A year ago right now, I was lying in an operating waiting room, prepped for surgery, and when I awoke, my body was all jumbled up and stapled shut, and I didn't feel well for a long time.
I naively thought I would be running again six weeks postop, and that a little surgery wasn't going to get in the way of my love of the outdoors. I didn't realize how big of a surgery it was, and six weeks later I could still barely walk around, never mind run!
In the fall I thought I would be ready, but I often felt sick after running, I had vertigo if my heartrate was too high, and I just didn't feel right. I wondered if I would ever feel normal again. I felt like a fraud teaching fitness classes when I couldn't even do the exercises myself, but I am so grateful that the owner of the local fitness centre looked past my scars and gave me a chance to teach classes. She didn't care that I was out of shape, and her confidence in me gave me the confidence to move forward with teaching fitness, when I had been so close to just giving up on the whole thing.
This morning I ran for 50 minutes and it felt great, and I think my body is finally ready to take on some challenges. If I would have known that it was going to take a year to get back to normal, I never would have believed it.
I can't wait to see what the next year has in store!
Sunday, July 15, 2012
Tuesday, July 10, 2012
I'm Missing My Peeps
It's 7:17 on a Tuesday night, and I would normally be standing at the front door of The Mustard Seed, handing out plates for dinner, and smiling and chatting with the community members. But I'm in South Dakota instead, in the middle of an awesome family vacation, having visited Mount Rushmore this morning and basking in the glow of Matthew's excitement.
But I find myself thinking of everyone, wondering how they are doing in the heat without air conditioning, without constant access to water, and many of them being shunned in the shopping malls while looking for a cool place to rest. I have confidence, however, that the staff at the inner city agencies are watching for heatstroke as diligently as they watch for frostbite in the winter, and that the Hope Mission van is constantly circling, looking for signs of distress.
The coffee bar would be steaming hot, and the fans would just be blowing hot air around, and people would be cranky from the heat. But just as in the dead of winter, just one smile might brighten the day of someone who was grumpy from too much sun.
I read a quote on Twitter that one positive relationship can change the course of a person's life, and I'm determined to be that one positive relationship.
But for now, I'm enjoying the dry heat in the Black Hills, looking forward to a day at the local waterpark tomorrow, and hanging out with my family in our air conditioned hotel room.
I'll be back with my peeps next Tuesday.
But I find myself thinking of everyone, wondering how they are doing in the heat without air conditioning, without constant access to water, and many of them being shunned in the shopping malls while looking for a cool place to rest. I have confidence, however, that the staff at the inner city agencies are watching for heatstroke as diligently as they watch for frostbite in the winter, and that the Hope Mission van is constantly circling, looking for signs of distress.
The coffee bar would be steaming hot, and the fans would just be blowing hot air around, and people would be cranky from the heat. But just as in the dead of winter, just one smile might brighten the day of someone who was grumpy from too much sun.
I read a quote on Twitter that one positive relationship can change the course of a person's life, and I'm determined to be that one positive relationship.
But for now, I'm enjoying the dry heat in the Black Hills, looking forward to a day at the local waterpark tomorrow, and hanging out with my family in our air conditioned hotel room.
I'll be back with my peeps next Tuesday.
Thursday, June 21, 2012
Wes
On Sunday morning I woke up and read the online news that a man had been beaten outside of the Boyle McCauley Health Centre. I'm very familiar with that building; it's right across the street from the Mustard Seed and there are always people hanging around, whether it's open or closed.
I immediately wondered if I knew the man, but the article said that he went by "Ghost", and that didn't ring a bell. After all, I thought, there are so many who aren't allowed into the Mustard Seed since they drink or use, and surely this guy who was hanging out in the middle of the night wasn't one of ours.
But I was wrong.
When I entered the Mustard Seed on Tuesday night, Maria said, "We need to talk about Wes, he died this morning." I responded, "Not the guy who was beaten on the weekend", but she nodded her head, and pointed to the picture from EPS.
I didn't know Wes well; he hadn't been in for a while, but I definitely recognized the picture. He was quiet, never tried to converse, just politely took a plate and marched along. There were rumours abound from the community members: He was a pedophile. He was told not to return to the neighbourhood. But really, who knows the truth?
The truth is that a man was killed by three others on a street that many wouldn't drive down, much less walk down. And yet I've walked around that street, I've stood on the street corners talking to people, I've chased people down the street when I thought they were in trouble. I have never once thought about how dangerous it was, even when a community member told me once, "You shouldn't be walking alone around here." I've always just seen it as a Street, and seen the people as People, and wondered why anyone would be scared to come down to help out the People on the Street.
I guess I know better now.
I immediately wondered if I knew the man, but the article said that he went by "Ghost", and that didn't ring a bell. After all, I thought, there are so many who aren't allowed into the Mustard Seed since they drink or use, and surely this guy who was hanging out in the middle of the night wasn't one of ours.
But I was wrong.
When I entered the Mustard Seed on Tuesday night, Maria said, "We need to talk about Wes, he died this morning." I responded, "Not the guy who was beaten on the weekend", but she nodded her head, and pointed to the picture from EPS.
I didn't know Wes well; he hadn't been in for a while, but I definitely recognized the picture. He was quiet, never tried to converse, just politely took a plate and marched along. There were rumours abound from the community members: He was a pedophile. He was told not to return to the neighbourhood. But really, who knows the truth?
The truth is that a man was killed by three others on a street that many wouldn't drive down, much less walk down. And yet I've walked around that street, I've stood on the street corners talking to people, I've chased people down the street when I thought they were in trouble. I have never once thought about how dangerous it was, even when a community member told me once, "You shouldn't be walking alone around here." I've always just seen it as a Street, and seen the people as People, and wondered why anyone would be scared to come down to help out the People on the Street.
I guess I know better now.
Wednesday, June 13, 2012
Two Years
I was just reading my blog entry on June 15, 2010 - the first day I worked down at the Mustard Seed, and I wrote that I was One Billion Percent Sure that I had finally landed where God had called me - into the inner city, working with people. Last night marked the two year mark of my Ministry, and while it's been a challenging two years, it has also been two years of spiritual growth and self discovery.
It was a busy night last night, much like the night that I started, but I was able to do a lot of roaming around, a lot of chatting, a lot of helping. The karaoke was entertaining, as usual, and the coffee flowed freely as people came in out of the rain. The highlight of the night (for the community) was the snack group who served ice cream and cookies. I managed to sneak some Cream Soda, my favorite type of pop, and sip it happily behind the coffee bar. My highlight was when my little buddy Glen gave me a flower to take home - he had picked something out that would be difficult for me to kill - I only have to water it once every two weeks! Glen has always been friendly inside the Mustard Seed, but I have heard stories about his fights on the outside, including one that got him suspended for a few months. It reminds me to keep my guard up, which hasn't always been the case.
They warned me before I started not to get too close to people since they may try to take advantage of a friendship....and it happened, but also taught me a good lesson. I had a favorite, and we became really good friends....and then he asked me for money, and not just a little bit of money. No one has ever asked me for anything, not even a quarter for the pop machine, because they know we can't give them anything, but the fact that he had the courage to ask me for a significant amount of money meant that I had let my guard down and gotten too close. It jolted me into reality, I said no (of course - I don't even lend money to family!), and haven't seen him since. Lesson learned.
It's been a great two years, and I've met some great people. I just wish more of us who are blessed with time and money would give our time to these people - they are not scary, they are just people who are so grateful for a smile or a helping hand. God has his protective hand over those of us who are called, and I have never once felt concern about being in the inner city.
I am looking forward to all that this next year brings....
It was a busy night last night, much like the night that I started, but I was able to do a lot of roaming around, a lot of chatting, a lot of helping. The karaoke was entertaining, as usual, and the coffee flowed freely as people came in out of the rain. The highlight of the night (for the community) was the snack group who served ice cream and cookies. I managed to sneak some Cream Soda, my favorite type of pop, and sip it happily behind the coffee bar. My highlight was when my little buddy Glen gave me a flower to take home - he had picked something out that would be difficult for me to kill - I only have to water it once every two weeks! Glen has always been friendly inside the Mustard Seed, but I have heard stories about his fights on the outside, including one that got him suspended for a few months. It reminds me to keep my guard up, which hasn't always been the case.
They warned me before I started not to get too close to people since they may try to take advantage of a friendship....and it happened, but also taught me a good lesson. I had a favorite, and we became really good friends....and then he asked me for money, and not just a little bit of money. No one has ever asked me for anything, not even a quarter for the pop machine, because they know we can't give them anything, but the fact that he had the courage to ask me for a significant amount of money meant that I had let my guard down and gotten too close. It jolted me into reality, I said no (of course - I don't even lend money to family!), and haven't seen him since. Lesson learned.
It's been a great two years, and I've met some great people. I just wish more of us who are blessed with time and money would give our time to these people - they are not scary, they are just people who are so grateful for a smile or a helping hand. God has his protective hand over those of us who are called, and I have never once felt concern about being in the inner city.
I am looking forward to all that this next year brings....
Wednesday, May 16, 2012
Does God Speak to Us?
I've been revisting my Chuck Missler Genesis study this month; I love how he breaks our world down into seminars of particle physics and beautiful biological explanations. Yesterday he spoke of the giraffe and how it is biologically impossible that the giraffe evolved due to its complex structure. He spoke of mitochodria and their little engines and the code within DNA. He puts it in such a way that you can't argue with the gloriousness (is that a word?) of Creation. My logical brain agrees with Chuck Missler, that there is a Creator of our Universe and we are His children, but my selfish heart keeps turning away.
I had a dream last night and I'm positive He was speaking to me, giving me some direction, but it's so easy to rationalize it and turn it into something beneficial for my own gain, not His. I shouldn't ignore these dreams when I wake up and immediately say, "That was from God", and when I know exactly why He sent the dream to me. Sometimes dreams are fuzzy and when you wake up you wonder, "What was THAT all about??!!??!!", but then there are dreams that are so clear, and you can say to yourself, "I know exactly what that was all about."
Some people long for God to speak to them in a concrete fashion, and here I am, the God of the Universe speaking to me, and I'm full of yah buts. Yah but.....I say, No, He responds. Yah but.....I say. No, He responds.
This is too hard. I'm going to listen to another session of Genesis now.
I had a dream last night and I'm positive He was speaking to me, giving me some direction, but it's so easy to rationalize it and turn it into something beneficial for my own gain, not His. I shouldn't ignore these dreams when I wake up and immediately say, "That was from God", and when I know exactly why He sent the dream to me. Sometimes dreams are fuzzy and when you wake up you wonder, "What was THAT all about??!!??!!", but then there are dreams that are so clear, and you can say to yourself, "I know exactly what that was all about."
Some people long for God to speak to them in a concrete fashion, and here I am, the God of the Universe speaking to me, and I'm full of yah buts. Yah but.....I say, No, He responds. Yah but.....I say. No, He responds.
This is too hard. I'm going to listen to another session of Genesis now.
Saturday, April 21, 2012
Sacrifice
The ward is quiet right now, no babies crying, no machines beeping, and I'm just awaiting the nurse to come in and wake Matthew out of a peaceful sleep, sleeping for the third night in a strange bed because of an inevitable slip.
I always knew Matthew would break an arm someday; I just didn't plan on it being a week before the end of tax season, just before the weekend where I was going to get all caught up and coast into April 30th. But tax season doesn't really seem to matter anymore; that all went out the window the moment I saw him with an extra elbow where his forearm used to be.
It was a truly gruesome sight - his right hand dangled down and I knew immediately that he had broken through the bones. X-rays would later confirm my suspicions. Elizabeth ran screaming down the hallway at the sight and I broke into adrenaline mode - phoned the neighbours to get over there, kept telling Matthew to not move his arm, but for some reason my brain couldn't tell myself to get dressed (this all happened at 930 pm). Adrenaline does funny things.
We sat in the Devon hospital for a while, and then the doctor said we had to go to the Stollery - and in an ambulance, no less, since they had given Matthew morphine. The doctors at the Stollery emergency did their best, but the bone was too badly broken to fix manually, and surgery was the only option.
I hope we get to go home tomorrow, but if we don't, I'll stay, for as long as it takes, since Matthew doesn't want to be here alone. I'll endure the sleepless nights, the noisy roommate, the crying babies, and if work doesn't get done, oh well. April 30th comes and goes with no real consequences, but a child is forever, and it's my job to take care of him.
I would give up my entire career to make sure he's comfortable and unafraid. He'll always be my baby, even when we're both old and grey.
I always knew Matthew would break an arm someday; I just didn't plan on it being a week before the end of tax season, just before the weekend where I was going to get all caught up and coast into April 30th. But tax season doesn't really seem to matter anymore; that all went out the window the moment I saw him with an extra elbow where his forearm used to be.
It was a truly gruesome sight - his right hand dangled down and I knew immediately that he had broken through the bones. X-rays would later confirm my suspicions. Elizabeth ran screaming down the hallway at the sight and I broke into adrenaline mode - phoned the neighbours to get over there, kept telling Matthew to not move his arm, but for some reason my brain couldn't tell myself to get dressed (this all happened at 930 pm). Adrenaline does funny things.
We sat in the Devon hospital for a while, and then the doctor said we had to go to the Stollery - and in an ambulance, no less, since they had given Matthew morphine. The doctors at the Stollery emergency did their best, but the bone was too badly broken to fix manually, and surgery was the only option.
I hope we get to go home tomorrow, but if we don't, I'll stay, for as long as it takes, since Matthew doesn't want to be here alone. I'll endure the sleepless nights, the noisy roommate, the crying babies, and if work doesn't get done, oh well. April 30th comes and goes with no real consequences, but a child is forever, and it's my job to take care of him.
I would give up my entire career to make sure he's comfortable and unafraid. He'll always be my baby, even when we're both old and grey.
Tuesday, April 3, 2012
What A Guy!
Ryan Smyth of our Edmonton Oilers visited Donnie in the hospital yesterday. Donnie of the Mustard Seed, Donnie of the inner city, who was always dressed head to toe in Oilers or Eskimos clothing. Poor Donnie will probably not live out the week, but he will pass away with a smile on his face, remembering the day that a millionaire took time out of his day to visit a dying fan.
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