From the monthly archives: "July 2013"


There we were, sister, stepmom and me, sitting at the table feeling apprehensive, knowing the impending discussion was one we had to have but not excited about any of it.  You know “the conversation” with the incredibly hard subject, everyone wanting something different, emotions running high, a lot at stake, and there is no perfect, let alone great outcome in sight.Calvario13_jpg

The time had finally arrived for us to start discussing what to do with dad’s house on the mountain at the lake.   I had invested so much time in thinking about it, talking to husband, praying for answers and I still felt uneasy and heavy-hearted. I could feel my throat tightening, wondering if I would even be able to speak when it was my turn. Read Full Article →

I have spent the past two weeks in pain. I mean literal pain, the kind of pain that hurts, that is debilitating and feels like it will never end.  The kind of pain that makes you feel sorry for yourself and compels others to feel sorry for you and secretly thankful that they are not you.

I spent a week at my dad’s home up in the mountains at the lake with my sister. We were starting the process of sorting through and reorganizing some our dad’s things and beginning the discussions between us and my stepmom about what to do with the house.  That is really when my pain began.

It started in my heart as my grief over the loss of my dad moved into the forefront of my mind with the dreaded discussion of what to do with his house that has become my special place, my retreat, and my refuge.  I could almost feel my heart bleed knowing that his wonderful house is going to become something different and likely belonging to someone different, sooner rather than later.

I am not entirely certain how I injured my back that week. We did do a lot of sorting through boxes and moving a few things around.   I also played with my wonderful 18-month-old giant of a nephew. I am not kidding about the giant part. He weighs 30 lbs. and is the size of a 3-year-old.

Whatever it was that started the spasms in my back left me in sheer agony, hurting so bad that the only place I could find marginal relief was on my side or flat on my back in bed.

It left me with lots of time to think through and experience my pain. I became so consumed by it that I even looked up the definition of pain: suffering, distress or torment that presents physically, emotionally or both.  Words used to describe pain are torture, misery, torment, ache, agony and anguish. That was me!

We have all experienced these emotions and my obvious conclusion is that pain stinks. Really, is there any other kind of pain? Before you stop reading because all I have done so far is complain, I want to share with you how God met me in the midst of one of my better pity parties to answer that question.

As I pondered all of these things, feeling horribly sorry for myself, daughter arrived. She lied down next to me and read to me as has been our custom all week. She was very careful about how she moved around me so as not to cause me greater pain. We read and talked and giggled and loved on each other. In the midst of my pain was beauty and God’s love poured over and through both of us as we spent that precious hour together.

It did not take my pain away, but it did bring me some relief, an opportunity to focus on something besides my suffering, distress, torment… you get the idea.

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