DAY 6

(I started writing this yesterday.) Today is actually Day 7. (aka One Week post op.) (Content is still applicable.) Ooops, now it's Day 8. I suck at timely reporting.

One week ago today, I was obsessing about the procedure major, traumatic operation I'd be having the following morning. So many burning, obsessive thoughts invading my usual zen-like mind, absolutely ruining what could've been a chilled, idyllic summer evening.

Where any of those fears warranted? That's the question. 

I'm here to discuss that right now, (six seven eight days post op), bearing in mind I'm under the influence of Cream Soda, Sherry's oatmeal cookies and Tramadol. 

Q1. Do I really need to bring all this medical equipment (walker, crutches, cane, long-armed grabber thingy, long-handled shoe horn, large and cumbersome firm/hard pillow, comfortable clothes to work out in, supportive shoes and a small bag of personal things) to the hospital, when I'm admitted at 6 am? The logistics of this? Pack it all into my lil red wagon? Max is just gonna drop me off at the curb, then head back into morning rush hour traffic ... that's the plan. Is he going to have to find parking, then follow me in and around the hospital with all these awkward accessories? 

Reflection1: Why oh why were all those things on the list? So much time labeling everything, getting it down to my vehicle the night before, hauling it all into admitting, then again into the Day Surgery waiting area, then again into the pre-op area. After that, it was placed under my gurney, rolled into the operating room, then rolled into the recovery room. After that, it was moved again, into my semi private room where it took up all the corner and window sill space, never to be touched or moved again until Max came to pick me up on Friday afternoon. It took two trips to get me, with my non-working leg, and all that crap out to the car. 

Other than my seven minute physio session where I used the walker-with-two-wheels to try walking for the first (and only) time, NONE OF THE OTHER EQUIPMENT WAS EVER REFFERED TO OR TOUCHED. 

So. In retrospect, I should've talked to someone in advance to confirm what was really expected. Just because the 45 page booklet and 27 pdfs have a list doesn't mean you actually need to study for that part of the exam.

Q2. Intravenous procedure. Getting that IV. Apprehensive and worried. I had minor surgery in January where I was put under a general anesthetic. The junior nurse ("everyone has to learn on someone") made an absolute mess of the back of my right hand with her botched attempts at getting me started on IV fluids. Like, crazy, man. Bruising and bleeding like it'd been run over by a bulldozer. So the senior nurse came in, WITH A VEIN FINDER (3rd best invention ever) and found a 'juicy one' on the outside of my forearm, close to my elbow. She showed me how perfect it was, then proceeded to stick her big fat needle in it with no problem at all. One shove and she was in. 

Reflection 2: I was fretting about the whole intravenous thing for the hip surgery, for weeks in advance, UNECCESSARILY, it turns out. When I suggested (to the pre-op nurse) that using a vein finder to detect a vein over here (I pointed) might be the best way to get an IV started, she called the IV expert, who agreed with me (eventually) and used the vein highlighter to find it (apparently it's very deep, and invisible to the naked eye). I almost didn't feel her stick the needle in. 

They may be the experts, but you know the secrets your body holds. 

Q3. How many boxes of chocolates and painted rocks should I bring as Thank You gifts to the folks who care for me at UBC? Four rocks? Two larger boxes of Purdy's and two personal size? How many nurses will be directly touching me? Should I bring extras, just in case? When will I hand them out? At the start of their shift? At the end? 

Reflection 3: WHY WAS I OBSESSED WITH THIS? Haha. OY. I had too much and not enough. I only gave out one rock (and a small box of chocolates) (to a very awesome pre-op nurse who prepped me for surgery. She's recently divorced and has a son named Max as well.) Other than that? I gave larger boxes to nurse teams at the end of their shifts, whether I felt the service was good or not. :) 

In retrospect, there's nothing wrong with being appreciative. I tip servers, pedicurists, stylists, massage therapists... why not nurses as well?

Q4. How can I manage to stay an extra night or two in the hospital? I don't have a partner at home, loving me enough to help me with the physical/intimate parts of recovery. I don't want my kids feeling pressure to be more than simply my sons. I would rather pay for additional care in a hospital than put Clint and Max into awkward situations. 

Reflection 4: These were legit concerns. I was so scared to go home. I was sittin on that bed, crying, feeling woefully ill-equipped to be discharged, and no one was having none of it. Because I could walk across the hospital room, I was good to go. I guess compared to frail 90 year olds, I looked robust, resourceful, resilient. I felt none of those things. 

One week later, it appears I survived it all.  My boys were gentle and tender and enough and ignored me unless I requested help. Together we figured out the practical stuff, on my own I tackled the bathroom stuff, and I have friends who're filling in the gaps. I'm used to not-talking for hours (sometimes days) at a time. Having my boys around was a good option for me, because they never felt the need to fill dead air space with polite/stupid/gossipy conversation. Clint brought his computer to work or game his was through the weekend. 

Sexiest bathroom, ever

Fear of the unknown is The Worst. I will say though, that you cannot do this by yourself. (Well, maybe you can. But please don't.) If you're single and/or live alone, plan in advance to have support. Daily support for the first 4 days for sure. You won't die or anything if you don't have it, but having someone in your space when you're hurting and slow, allows your mind to take a break from having the think about All the Things. 

Things I'm glad I prepared for:

1. This probably goes without saying, but I'm happy my fridge has frozen meals in it. Some I made myself (gasp) others were supplied by Friends Who Cook Delicious Things. Other than avocadoes, milk, lettuce and Caramilk bars, I'm good for two weeks at least. 

2. When the logistics were starting to overwhelm me a month ago, I changed my mindset. This wasn't a medical situation, it was a Project Management opportunity. (My specialty, if I say so myself.) I created categories, made lists, assigned timelines, communicated needs, confirmed participation, checked boxes. And felt a new level of peace. 

3. Speaking of peace, I had to come to terms with FOMO. Fear of Missing Out of Summer 2025. I countdown to this season every September - so the grief is real. I know that everyone else will be doing All The Summer Things and some of them will post their happiness onto social media. I needed to deal with it, or I'd be a bitter hag by the end of the month. So I packed as much summer as I could into the first two weeks of July and will pick up that baton again sometime in August. 

4. I'm glad I created a beautiful space to recover, on my deck. If you're gonna be housebound for weeks, plan in advance to have a place to sit where you feel lucky and blessed. 

5. Feeling so rich that I prepared in advance, a treat to look forward to. I did two things: First was go on a Used Bookstore Crawl with my bookclub to get a stack of novels to read. And second, my gift to myself is a BritBox subscription. 

6. The 24 hours before surgery was a pampering day for me. I knew my body was going to be cut open, chopped up and hammered soundly on Thursday, so I wanted to be touched respectfully and gently on Wednesday. I booked appointments for a pedicure (and foot massage), a facial (including eye brow tinting and shaping), an RMT session (back, shoulder massage) and a hair appointment (wash, dry, and french braid - including a scalp massage). Completely indulgent and selfish. 

7. I typically have Beata come in twice a month for two hours to deep clean my place. During this summer? We increased that to every week. No regrets. Not a single one. My door is on a revolving hinge with friends popping in every day. Last thing I need to obsess about is how sanitized the main bathroom is. 

8. Hiring a private nurse was my birthday gift to myself. 

Things I'm thankful for:

1. THIS. Ordered it tonight. SOMETHING that'll hold my leg and foot straight so it doesn't 'flop' to the side and ruin everything when I'm sleeping. 

2. Hardboiled eggs

3. Cream Soda

4. Baskets

5. Sunlit rooms

6. Friends who water (and say affirming things to your) plants. (I'll get a pic of you next time, Patricia)

7. Scottish accents. 

8. I sat outside for the first time today. Fresh air and warm breezes are just the best. 

9. The swollen lump (it's almost it's own appendage) of incision flesh has turned from black to blue. 

10. Answered prayers, big and small. I'm triply thankful for all the friends who've let me know they're praying for me. I am so grateful.

11. Friends who bring casseroles in a homemade casserole carrier... :)

11. Thanks to Clint, Max, Sherry, Beata, Kim, and Jenn who've been my carers this week. Love you all xo

Hip News

 On Thursday July 17, at 8:40 am I had my original, factory-installed right hip replaced with a shiny new titanium/porcelain one. Well, I'm assuming it's shiny. I haven't actually seen it. But porcelain and titanium sound like they would be glossy and gleaming, yes? I guess I could've asked to see it while I was in the operating room waiting for the anesthesia to kick in. 

But to be honest, while I was in the OR I was mostly obsessed with not looking at the tools they were going to use, and most definitely not looking for the rotisserie that Steve Carrel mentions when he talks about his hip replacement.  

When Max picked me up from UBC Hospital the following afternoon, he wondered if I'd asked to keep my old one. As, like, a souvenir. For show and tell. Or for a crafty artsy thing; like windchimes? Or earrings.

It didn't occur to me. 

Anyway, back to the beginning. I started having issues with my hip in 2010, but at the time I didn't know it was a hip thing. It felt like a groin pull. Which sounds like a cool injury caused by some aggressive athletic endeavor. So well-meaning friends offered non-medical advice (deep tissue laser treatment, massage therapy, physio etc) that was mostly unhelpful.

Finally, 14 years later, in Spring 2024, I asked my doctor if I could have xrays taken of the entire area. Turned out it wasn't a sexy groin pull. 

My friend, Donna, was having her (second) hip replaced that June (2024) and highly recommended the surgeon who was doing hers. I assumed there would be a two or three year wait list, so I arranged for my GP to forward my xrays and files to the Complex Joint Clint at VGH/UBC. They called me a few days later and were ready to book my surgery for summer 2024. 

With Daryl undergoing chemo for Stage 4 lymphoma and Jim booked for prostrate cancer surgery that summer it was absolutely not an option for me to get sliced and diced as well.  So I paused the whole project.

I called the Joint Clinic again, in February 2025 and made an appointment to see the surgeon six weeks later. He (Dr. Greidanus) showed me how I was bone-on-bone in that joint and said was an excellent candidate for replacement. I wasn't wasting his time. Or being a baby about discomfort. I cried as he affirmed the amount of pain I'd been experiencing.

I got a call in May, asking if I'd like to have the surgery in June (but because of a weekend with my girls already planned for the first weekend in July, I asked for a mid-July date).

I'm only writing this all down, to let you know, IF YOU NEED YOUR HIP OR KNEE REPLACED, please get your GP to send your xrays to: The Complex Joint Clinic at UBC Hospital, Vancouver. These surgeons teach joint replacement to med students training to become doctors. And the wait time is not a year or two. It's quick like a fox. 

I am currently three days post op and struggling with emotions and expectations. (Haha. Sounds like any other normal day in my life these past 18 months.) I didn't think about the pain levels in advance so sometimes the hurt just catches my breath, but not the fun 'he took my breath away' kind of situation. The incision itself burns like a branding rod has seared my skin (ice feels so good on my bum) and the rest of my leg feels swollen and dead. I look at it, (my leg) while lying on my bed, and will it to move, but on it's own it's pretty useless. Clint has been lifting and positioning it for me when I sit on the couch (he carefully lifts it onto the ottoman) or get into bed (he swings it up and over, very gently.) That's something you can't really prepare for... having an adult son tenderly maneuver your red-dyed, written on, bristly, 150 pound, 98 year old right leg. Wasn't he just 3 years old yesterday, happily weed whacking thistles along the side of Billie's Country with his Bups?

Nothing like physical trauma to get you thinking about your past. And your future.  And reconsidering all the major life decisions you've ever made. Unless you've got a plan to keep you focused on something other than your owie, recovery is mostly 24 hours of being alone with your thoughts. I predicted I'd want to get lost in a TV series, but surprisingly, nope. Can't seem to care about any characters or their dilemmas. Cook-off shows are too shouty. These are usually my go to for time waste-ing ...But now? Too much fake pressure. (After 5 seasons of Master Chef, I don't think I'll watch the next 5 seasons. Sorry, Gordon Ramsey. I might go back to joining Ewan MacGregor as he travels around the world on his motorcycle. I need to watch kinder, gentler people being in awe of our world.

Right 

Back to being three days post op. What can you expect when it's your turn? They'll send you home WAY before you think you're ready to. I was sitting on the edge of my bed, (after getting up for the first time and walking to the doorway of my hospital room and back again with a walker and a tiny perky cheerful young physiotherapist) sobbing. Seven minutes of physio and she deemed me 'ready for discharge'. A nurse came in right after that and asked how quickly my ride would arrive, it was time to go. 

My backpack was on the windowsill behind me, how was I going to get it, move it?  Underwear? How in the world would I get those on? Using the bathroom? I just felt so alone. It took a LONG while to get myself sorted. When I was dressed and exhausted, an Occupational Therapist came in to see me. "Do you have a shower and commode seat in your bathroom? I see you have a walker. You're all set. You seem to be very resourceful."

Then my nurse came in and gave me some Tylenol and Advil. Told me I was good to go. He could lend me a wheel chair to get to my ride, but someone would have to bring it back up to the ward. My pain had been managed effectively all day, so I probably wouldn't need anything stronger. I reminded him that until that 7 minute physio session, I had not moved my leg in 30 hours. Of course my pain was managed. Nothing hurts if you lie very, very still. Anyway, I asked for something stronger for the 3 hour drive home and the long walk down my condo's hallway. And requested a prescription for something to take the edge off if I needed it. He gave me three days worth of Tramadol but suggested I try not to use it. 

I am using it. 

Having a ten inch incision that goes through muscle and tendons and is spread wide open so that your old hip can be cut out with a saw before hammering and screwing in a new joint HURTS LIKE HELL. One member of the surgical team came in to sign off and said "hip replacement surgeons need the strength of Thor to hammer that new appliance into place. It's a good thing you're asleep when he pounded yours in. But good news, he didn't break your femur. You've got strong bones." "Also you probably shouldn't watch hip replacement surgeries on Youtube."

Noted. 

I will not do that. 

DAY 4

It's Monday morning, my new hip has been in my body for four days. I suppose we're getting used to each other, although I'm still a bit traumatized by the violent way it entered me. The incision site still burns, burns, burns, like a line of fire, like a line of fire... but in general, movement is marginally easier. 

Clint left this morning, early, to go to work, then back to live his real life in Vancouver. So I managed to get my own breakfast (homemade bran muffin - thanks, Julie), glass of apple juice, a banana, pain pills and a couple vitamins. In a few minutes, when those meds kick in, I'll clean up, then do my physio exercises, find an icepack in the freezer, and lower myself onto the hard-as-rock extra cushion (thanks, Donna) onto my couch, (for elevation and to ensure I don't exceed a 90% angle on my body/hip). I'll use a long-handled shoe horn to roll my lowered office chair towards me, (to use as an ottoman) then use the sling to lift and swing my right leg onto it. I'll stuff pillows all around me and being physically exhausted, I'll close my eyes for awhile and think. Mostly about how uncomfortable I am, but thoughts about how blessed I am will percolate up to the surface.

I got out of bed at 9. It's almost 11. TWO hours to wash my face, brush my teeth, put on a dress, have breakfast. (I'm making a note of this now, so I can compare start times in a couple weeks.) It feels weird to have no purpose other than dressing, feeding and caring for one's self. 

Feeling nervous about being alone tonight, I texted Max, asking him if he could come spend the night. He replied in three seconds, "yea, I can." (Insert emotional crying emoji.)

Will end this blog post, first one in 7 months, with a list of things I'm thankful for:

1. Not that I even worried about it for even a second, but I'm thankful the surgery was successful. I assumed it would be. I totally trusted that the surgeon knew what he was doing. He took science courses in school instead of marketing, so he was educated and experienced in all manner of hacksawing and hammering. 

2. I'm grateful for the sacrificial way Clint and Max have been looking after me. From an early morning drop off (be at UBC admitting by 6 am) to a late Friday afternoon pick up (discharged at 4:30 pm to participate in a 3 hour rush-hour-traffic drive back to Langley), to preparing meals and having overnighters in my tiny condo with it's inadequate air conditioning ... I have felt loved and cared for in the most practical of ways. 

3. I've noticed this about myself; when I'm in physical distress, I don't pray. It occurred to me yesterday that I hadn't prayed for myself since last Wednesday. Don't know why? Just haven't done it. I'm usually in constant conversation with God, but I guess pain/discomfort/fears override all normal activities. So I'm thankful, thankful, thankful, for all the messages from friends and family who let me know they've been praying for me. I am a lucky woman to be surrounded by so many people who care deeply. 

4. My condo is overflowing with medical equipment and it all looks ugly. But I'm so glad it's here. Thank you to friends who've been mauled by surgeons before me and shared their walkers, commodes, ice machines, and handy doodads. I'll be so happy to give every single stinkin piece back. 

5. Meals. The way to my heart. Haha. Thanks to friends who've dropped off frozen soups (my love language), stews, muffins, turkey pies, lasagna ... my fridge and heart are overflowing. And thanks, Wendy G for the Skip the Dishes coupon. I'm gonna use it on Thursday. 

6. Neighbours. Condo lyfe is mighty fine. I hope no one moves away. It feels good to have someone right across the hall, or up a flight of stairs who can pop in a pinch. I predict it'll be very pinchy in the coming days.

7. Happy news. During this season of sadness (5 deaths in the past 6 weeks; people I care about lost someone they loved deeply. Plus a close friend's husband had a massive stroke, ending up being on life support for three weeks. And another friend's farm had a devastating fire that burnt their barns to the ground. Plus I had shingles (again!) and unrelated, I needed two shots of cortisone deep into the joints of my right shoulder...) May/June were not kind months. So I'm thankful for HAPPY NEWS... Drew and Mackenzie got engaged on Friday July 11 ! I am deliriously happy for them. Having had a glimpse into the tender way they love each other, I am a content momma bear, thrilled they're planning a life together. 

 8. Beata, the angel who cleans my bathrooms and washes my floors, was here today to help with do some tidying and tell me a story. Her sister-in-law just had joint replacement surgery on Friday in Poland. She went home on Sunday and her daughter said, "seeing you're home anyways, can you look after my son? I need a break fore a couple weeks. I'll drop him off in a few hours."  I CAN'T EVEN. I will not complain about my situation ever again. I have it easy compared to others. 

9. I am thankful for summer dresses. Can't imagine putting shorts on over this swollen hip.

10. Grateful for anesthesia. This is arguably the greatest invention of all time.

11. Glad that my place has a second bedroom.

12. Thrilled that it hasn't been stupidly hot these past few days.

13. Peace, knowing that I'm in my Creator's hands

14. Grateful that Day 4 is so much better than Day 3. 

15. Thankful for refrigeration. Ice, too, is such a great invention.

16. Beds. I particularly love mine these days.

17. Wedge pillows. Whoa. Life changing if you have to sleep on your back.

18. Sons who have smiles on their faces when they cook. 

19. Text messages

20. Gently scented hand cream

21. Options

22. Answered prayer

23. In awe of the way bodies heal

24. Memories

25. Photos

26. Tweezers and magnifying mirrors. IYKYK

27. Colours and textures. (Except the ones on my right butt cheek.)

28. French braids

29. 

I guess that's it. I'm most thankful for 28 things right now. 

Here are a few photos that should be interspersed throughout this post, but I'm just gonna lump them here at the end cuz I've just had major surgery. 

Thanks for dropping by. Feel your boobs, love your fam, enjoy your summer.

xo

 

Joy?

  

Despite the fact that the new year doesn't actually begin until the Monday when the kids go back to school, I've tried to get into a rhythm of daily readings right from the get go, on the first of January. Yay me.

Every year I commit to reading through the Bible-in-One-Year. For the last 5 years, I've been re-reading the NLT version. 

This year, just to change things up, I'm giving The Message version a try. So far, so good. I'd recommend it. 

Every year I also choose a daily devotional to read each morning. Last year's inspirational book was Trusting God with Today by Charles Stanley; I recommend it if you're looking for some encouraging words to begin your day with . 

This year, I'm redoing The Songs of Jesus (A Year of Daily Devotions in the Psalms) by Timothy Keller. Last time I did this one was in 2017.  

Not surprisingly, it's still applicable all these years later. 

Originally, I thought I'd commit to reading the new book I purchased this year, but it just made me angry, so I went back to my Library of Tried and True and dug up the Psalms one by Keller.

The one I am angry at? I bought it during the second week of December without looking through it first (my bad). And the more I thought about committing to reading/writing in it, the more indignant I got. 

I have a friend who has a 5 Year Diary beside her bed. Every night before she goes to sleep, she adds a line of two of the day's highlights. I admire her discipline at keeping this up night after night, year after year. This activity forces you to evaluate your day, then distill it down to the most memorable of highlights. What do you want to remember most about this day? 

The added bonus is that while you're writing today's summary, you get to read, on the same page, on the lines above, your thoughts from January 5 of last year. And the year before. 

I'll have to ask her to know for sure, but I have a feeling this type of journaling prevents your days from all running together into a blur of nothingness. 

ANYWAY, this Three Minute Journal of Joy, is a little bit similar EXCEPT THAT IT'S NOT. 

Each page is good for 3 years. I'm fine with that. A three year commitment is easier than 5. BUT...  each day is to be summed it up in ONE WORD.    ONE WORD? The good Lord created 10 million gazillion words and this journal is telling me to choose just one to describe the day? I can tell you right now, that I can't even think of one word to describe just one hour of the day. Every hour could bring an onslaught of new emotions, varied responses, wild happenings or boring nothingness.

Secondly, I'm to record what brought me joy. 

Thirdly, I'm to write down how I spread joy. 

Do you know what this forces you to do? TO THINK ABOUT JOY ALL DAY. Am I feeling it? How come? What caused it? How can I experience more of it? Is it reasonable to expect to feel joyous every single day of your live-long life? Did I spread joy? How would I know if I did? Can you intentionally spread joy? Does someone have to receive it? Or can you leave it just out there, floating, hoping someone catches it? What if you're doing something for someone and hope it makes them feel joy, but it totally doesn't? What if it annoys them? What if they had no feelings about it at all? What would you write down then? 

And since when did JOY become the point of it all?

I've been focused on gratitude. And peace... compassion... and friendship. For the past decade. Really? JOY is going to be my thing for the next three years? No thank you. What's the opposite of joy? I'll do that. 

BESIDES. TINY, WHITE, ALL-CAP FONT on LIGHT ORANGE PAGES? WHO DESIGNED THIS JOURNAL? A 13 year old girl?

So that was my attitude on New Year's Eve.

And then? On New Year's Day I thought of a word that summed up my day; "reflective'. And I thought of two things that made me feel joy. And I thought of a couple things that I'd done that maybe/might/hopefully have caused a few people to feel joy. (Shrugs shoulders. Unless they specifically tell you, "hey thanks for that; it caused me to feel joy", you never really know.) I guess the point is to just Do The Things. And not concern yourself with the results. 

Despite my intentions, I repeated it again on January 2. And January 3. And January 4. 

Today is January 5, and I've been reading various online posts about 'Choosing your Word of the Year'. Most folks who do this, prayerfully choose meaningful words and then they stick to making sure all their activities and thoughts are filtered through that word for the coming12 months. I may have done this in the past? At least I can remember choosing a noble word in January and then forgetting it by the end of the month. (Likely by the end if the week.) Unless you have that word on display in a very prominent part of your home, you have to be super intentional about keeping it in the forefront of your mind. 

With this in mind, I was pondering what my word could/should be this year? Beginnings? Adventure? Curiosity? Trust? Practice? 

And where would I post that word? On my condo door, so I am reminded of it every time I leave? On my bedroom wall? The wall only I can see from my bed? So it's visible and in my face every time I wake up? In my bathroom? What would that even look like? A post it note stuck to a surface with the word JOY scribbled on it? Or should I make it fancy? Using paints and glitter? 

And then, staring me in the face from my spot (sitting at my kitchen island) was this:

It's technically a Christmas decoration, hauled out of storage every year for the past 25 years. It really should be on a fireplace mantle, nestled amongst evergreens and holly berries, but since 2021 it spends a month every year on my kitchen counter.

Without overthinking it (HA!) I'm going to accept that my word for 2025 is JOY. The universe has spoken. This elegant silver reminder will be right here taunting me. So I will be filling in every page of this blasted peach and white journal for the next three years. If I happen to do something that brings you joy, let me know, K? 

Three things I'm thankful for:

1. Yay, I have a word for 2025.

2. Due to a late night obsession to clean something, my craft cupboard, pantry, and games cabinet are all organized. 

3. It felt magical walking under and beside the brightly lit tree trunks at Cultus. It's still Christmas in my home and heart. 

(Are the things I'm thankful for the same things that bring me joy?)

Thanks for reading; feel your boobs, tip generously, don't run red lights, 

xo

New Beginnings

 Happy New Year!

How's it going? We're, uh, 20 hours into 2025... 

So far I've walked 5500 steps. Made a huge batch of soup. Finished off all the raspberry cream chocolates in my condo. Apologized for being insensitive in a (now deleted) Facebook post. Listened to two podcasts (Revisionist History, Season 1, Episodes 1 and 2) by Malcolm Gladwell) with my new noise-cancelling, cordless air pods. (Thank you Max.) Painted a couple rocks with my new paints. (Thank you, Clint.) And postponed washing my hair for ANOTHER day. 

(I will be thanking Drew and Mackenzie for the new lamp to read under when Amazon gets it delivered.) (Yes. Very spoiled this year.) 

In addition to all that, I'm being reflective. Reflective in my thoughts, not my skin. 

Steve sent me this pdf on December 21, and it's been sitting in my inbox, haunting (taunting) me ever since. I started answering the questions last night. Thought I'd post some of my less vulnerable answers here. 

First - the document. Feel free to use it yourself if you have some thinkin to do...

This one's fun:

Things I'm Thankful For (at least 10)...

(Cracks knuckles. Ten? Haha. Hold my beer:)

(Just to be clear, I still don't drink. I'm just using a saying (that was so 5 years ago). I don't think anyone says that anymore.)

1. During a year of so many uncertainties, I'm grateful for the LTD insurance I'd been paying into for such a time as this. All my financial needs were met in 2024. (God probably gets some glory for this as well...)  :)
2. My teensy condo. I walk in my door and breathe deeply; this is home. It's my happy place.
3. A random, but fun, (text) message from God (via someone else) about His ability to use me in the future. 
4. Opportunities to spend time with (and get to know) the new girls in my family during the latter half of this year. <3
5. Jim's cancer journey is over. No trace of it during his last blood test. (I need some emoji's).
6. So glad Hallmark used my suite to film Falling Together. Absolutely loved the close-up look into the entertainment industry. Such an exciting flurry of activity that month. 
7. Book club. Consistently one of my favorite nights of the month. We started our 16th year of reading and discussing books in September... so thankful for writers who write. And readers who like to talk. 
8. Music. This has been a year of much live music. (Not to be confused with Much Music.) Speaking of which, Canada Post, (just before it went on strike) issued two new collectible stamps:

(Yes, I bought a book of them.)

ANYWAYS, from concerts in auditoriums, parks and backyards, to Hymn Sings in old churches and worship events in parking lots, it's been a wonderful year of music. 

9. People; specifically family and friends. So many relationships I'm thankful for. 

10. Unexpected adventures; sand and sun, pools and palms, dinosaurs and dunes, crab catching, wandering down my mom's memory lane, ducks and dots, rocks and walks ... so thankful for them all.

11. Watching a tear-inducing, spectacular, once-in-a-lifetime display of Northern Lights at the lake with Max. 

12. Colours. So glad God created them. 

13. As always, text messages that start with the word "Mom ..."

14. Answered prayer. 

15. Opportunity to pray to Someone who not only cares, but is all powerful and has the ability to answer.

16. Artists. I love scrolling through their work on social media.

17. Actors. Screen-writers. Directors. Producers. Everyone involved in the entertain industry who keeps the content coming. 

18. Fresh air. Clean water. I love them both. Especially when the air is warm and water is cold. How lucky am I to live in a place where both are abundant?

19. Memes that make me think. Or laugh. 

20. Friends who share their wisdom and experience with me. I took a chance asking a couple dozen friends to allow me to ask them (personal) questions. I'd hit a slump with blogging, and needed motivation. SO grateful to the 12 (just like Jesus had 12!?) (Haha) who participated in the first year of my Wise Women series. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The rest of the questions in the 2024 Reflection Tool will be answered in my old-school off-line journal. I am not that transparent. 

But it's a good exercise... I recommend taking an hour of so to think about who's blessed you, what's been hard, what changes need to be made, and what needs to be entrusted to God. 

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Lastly, a prayer. 

It's from this book: 

I'll type this one out:

God of history and of my heart, 

so much has happened to me this past year:

        I've known death (Uncle Johnny and Cynthia) and birth (Julia Elaine),

        I've been brave (have I?) and scared (most of January and February),

        I've hurt, I've helped, 

        I've been honest, and I've been less than honest,

        I've broken things (but hopefully not relationships), I've created,

        I've been with people, and oh goodness yes, I've been lonely.

        I've been loyal, I've been betrayed, (sobs)

        I've decided decisively, I've waffled back n forth and back again,

        I've laughed but mostly I've cried. 

You know my frail heart and my frayed history - 

and now another year begins...

Oh God, help me to believe in beginnings

and in my beginning again,

(no matter how often I've failed before).

Help me to make new beginnings:

        to begin going out of my weary mind INTO FRESH DREAMS

                       daring to make my own bold tracks in the land of now;

        to begin forgiving better, quicker, oftener, 

                       that I might experience (and recognize) when mercy is extended;

        to begin questioning the unquestionable, or things I simply 'assume'

                       that I might know the truth;

        to begin disciplining myself (OY. This is THE HARDEST),

                       that I may create beauty;

        to begin sacrificing

                       that I might accomplish justice;

        to begin risking (sigh... )

                       that I may make peace;

        to begin loving

                        that I may realize joy.

Help me to be a beginning for others,

        to be a singer (snort) to the songless,

        a storyteller to the aimless,

        a befriender of the friendless;

to become a beginning of hope for the despairing,

        of assurance for the doubting,

        of reconciliation for the divided;

to become a beginning of freedom for the oppressed,

        of comfort for the sorrowing,

        of friendship for the forgotten;

to become a beginning of beauty for the forlorn,

        of sweetness for the soured,

        of gentleness for the angry,

        of wholeness for the broken,

        of peace for the frightened and violent. 

Help me to believe in beginnings,

        to make a beginning,

                to be a beginning,

so that I may not just grow old,

        but grow new

each day of this wild, amazing life

        you call me to live

                with the passion of Jesus. 

Amen

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Whoa.

It's so much harder to pray those things when you type them out as opposed to simply reading it. 

This is a prayer that needs a miracle to answer it. This business of beginnings is alot. Especially if you're coming at it after a year of none of those things. 

Thanks for reading. 

Hoping this is the beginning (hahaha) of a year of better blogging.

Be nice to yourself, feel your boobs, stretch once in awhile, 

xo