Jumping

Since the death of my husband, Lawrence, a few weeks ago, my heart has felt a pain I didn’t think possible. 

There have been many times that it hurts so bad, I, of course, try to numb it.  But I remember other times that I have numbed pain, which led to decisions that didn’t turn out well…

A few years ago, my two daughters, three grandsons, and I, ventured off to Africa to volunteer at an orphanage located in Livingstone, Zambia.  Along with volunteering, I was asked to speak at a school.

When I finished my presentation, our hosts, Dwayne, Julie, and their children and my daughters, Jodie, Lindsey, my grandsons, and I, went to a place I had previously expressed an interest in going to—the Victoria Falls, one of the seven wonders of the world, and one of the most beautiful spots in the world to bungee jump from.

I thought I would be able to change my clothes, but there we were at the bridge with me in my “speaking” clothes, trying to determine whether I wanted to jump. Standing for what seemed an eternity, I peered into the gorge at the churning river. I asked my family for their opinion. Should I jump? Jodie didn’t have a problem with it. The boys thought it was very cool. Lindsey was not in favor and later confessed, “Mom, I was so afraid of losing you!” But I sensed something pushing me to do it.

As they were putting the gear on me, Lindsey was in tears. Alex looked like he was afraid. They were both praying. The workers asked me if I was scared. I replied, “A little, but nothing major.” As they placed what appeared to be a life jacket over my head, they asked if I could swim. I replied, yes, I could indeed swim. I put my arms out as they instructed me in the “I’m about to jump off this bridge pose.” There was no fear, no trembling, nothing.

I jumped. My eyes were open the whole time. I didn’t scream, nothing. After the first jerk of the rope, I looked around in total awe. I felt fantastic! What a rush!

Two weeks later at home, I did a lot of processing. I said to Lawrence, “There’s something about that jump. Just after I decided to do it, I got this feeling. It did not go away as they put the gear on me. It was not a foreign feeling, I’ve felt it before.”

Never had I done anything like this before, yet I recognized the feeling. I had disassociated myself from my emotions. I had become a robot. I had numbed myself. I felt nothing. It was the exact same feeling before the abortion I had thirty years before.

God multitasked in so many ways on the trip, but He wanted me to come face to face once again with the experience. He spoke to my heart. “Melony, I’m so glad you recognized the emotion. From now on, when you are in a place of feeling nothing, I want you to know it is not from Me. I wanted to take you through the sensation, so you sense even stronger the intense joy I have for you on the other side of it.”

I recognized if you can’t feel intense pain then you won’t feel intense joy either. I have never felt more alive than I did at that moment. And I could tell it wasn’t the adrenaline rush—it was God.

After the jump, as I had walked back still clad in the bungee gear, someone said, “What’s that tab on your life jacket?”

Before I could respond that I didn’t know, someone else said, “That’s the tab you pull to inflate it if you need it.”

No one instructed me how to inflate the life jacket before I jumped.

Painful, traumatic things happen in life.  Many do not recognize they have God's life jacket on, and they end up in a place of "nothingness," unaware that there is a tab on their life jacket to pull.

Does my heart hurt right now?  Of course, it does.  I married Lawrence.  When we marry, God says that we become one.  Half of me is now missing.

Am I still trying to numb the pain?  Yes.  But I'm choosing more and more to embrace It.  When the pain becomes too intense and I feel like I'm drowning, I will pull the tab, and God will be with me through it…

I wasn't prepared...

Part of what I do involves helping people recognize and move through emotional pain in their lives.  My husband has always been what I would term a “carpet sweeper”.  “You just have to suck it up and get over it,” he would say.

That Monday morning, I received a text from my best friend.  Alden said he was awakened in the night and felt strongly he was to pray for you.  Which he did!  Just checking to see how you’re doing!  My forehead furrowed as I wondered, but I responded:  Well I was awake half the night thinking about our bathroom renos and the fundraising banquet but other than that everything is great!  Something must be going on in the spiritual realm.  Thank him for standing in the gap!

Nothing could’ve prepared me for what was about to happen.

Tuesday evening was pleasant.  We had enjoyed a glass of wine together when I arrived home from the Center, ate supper, and spoke about the day’s events.  We went to bed between 9:00 and 9:30 p.m.

At 11:40, I awoke to the howling of an intense wind that had been forecasted.  Lawrence had spent the day “battening down the hatches” in the yard.  We live on a farm.  This time of year, it is normal for farmers to burn bush piles and field straw in preparation of next year’s crop.  Sometimes you can see the bush piles smoldering weeks later, only to relight after a brisk wind.  The wind that night was more than just brisk.  It was clocking at more than 120 km. 

I just happened to look out the window and saw a wall of flames across the road about half a mile away.  “Oh my God, there’s a fire!” I yelled.  I called 911, only to hear a recording that all lines were busy.  Lawrence got up, took one look and said, “Grab your stuff and get out!”  I called two homes of neighbors, one of which happens to be Lawrence’s cousin Brian and his wife Maureen, who groggily answered the phone to the warning, “Get up and get out of your house!  There’s a fire and it’s coming fast!”  I took another look as I ran upstairs.  The flames were higher and brighter, as they licked at the darkness.  They were hungry.

What do you take when you think your house is about to burn down?  I threw on some jeans, a hoodie, flip flops, and grabbed my phone, ipad which contains family photos, medication, and chargers.

We drove out of the yard and turned to the east.  Brian and Maureen were now safe in their truck at the end of their lane a quarter of a mile away.  We pulled up beside them.  By now, we could see that the fire was going to miss our house, but it was quickly moving east.  Another neighbor was right in it’s path.  “What’s their number?” we screamed.  None of us knew it.  As we drove back to our house to get the number, Lawrence was driving slow.  “Hurry up!” I screamed at him.  “What are you waiting for!”

The glow of the flames was incredibly eerie as they leapt and continued licking at what they wanted to devour. 

I jumped out of the truck, running inside to look for the neighbor’s number.  I didn’t have my glasses on and I kept getting someone else’s answering machine.  We would have to drive and warn them. 

I ran out of the house, only to find Lawrence collapsed at the side of the truck.  Brian and Maureen had just followed us into the yard.  “Lawrence is collapsed!” I screamed.  They both rushed to his side.  Maureen has medical experience and said, “Don’t touch him!” as she felt for a pulse.  “Start CPR!” she screamed.  Brian started CPR as I tried 911 again.  The operator calmly, firmly, and quickly gave instruction.  She had to speak loudly.  The wind was so intense, you could hardly hear her.  Brian was tiring.  I took over.  “Put me on speakerphone!” she said.  My arms and hands were pumping his chest as she yelled, “One! Two! Three! Four!”  The wind howled, blowing leaves and grit, feeding the glow of the fire across the road.  “The ambulance will be there any minute!  Just keep going!” 

“Say it with me!” she said, as I started screaming with each pump, “One!, Two!, Three! Four!” 

The RCMP arrived within a few minutes and took over as we stood watching in horror.  “You can do this Lawrence!” I screamed.  “Hang in there buddy!” Brian yelled.

“Melony…” one of the officers said.  I turned around.  I knew this man.  He is a Christian. 

The ambulance arrived.  They administered the paddles, trying to shock his heart back into rhythm.  They loaded him into the ambulance, asking if he was on any medication.  “Yes!” I ran quickly into the house to retrieve it.  The officer followed me.  As I ran to get Lawrence’s meds, I could hear him praying…

Quickly, I ran back to the ambulance, asking if I could go with Lawrence.  “Yes, but you will have to ride in the front.”  Sitting there for what seemed an eternity, and getting increasingly frustrated, one paramedic said, “I’m an advanced care paramedic.  Whatever can be done at the hospital, I can do here.  I want you to know, that’s why we aren’t moving yet.”  I took a deep breath, hoping beyond hope that there was a chance that Lawrence would be ok and we would be talking about the night’s events while we drank coffee in a few days…

Finally, the ambulance started moving.  Fast.  The wind tossed it around like a toy as we drove the ten miles to the hospital.  As the paramedic worked on him, I kept looking back at Lawrence as I fumbled with my phone, desperately trying to reach all our children.

Halfway there, the paramedic said to the driver, “You can downgrade.”  In my heart, I instantly knew what those words meant, but my mind still hoped.  I looked back.  “He’s gone…” he said.

The days following have been like a bad nightmare that we wish we would wake up from.  We have a blended family.  Lawrence’s children loved and respected him passionately, and even though my children weren’t of his blood, they loved him as though he was their own father…  Me?  My heart beats so fast at times it feels as though it’s coming out of my chest.  And I waken completely startled throughout each night.  I have moved through a lot of emotional pain in my life and I thought it would’ve prepared me for this.  It hasn’t.  But God is present and has shown me signs of His presence:

• The text from my friend

• The RCMP officer that prayed that night.  He also prayed for the family as we sat with Lawrence’s body in the hospital afterward.

• Praying together as a family when we went to view his body in the funeral home.  It was powerful. 

• A one-hundred-year-old tree uprooted in our yard that night that was in a protected area.  The wind didn’t just break off limbs, it totally uprooted it.

• The doctor had determined that Lawrence died right here at the end of our sidewalk and not in the ambulance.  He was wearing his fitbit that night.  A couple of days later, I prepared what my heart would feel as I synced it to his ipad.  And when I checked, it was clear that he died at 12:16 a.m.  I hadn’t shared this information yet with anyone until his eldest grandson, Justin Lawrence, asked me what time he died.  I was puzzled as to why he would want to know that.  My eyes and my heart stretched as he said he heard a loud bang on the side of his house that night.  He awoke and looked at his clock.  It was 12:16 a.m. 

Even though we all see God in this, it doesn’t mean that it hurts any less.  We all see him everywhere, and my heart feels a pain I never thought imaginable as I look at the spot where he died and watch the dogs search for him… 

But Lawrence isn’t lost.  He is with the Lord.  And I pray that through all of this, our family’s hearts continue searching for the love and comfort only the Lord can provide. 

If there’s one thing I’ve learned, you cannot love pain out of someone.  You can walk beside them as they go through it, but you cannot take it from them. 

I’m sorry my love…  We can’t just “suck it up and get over it.”  You are worth it.  Every.  Single.  Tear.  And the flame of love that I have for you will continue to burn brightly as the smoke from the pain slowly wafts its way up to the Lord as a sacrificial aroma.

Oh ye of little faith ~ Part 2

A portion of last week’s blog:

As I went online to place the order, I almost fell out of my chair…  Fifty programs was EXACTLY $700…which meant 100 (what they wanted in the first place) was EXACTLY $1,400.  EXACTLY what I had received for my car…  

I could feel my heart’s thoughts . . . Oh ye of little faith…  I hung my head as I remembered their words.  God will provide.

I had returned to Africa with the Moses program to another orphanage last year.  This time, the organization that I’m the director of, The Options Pregnancy Center, allowed me to go on their time.  I didn’t have to use my holiday time.  We started the program at Options to help adoptees.  The Board felt strongly that the borders that divide countries are man-made . . . but emotional pain transcends borders, race, color, religion and economic status.  “Same work, it’s just a different continent,” they said.

I was so excited when I realized the proceeds from the sale of my car were the EXACT amount for the cost of the one hundred programs the young men had asked for.  I could hardly contain myself!  I called the Chairman of Options to tell him the news. 

“Well, I have a bit of a problem with this,” he said. 

What are you talking about? , I thought as my heart sank. 

“My problem with it is . . . I think Options should be paying for the programs . . .” he said.

I almost dropped the phone.  I was speechless. 

As I hung up the phone, I realized that God was waiting for me to be obedient.  Only then would I be blessed.  The scripture immediately came to mind: Behold, to obey is better than sacrifice.

Within a few days, something else was brewing.  There was a problem with the couple that would be taking the programs to the orphanage in Africa.  They (Dwayne and Julie) and their four children had previously volunteered there.  In fact, they had helped facilitate the rest of the program after I had left.  The timing of it all was impeccable.  Only God could make this all happen so succinctly.  But now there was a chance they would not be going.

Another woman and I prayed with them, the couple sitting between the two of us.

“Melony, do you see anything?”  the woman asked.

I cringed when she asked the question.  It had been a long time since I “saw” anything when praying, but a vision formed in my head.

“I see a train made up of two cars.  It has no engine.  The strange thing is, the cars are sitting on a set of tracks that ends.  The tracks go nowhere.  And it’s a picture . . .  There’s a frame around it.”

I almost didn’t even say what the vision was.  It just seemed incredibly “out there” to me.

The next day, I asked Dwayne and Julie if anything came to mind yet about what the vision meant.

“No,” Dwayne said.  “But I recalled shortly after we prayed that there is now a five-star dining train that goes by the orphanage.  It takes tourists on excursions into the game park.  It has an engine and one car.  The orphans run to the window all the time to watch it as it goes by.”

My brow furrowed, wondering what it meant.

A few minutes later, as I was talking with someone, her voice became very distant.  She was talking, but I could not hear a word she was saying.  My eyes widened as I realized what the vision meant.

Dwayne and Julie listened intently as I told them.  “The vision I saw is the same vision that the orphans see every day through the window.  The window is the “frame”.  They see two “cars”.  What do you think are the chances of any of them ever being on that train?  In their minds, their tracks are going nowhere.  And they have no engine.  God will use YOU as the engine to bring them out of their despair and hopelessness.”

“My heart is at peace,” Julie said.  “I know now that the vision means we will be going.  There won’t be a problem.”

Within a few days, I received a text from Julie.  We just received confirmation.  We’re going.

My heart leapt.  I have a HUGE smile on my face, I responded. 

Apparently God has plans.  I can’t wait to see what happens!!!

Oh ye of little faith

The teenagers in an orphanage in Africa were extremely impacted by the Moses adoptee program when I took it over there a couple of years ago.  I had shared my own story and talked about the emotional pain that I recognized and the need to walk through it.  The program helps orphans and adoptees process their experiences and emotions, which ultimately brings them to a closer relationship with God…

During our stay, I walked them through the first five chapters.  They had never spoken of their pain and were so heavily impacted by the program that they now want to take it to other orphanages in the area.  They started messaging me a few months ago and asked if I would “mentor” them in this project.  I said I would.  I asked how they would fund the books. 

God will provide, they responded.   The last time I ordered the programs, they were about $10 each.  They said they wanted 100. 

Great, I said to myself, no one understands and no one is going to want to help with something like this, so I will obviously have to fund it myself.  So after messaging back and forth with them for a few weeks, I told them I would try to send 50 programs. 

Weeks later, my car broke down.  It is an old car and considering the amount of miles I travel, I knew it wasn’t worth the $2000 required to fix it.  I decided to sell it, with an asking price of $1,200.  There were no takers.  My son-in-law asked if he could try to sell it for me.  A few days later, I received a text.  Cancel your plates.  I’ve sold your car.  But he didn’t say how much he had received for it. 

The next morning, I texted him, and asked how much he had received for the car.  I told him I was about to place an order for the 50 programs being sent to Africa.  Imagine my surprise when he texted back $1,400.  I was ecstatic!!!  $200 more than what I was asking!!!

As I went online to place the order, I almost fell out of my chair…  Fifty programs was EXACTLY $700…which meant 100 (what they wanted in the first place) was EXACTLY $1,400.  EXACTLY what I had received for my car… 

I could feel my heart’s thoughts . . . Oh ye of little faith…  I hung my head as I remembered their words.  God will provide.

But there is more to this story.  Stay tuned for Part 2 of Oh ye of little faith.

Confessions of a Tow Truck Driver

It’s my first day heading back to work after an extended period of time off.  I commute a total of two hours each day.  I’m first in line at a temporary light in a construction zone on the Trans-Canada Highway . . . the light turns green . . . and my car stalls.  I restart it; put it in gear; and it stalls again.  Are you picturing this?

I immediately turn my hazard lights on and quickly jump out of the car to raise the hood as vehicles slowly start making their way around me.  Ah yes, the joys of being the one who is holding up traffic.  I’m fumbling around my wallet trying to find my CAA card and suddenly, there’s a knock on the window.  A young man is motioning for me to roll it down.  “If you put your car in neutral, I can probably push you over to the side.  This is a dangerous spot.  You could easily get rear-ended.”  I was so thankful to have some help that the sarcastic side of my brain didn’t have a chance to spew the thought, Really???  This is a dangerous spot???

Within moments, my car and I were gratefully huddled on the side of the road, with hood still raised and hazard lights blinking.  The sympathetic CAA agent is taking down my information when I hear another knock on the window.  This time it’s one of the highway construction workers.  “Ma’am, this is not a safe place to park your car.  You’re going to have to move it.”  I pointed to the raised hood as he listened to my conversation with the CAA agent.  It was then that he realized the stupidity of what he had just said and went back to what he was doing.

I actually laughed as I sat there waiting for the tow-truck.  What else could happen on my first day back?

Within a short time, my knight in shining tow-truck arrived.  And within a short time, I had an appreciation for him.  He clearly knew what he was doing. 

On the way to my mechanic’s garage, I told him just that – that he was very proficient at his job. 

“I’ve been doing this for ten years,” he said as he butted his cigarette.  “I’ve seen a lot.”

For some reason, I had never thought of it before.  Whenever I saw the scene of an accident and all the lights, I had always thought of police, firefighters, paramedics . . . but I didn’t even think of one of the lights being that of a tow-truck . . .

“After one particular accident, I had PTSD, which is post-traumatic stress disorder,” he said.   ‘‘A man had committed suicide at an intersection.  I had to stop doing those calls.”  You could almost see the reflection of the scene from years before in his eyes.

“Yes, I know what PTSD is,” I said.  A memory surfaced instantly of a soldier who had done numerous tours in Afghanistan.  He had told me of an incident where he had gone fifty feet into a minefield to save the life of a young girl.  In the next sentence, he desperately tried to convince his girlfriend that she should abort his unborn child, which could add more PTSD onto what he already suffered from.  Yes, I was very aware of PTSD, and its effects . . . . 

“What do you do for a living?” he asked, shaking me from my reverie.

 “I’m the director of a pregnancy center.  And part of what I do is to help men and women come to terms with experiences that they’ve had with abortion.”  - To prevent more PTSD from occurring . . . I thought to myself.

I told him about one gentleman in particular.  “A few years ago, a man attended the program who had suffered from bouts of depression.  He was married and had children but had years before, pushed a girlfriend to have an abortion.  The guilt led to a depression that had deepened enough that he had picked out which concrete bridge abutment would be the best to drive into.  And what speed he would have to hit it at for it to kill him.”

“I had no idea,” he said, shaking his head.

Me either . . . . 

The Contribution

November 16th at 9:01 a.m. will mark ten years of being Director at a Crisis Pregnancy Center.

I have constantly sought and asked God for his guidance, wisdom, and direction.  This story is one of those memorable times.

A few years ago, I was sitting beside a pastor at a church function and noticed a young woman.  I couldn’t put my finger on it, but there was something about the way she carried herself.  It was a quiet confidence.

I asked him who she was, then I made a bold statement I have NEVER said before. 

“There’s something about her,” I said.  “If I had the money, I would hire her.” 

I kept noticing how she conducted herself.  At the end of the weekend, she approached me to talk about her interest in volunteering at the Center.

She was taken aback by my response.  “I’ve been watching you throughout the weekend.  I want you to know that if I had the money, I would hire you to work at the Center.”

A few weeks went by.  A gentleman in one of the Center’s programs asked if he could donate.  We never want clients to feel as though they need to make donations.  “We have many, many, people who believe in what happens at the Center.  It is very kind of you to want to do that.  Why don’t you wait until after you’ve completed the program?  If you still feel inclined, you could contribute then.”

Weeks later, he recognized how much his life had changed for the better.  He insisted on contributing.  “I’m in a position to help,” he said. “Please tell me of a need that you have.”

I told him I would pray about it and let him know. 

A few weeks later, myself and two friends of mine, were on a motorcycle trip.  I received a text from him.  “Have you thought about a financial need I can fill yet?”

I felt uncomfortable with the request.  I had no idea how to reply. 

“I’m sorry.  I don’t know how to respond.  How much money are you talking about?”

We had stopped to fill our bikes with fuel.  He responded.  “I was thinking $25,000.”  I almost fell off my bike.

That night, I told my friends about the donation.  “I have no idea what to do with that kind of money!”

The next morning, we talked and prayed as we always did.  One of the stories I shared with them was about the young woman I had seen weeks earlier.

Sometimes, you need someone to help you see the forest for the trees.

“Melony, I don’t know what your problem is,” Becky said. “God has clearly shown you a person you should be hiring at the Center.  And now He’s providing you with the money to hire her.”

I prayed.  Hard.  God, is this what you want?  Am I hearing You correctly?

Within two days, I called the young woman and offered her a position.  She just happened to be on the roof of a house, helping her father shingle it.  She’s not afraid of hard work.

She accepted the position.  Here we go.  Lord, I pray you are behind all of this.

A few months went by.  The man called.  “I’d like to speak with you,” he said.  We set up an appointment for him to come in the next day.

“I’ve changed my mind,” he said.

Oh great . . .  See!  You weren’t listening correctly!  What are you going to do now?  You’ve already hired this woman!

“I’ve changed my mind,” he said again as he reached into his pocket.  “I’ve changed my mind about the amount.”

He handed me a cheque.

It was for $50,000.

Rescued

“Friends love through all kinds of weather, and families stick together through all kinds of trouble.”—Proverbs 17:17 (The Message Version)

“That’s interesting,” I thought, as my friend Kate read from her devotion that morning.  It was the same scripture that had been revealed during a previous time of adversity.  She continued to read.  “If you have Godly friends, love and nurture those relationships as though your life depends on them, because it does.”

My eyes teared.  Kate is my best friend.  We have stood beside and propped each other up through some tough times.  Times like her daughter passing away in an accident in 2011.  Times like my son-in-law passing away two years later.  Times like both of us being ready to throw in the towel on the ministries that God has called us to.  She is a “friend that loves through all kinds of weather.”

Although the wind started to blow from the same direction it had the previous day, it was a beautiful morning.  Kate, my eleven-year-old grandson Alex, and myself were on a kayak trip on the Qu’Appelle river. 

The day before had already proved to be an adventure.  We had taken a couple of breaks along the banks of the river, but as we tried to find a place to camp for the night, there was nowhere in sight to get out.  The embankments were too high and steep.  Finally, after seven hours of paddling, we found a spot.  A herd of magnificent horses kept peering over the embankment at us.  It was their watering spot.  You could practically read their thoughts as they flicked their ears. “Yep, they’re still there,” they said to each other as they trotted away.

Alex was asleep early.  We had found wood for a fire and Kate and I warmed ourselves as shooting stars burned their way through the clear night.  It was breathtaking. 

“Grandma, I’m not feeling well,” Alex said after Kate finished reading her devotion the next morning.  Then he started vomiting.

We took turns towing him a few times the day before.  Kate’s kayak was longer and sleeker than mine.  Even when she towed Alex, it was hard for me to keep up. 

“No problem Alex,” I said.  “I will tow you.  All you have to do is sit in the kayak until we reach our destination.”  Kate and I looked at each other.  The long day before had already taxed our bodies.  So, she insisted on towing Alex, knowing we would reach our destination sooner.

After we launched, I started to become sick.  At one point, Alex and I vomited over the sides of our kayaks in unison.  I would’ve laughed, had we not been in this situation.

We kept going.  But every time we traversed an oxbow, there would be a long distance of the wind blowing straight at us.  It was strong enough that if we stopped, it would blow us back against the current.

The reception on our cell phones wasn’t great, but I managed to call my daughter, Jodie, to let her know we would hopefully be at a spot soon where she could pick up Alex.  But the reception wasn’t sufficient to load the GPS on our phones.  We had no idea how much farther it was.

I could see the worried look on Alex’s face.  His condition was not improving.  Things were starting to look bleak.

Kate steered her kayak into the reeds.  Her neck muscles were in extreme pain and she had an eye condition that was rearing its ugly head.  She felt as though daggers were being driven into her eyes.  She needed to keep them closed.

“Mel, I’ve lost hope.  I feel like I’m going to pass out.  I don’t think I can go on.”

It just got bleaker.

Kate was my rock.  And she was one tough cookie.  If she was losing hope . . .

I took one look at my grandson’s face.

“This is not a problem,” I said as I tied a rope onto Kate’s kayak, then mine.  “I will tow both you and Alex.  We will make it.”

No one said a word.  A strength from a deep, deep, place came out of nowhere. 

The wind continued to blow.  I could hear Kate and Alex’s moans as we rounded each bend, only to see another long stretch of river.  But we kept moving.  With me in front, Kate could paddle most of the time with her eyes closed.

Finally, the lake loomed ahead.  But the wind blew harder.  A building emerged in the distance, but it was miles away.  We would never make it.  Alex continued to vomit over the side of his kayak. 

“Grandma, what are we going to do?” he asked, his voice shaking.

I looked around.  And prayed.  “I’m calling Uncle Rod,” I said.

‘Uncle Rod’ is my other son-in-law.  Within minutes and without hesitation, he dropped everything.  

Time ticked away.  “Grandma, what if he doesn’t make it?  What if he can’t find us?”  Storm clouds started gathering overhead.

“He will be here.”

The sound of a motor was heard, and there in the distance, relief filled our hearts.  Rod, and my daughter Lindsey, were coming to rescue us and tow us home.

I didn’t realize how desperate it appeared to Kate until we were safe in the truck.  “Honestly, Mel, at times, I was ready to press the 911 button on my phone.”

But there had been three towropes before Rod and Lindsey arrived.  The rope between Kate and Alex’s kayak, the rope between Kate’s and my kayak, and the rope between my kayak and the Lord’s.

“If you have Godly friends, love and nurture those relationships as though your life depends on them, because it does.” 

It wasn’t a life-threatening situation, but it affected us deeply.  Kate had worked through some safety-based issues, Alex experienced the joy of being rescued.  Me?  My faith rope was extended a few more meters.

I had prayed that my grandson would have an unforgettable, memorable experience.

It was.

The next day, tears fell as I listened to a worship song, “The wind and waves surround me . . . I am tired, I am weak, I need You here with me . . .”

He was.

Sick Secrets

A few weeks ago, I was in the hospital for a colonoscopy.  I know, I know . . . too much information, but there’s a story here.

There were numerous beds in the room and we all waited, male and female, for our turn for the procedure.  A woman shared that she had previously had surgery for colon cancer and was in for a check-up.  She said that if the cancer returned, she would be heading to Mexico for alternative treatment. 

“There’s no history of colon cancer in my family,” she said, “so why would I have this cancer?”

I knew the question was rhetorical, but the look on her face said she was begging for an answer.  I said nothing, and it has bothered me ever since.  I wish I had told her a bit of what I have come to understand.  I don’t know her name.  But who knows?  Maybe by chance she will read this blog.

Ever since I was small, I had mysterious “heart pain”.  Mom and Dad would haul me off to various doctors, trying to find the cause.  I was diagnosed with everything from a heart murmur, to pericarditis, to angina, to a pinched nerve, even to having a muscle stuck between two ribs.  A sudden, intense pain would start in my heart area and would last anywhere from a few seconds to minutes.  I would be unable to move and would breathe shallow until it subsided.

The worst memory is of my sister and I on a ski trip.  We were having a great time until another “attack” started on the way home.  Our plane landed and my oldest daughter surprised us by meeting us at the airport.  The surprise, however, was on her when she saw me laying on a gurney, being loaded into an ambulance after I had collapsed.  In the hospital, a doctor came into the emergency room waving the paper from an ECG.  He promptly announced that I was having a heart attack.  I was thirty-seven years old.  I remember bargaining with God, telling Him I wasn’t ready to die.  Yet.

The “heart pain” continued . . . sometimes daily, sometimes weekly.

But it mysteriously disappeared when I faced my “crap”, all the nasty secrets that I had never shared with anyone.  Things like being sexually abused as a child.  Things like having an abortion.  Both of which, in my life, begot shame.  But shame cannot survive in an environment of nonjudgmental love.  My shame could not survive being spoken out loud.

It’s called disease.  Dis – Ease.  Therefore, if a person is not at ease with themselves, or in a deep, dark place feels shame, dis-ease can manifest . . .  I am NOT saying that everyone who has a disease has secrets!  God knows genetics, environment and a host of other things come into play.  But studies are showing that 85% of disease is rooted in unfelt and unacknowledged emotions.  Fear.  Shame. 

So, if you are the woman who was in the hospital room with me that day, before heading to Mexico for alternative treatment, I would encourage you to face any secrets in your past . . . find a trusted person you can share them with.  God will be there with you.  He already knows everything that has happened.  The disease might heal.  And if it doesn't?  The most important thing will be.  Your spirit.

The " - "

A few days ago, I visited my dad’s gravesite.  As I gazed at the tombstone, I was reminded of two things; the story of the "─", and a red walker.   

A man had visited his father’s gravesite and had taken his son with him.  His father and his son shared the same name . . . John Smith.  

“What do you think is the most important thing on this tombstone?” he asked his son.  As the son pondered seeing his own name on the tombstone, the father gave him a hint.  “It’s between the two dates.”  The son quizzically looked at his father.

“The headstone states your grandfather’s name, and the year of birth and the year of his death,” he explained.  “But the most important thing is the dash between the years . . . the "─".  Years from now, no one will remember anything about him.  No one will even know he existed, but what will count is what he did with his life.  His legacy will be what is left behind, be it good or bad.  If you believe in God, one day you will be asked what you did with your "─".

I continued to think about the "─" on Dad’s marker as I recalled the impact that a red walker had on my life.

Many years ago, I volunteered in a nearby nursing home.  My favorite thing was to gather the residents in the common area and read to them.

One night, I noticed a bright new shiny red walker outside one door as I knocked.

“I will call for someone to help me out of bed, Dear,” I heard from inside.

One couple lived together in the nursing home.  I said hello as they walked toward me, but their eyes did not meet mine.  They didn’t hear me.  They were fixated on the red walker.

The walker was red, and shiny, and new ─ the crème de la crème of walkers.  If BMW or Porsche had a walker in their line of cars, this was it.  It had a place to sit, a cup holder, the best brake pads, a place for "stuff" and a clear coat finish to boot.

Everything that I thought was important was flashing before me ─ hard work which would pay off in worldly possessions.  And the harder I worked, the more “stuff” I would accumulate; you know . . . things that would increase my sense of self-worth.

A lumped formed in my throat.  It was then that I came to realize that as life draws to a close, the things that seem important, like money, prestige, or power, will not matter.  If I'm lucky, I might have a room, a chest of drawers, and perhaps a shiny red walker. 

“Stuff” won’t matter anymore.  What will matter is how my life affected others . . . what will matter is what I did with my "─".

Flat Tires and Comets

:After becoming director of a pregnancy center, someone once said, “We want you to be a steady light ─ we don’t want you to be a comet streaking across the sky that is here for only a short time.”

There have been times when I have felt like I’m running out of gas.  So much so, that at one point, I thought about quitting at the center.  I called a mentor who is also a close friend.  She is my “go to” person when I need sound advice. 

“Where are you on a scale of one to ten with regard to your well-being for the following areas?"

1. Mental

2. Emotional

3. Physical

4. Relational

5. Spiritual

“I think I’m at a 6 for all of them, except spiritually I would say I’m at an 8 ─ but I’m having a hard time hearing God right now.”

She said if I was at a 6, my tires were 40% deflated.  She asked if I was okay with that.

“Yes, but I know from experience that tires don’t last long when they’re deflated.  And, of course, when tires are flat, you don’t go anywhere.”

As it turned out, I didn’t need to quit.  I needed a break.  And interestingly, big things started happening after the much-needed time off.  

Since then, I am forever cognizant of “burnout”.

At a recent conference, I listened to the words of a wise young man.  He told the story of a group of pioneers making the trek across the country to California.  They made sure they honored the Sabbath and rested every seventh day.  But they heard there were signs that winter was fast approaching.  An argument ensued.  It was decided they would split into two groups.  One part of the group would keep resting every seventh day, but the others would travel every day to ensure they crossed the mountains before winter.  Is the story of the tortoise and the hare coming to mind?

You guessed it.  The group that kept resting every seventh day made it first.  Why?  They had more energy to travel the six days per week . . .

That story resonated with me as I peered into my fuel tank which was, once again, running on fumes.

I decided right then and there to extend my upcoming time-off and take a summer sabbatical, no matter how much it cost me.  So as of 4:01 pm today, the resting starts.

Are you feeling tired?  Are you feeling like you’re hanging on by your fingernails?  Are you feeling like your light is extinguishing?  If you are unable to take an extended break from work, at least try to take one day off per week and RELAX . . .  Go for a walk . . .  Smell the flowers . . .  Look at the stars . . .

I plan on spending time looking at the stars and comets through my telescope.  I love comets.  But I don’t want to be one of them.

Broken pieces

We are all broken.  But for some, it comes in a different form.

A woman came into the Center to ask for advice.  She and her husband are contemplating adopting and she wanted to know what she could do to lessen the impact on the children.

She knew that I was adopted and that we have a program to help adults come to terms with their adoption experience.  We started it after uncovering research showing it’s not uncommon for adoptees to have unplanned pregnancies.  We wanted to help prevent this.  Not only do we have men and women in the program, but children as young as ten.   It has been amazing to watch them discover the feelings they didn’t know they had and the subconscious reasons behind some of their actions.  They begin to understand themselves.  They begin to understand that the truth does indeed set you free.

It made total sense to me that there would be unresolved grief in an adoptee.  Even though a child may be placed for adoption with great intentions, it does not mean there won’t be pain for both the birth mother, and the child.  I recalled asking a question at a function, “Would we tell someone who has lost a child to not worry because they can get another one?”  That would be incredibly unfeeling!  Yet that’s what we’re saying to adoptees.  “You shouldn’t feel any grief about your birth mother no longer being around – here’s another one to take her place.”  We take it even further by saying, “You should be grateful.” 

I am extremely grateful.  But I also recognized a very deep root of trauma in myself. 

Generally, we think it’s just a baby, and as babies, we can’t remember anything.  Actually that’s not true…

Apparently a human brain takes twenty-five years to become fully developed.  But the limbic portion of our brain, the emotional memory box, is almost fully formed when we are born.  If something traumatic happens when we’re small, we may not remember it, but we “remember” it.  It is fully stamped on our emotions and souls, hence the term – The earlier the trauma, the more the effect. 

It stands to reason, then, that there would be unresolved pain and that the person would have no idea where it was stemming from.

The woman and I talked about always “being with” the child in their emotions and thoughts, allowing them a safe place to feel and “grieve” without judgement.

At the end of the appointment, we prayed that God would give her great wisdom and discernment to enable her to be the best parent possible for her future children.  As we prayed, I told her of something I had written as I progressed on my own journey through the adoptee program at the Center.  In a letter to my birth father (never to be sent), I wrote, “I am almost through this…  I am almost fully restored.  I am no longer broken…. Psalm 31:13 says ‘I am forgotten, out of mind like the dead; I am like a shattered dish.’  I was shattered.  But God has been so patient with me.  He has glued all the pieces back together and we are together now just waiting for everything to dry.…”

Through her tears she said, “I know that these children are broken… but I’m praying that there won’t be so many pieces.”

One thing I’ve learned: If broken pieces are properly mended, the place of brokenness becomes stronger than the rest.

If you want to learn more about this issue, you can listen to this month's interview on The Rock.  It includes a big AHA moment that the interviewer had:

Melony with her monthly talk at The ROCK 98 Five in Yorkton, SK.

Rotten Houses

Last year, my husband and I decided to install new windows and siding on our home.  It was sixty-five years old.  An addition had been added many moons ago, but everything needed to be replaced.  We had kept putting it off….  We signed a contract for the work but decided to remove the siding ourselves to save $$$. 

It was eerie.  As the siding came off, spots were uncovered where windows used to be on the old portion of the house, and the old, old, original siding was underneath that! 

An analogy began to form in my mind of myself and others. 

When reminded of things that happened in my life that I didn’t like to think about, I would “board up the window” so that I wasn’t forced to look out of it anymore.  Of course, I hoped the board would never come off.

As we continued to remove the siding, I noticed some rotten boards here and there.  “Oh great!” I said, “These will need replacing which will add cost.”  Someone replied, “You don’t have to replace those – they will get covered with the new siding.”  Not a good plan.  Again I thought of the emotional wounds we have; “rotten boards” that we don’t think cause damage.  As long as it looks good on the outside….

The contractor began his work.  There was more “rot” than what had been anticipated, in fact, a large portion of one wall needed replacing, then another.  Others thought the porch smelled musty, but we could never smell it.  After the walls were replaced, the smell was gone.  THAT reminded me AGAIN of us refusing to look at our wounds.  Some of us emit such an odor.  As a result, not only do we make unhealthy choices, we can attract others who emit the same odor…

Some spots were so shoddy that in a few years, there would’ve been major damage.  So much so, that the house probably would’ve been abandoned.  (Read what you want into that!)  My husband and I had been in denial as to how bad it really was.

All the work on the house was frustrating and a real pain at times, but it was desperately needed. 

I am SO glad that I allowed God to become my General Contractor.  Having Him use various people to help me remove rotten boards has been painful.  But it was needed…otherwise my whole foundation may have collapsed. 

The house now smells great.  AND you can see clearly out of the windows, which are now letting in the Son.

Balloons...

As Executive Director of a Crisis Pregnancy Center, I see people in emotional pain. Every day.

One of the main focuses of every program that we have is for people to come to a place of forgiveness for those who have hurt them.  Sometimes, the forgiveness is for unspeakable things.  Sometimes, I don't sleep well after hearing these things.  

One of the questions I inevitably ask is, "Does God have any conditions in forgiving you?"  Typically, the answer is no, God has no conditions.  But does He?

In the Lord's prayer, we pray "Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who have trespassed against us." 

Mark 11:26 says "But if you do not forgive, neither will your Father in heaven forgive your transgressions."  Ouch.

Whenever I think of this, a picture forms in my mind.  I'm holding a large number of helium balloons which will lift me closer to God.  But in my other hand, I have a hook.  And that hook is in the people that I have not yet forgiven for hurting me or my family.  As long as my "bitterness" hook remains, I will not allow myself to draw closer to God.  So, in reality, this is not about my relationship with the person who has trespassed against me.  It is about my relationship with God.  I need to pray for those who have hurt me, but if they remain unrepentant, they will inevitably have to answer not to me...but to God, the Maker of the Universe.

As I shared the picture with a man this week, a different image formed in his mind.  He said, "I'm getting the picture of two or three large helium-filled balloons which represent a few people in my life that I have not forgiven.  Each time I choose not to forgive, one of the balloons breaks.  If my bitterness continues to grow, soon I will have no balloons left..."

Suddenly, I had more incentive to forgive...