood and relinquished a few freedoms in the process.

Whatever this new chapter holds for me, I want to do it well. Don't you feel the same way? My friend, Gail, sent a short note, which read, "I'm praying your sense of hearing will be so sharpened that you'll hear God's presence in the quiet." Ironically, I have been praying a similar prayer the last few days.

 

Wherever we find ourselves in our life stories, let's remember God's faithful presence . . . in our joys, in our sorrows, and in our transitions. We take the promises of God with us into each new chapter and into each new day. 

Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you. 

The Lord is my helper; I will not be afraid. 

Hebrews 13:5, 6

Penned Without Ink: Trusting God to Write Your Story  

Now available on Amazon.com

The Memory of a Man

2012

One year.

The events of May 15, 2015 changed my life and the lives of many others forever. It's been a year since my husband, Barry, passed away. 

2014 Birthday

A year of tears, loneliness, and loss. A year of uncertainty mixed with grit and determination. A year of learning about cars, home repairs, finances, health insurance, and legal matters. A year of trying to think of what he might decide . . . and of learning about myself . . . without the man who would do anything for me.

It's also been a year filled with grace. A year of experiencing God's loving-kindness and mercy day after day, night after night. Even through the tears. Even when I paced the floor wondering what to do. Even when one more thing went wrong. God's grace often showed up in the form of new friends and old, who came along side at just the right time to give counsel, coach me through home projects, and offer wisdom about everything from tax questions to gardening. 

Barry with his siblings

So, how does one commemorate a life? What would you do? On Friday, I found our local Red Cross and gave blood. It seemed fitting in light of our car accident in 2003 when someone else's life-giving blood saved Barry's life. Our family is spending the weekend together, the girls cutting squares from Barry's shirts to make quilts. Good memories mingled with masculine patterns and the hum of sewing machines somehow seem comforting. 

Mexico in 2002

The words of Steve Green's song have played themselves over and over in my mind during these months: "May all who come behind us find us faithful." When a person passes on, everything is left behind. I've done my share of sorting Barry's "everything" over the last year. And as I've sifted through boxes and files and papers and drawers, I've found him faithful. Faithful to God. Faithful to me. Faithful to our girls.  A wonderful legacy. 

Memory Quilt, May 15, 2016

So, today as we remember Barry, I pray we will be faithful . . . in the little things and in the big things . . . and that we will run with perseverance the race marked out for us (Hebrews 12:2). 

The Ultimate Trade-off

I've been anticipating the holidays coming up. The first Christmas without the man who, year after year, came huffing and puffing down the stairs and over to the tree on Christmas Eve, huffing and puffing because of all the "heavy" gifts he carried down for me. When the girls were little, they squealed with delight. The tradition continued all the way up until 2014. Who would have dreamed this Christmas would be different? We're already feeling the loss.

My wandering thoughts have also reflected on what Christmas meant for Baby Jesus. His represents the greatest loss of all, really. The reality of this came together for me at the mall . . . 

bing.com

Sleigh bells jingled in the background, and lights twinkled as I waited at the end of a long line of strangers to exchange my cash for my daughter’s Christmas gift. In a limited sense, I became poorer so she could become richer. When we give a gift, we sacrifice money—and ultimately time. Yet my transaction didn’t make me truly “poor” or make her truly “rich.”

But what if our family left our suburban home with only the clothes on our backs? What if we left our cars in the garage, our furniture, our technology, our clothes, our freezer full of food, our education, our jobs, our children’s school, and all that we have and do. And what if a refugee family from a third-world country moved in and suddenly acquired all we left behind . . . while we took up their life of hand-to-mouth poverty? We, who had been rich, for their sakes would become poor that they might gain our riches.

What if a billionaire traded places with the poorest of peasants? 

What if the Son of God became poor for earthlings like us?

Jesus willingly embraced the ultimate poverty. He left His Father and all that encompasses the celestial sphere to become a helpless infant. He took on human limitations. The hand that formed the heavens with the moon and the stars, wrapped themselves around a teenage girl’s finger as she lovingly swaddled Him in homespun strips of cloth. He became utterly dependent on the people He created—for milk, for shelter, for protection. Although He was the Word from the beginning, He had to learn to talk. Taking on humanity demonstrated no small sacrifice. He traded all of heaven’s glory for our sakes so that we could acquire all He left behind.

bing.com

We celebrate Christmas because a Savior came to provide eternal life. We sing carols about joy, celebrate with candlelight services, and re-enact the Nativity. We rejoice in the benefits of His grace.

But Jesus experienced unfathomable loss. Loss for a sinful people who may take the incarnation for granted. And if becoming a baby wasn’t humbling enough, He gave up His life as the ultimate sacrifice. For our sakes—all because He loves us.

This Christmas, l hope we will remember God’ unspeakable gift. It’s through His poverty we become truly rich.

Joy to the world!

 For you know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, that though He was rich, yet for your sake He became poor, that you through His poverty might become rich (2 Corinthians 8:9 NKJV).

 Reprinted, in part, from Christian Devotions.