I'm so sorry

It seemed like the longest pregnancy on record.

So often when I call my daughter's cell phone she is at Jackie's. And I would always ask did Jackie have the baby? No not yet. It seemed like she had been pregnant for a year. Her due date had been changed multiple times.

When I saw her about 3 weeks ago she looked ready. Really ready.

Yesterday little Jonah who was going to be brother to 5 year old Noah...was stillborn.

Frances called me at work. All I could say was I'm so sorry and I cried. I kept the sobs on the inside. They were there. Heaving and crying out for the injustice and tragedy. I'm sorry for the loss. I'm sorry for the family. I'm so sorry.

It happened just after noon.

And on another floor of the hospital, were Jackie's parents. Her father had a heart attack at 9am. He survived and is stable.

Tell me if there is anything I can do, I said.

Pray, was her answer.

Open the Eyes of My Heart

This was the entry song at church tonight: Open the Eyes of My Heart (link to video that sounds almost as good as the youth choir...)

I am quite sure they have no idea, but there are certain families that just bring a tear to my eye at church. I don't know if I can even describe the feeling in words.

I was walking in with one of those families tonight: a dad and 5 boys. I think the oldest is about 13 and the youngest is 6. They remind me of a Daddy Duck and 5 ducklings. They always seem to form a line with Dad out in front. And of course that's how I see them go to communion, in the line. They are always reverent, well behaved, punctual and they are there every Sunday.
Sometimes Mom is with them but not often. This is the Sunday night Life Teen Mass at 7pm. Using my imagination I figure she attends an earlier mass when they were all sleeping in and uses this time when they are all gone to clean up after dinner or get ready for the week ahead. (Me and my imagination.)
When I see them I have to stop myself from staring. Their clothes are casual and always clean, usually jeans and t-shirts (this is the Life Teen mass after all). And Dad has a long gray pony tail that goes halfway down his back.
Sometimes they talk quietly amongst themselves or one or two get up to go to the washroom.
What is it about them that fascinates and touches me all at the same time? A father leading his sons in spiritual example. In our world right now it seems so rare.

And the fathers holding babies....that's when I lose it. (I've got to remember to bring tissues.) Dads holding squirming toddlers or walking with them at the back while the little one grasps a finger or two, trusting Dad to lead them. The scenes of these fathers are so special.

The apparent love and tenderness just simply moves me.

And gives me hope for the future.

Then He opened their minds to understand the scriptures...
~~Luke 24:45

Happy 25th

My daughter Frances is licensed to use scissors. I gave birth to a Hairstylist.

She did the apprenticeship and passed the exam so I thought I would pay a visit to the small town where she styles young and old alike. It's the shop at "the stoplight". Yes there is only one in "Hair-O". (Locals will get that joke.)
I brought lunch from the city: a chicken shwarma sandwich which she dramatically held high before devouring. I didn't hold the garlic and wondered how the clients would react later in the day. Oh well. I brought her a Starbucks too. I know the way to her heart.



It's a sunny shop, clean as a whistle with those wooden creaky floors I remember from stores as a child; the charm of a small town salon.



She's as sharp as her scissors in seeing to the clients needs, noticing immediately when "Sally" was crossing the street with her walker and running out to meet her or making time for the senior on a bike who was doing errands "in town" for his ailing wife. "A trim will take no time at all" and she fit him in between my shampoo and style.
I loved seeing her in action, using the tools of her trade. Some know and love her for her scalp massage technique.
Some are taken with her up do's and flair for colour. I personally love her cuts. She gets it just right.

As I post this on her 25th birthday, I can reminisce about the girls lined up in my living room to get their hair done for semi formal. Or the Barbies who got their shampoos done in the bathtub. It is her art.

She tells me about life and work in a small agricultural town: how busy they are when there's a wedding or graduation that everyone is attending, the joy of getting fresh free range organic eggs with massive yolks, the gifts of greenhouse flowers.
It's a bit of a commute but she's going the opposite way to traffic since most are coming into the city. She's seeing more people that have stopped getting their hair done here in the city and are looking local for service. Business is growing.

I can't help but think they see her "city style" and decide to become loyal clients. Usually it's the mom who starts and before long the whole family is coming.
I enjoy the stories like the teen who came by and said "Did you do so and so's hair?" Bam. New client. Or the ones who know what days she is there and drop in without an appointment.

She realized her income went up when she started just saying "Yes". Yes, I'll fit you in, yes, I'll stay late for you, yes, I'll give you the cut, colour, style you want.
It's not just the talent, it's the business too. The learning continues.

Happy 25th Birthday Frances!! And thanks for the last cut. I love it. And I love you.

What if Susan Boyle couldn't sing?

This question was posed by a writer for the Chicago Tribune (click to read full article).

But the lesson I'd hope we take from Susan Boyle is that people deserve respect, however strange they are, even if they don't have talent.

Here's a link to Susan singing Cry Me a River. Wow.

Britain's Got Talent

Please watch Susan Boyle....this is a very moving performance!

@ Yahoo! Video

I dreamed a dream in time gone by
When hope was high
And life worth living
I dreamed that love would never die
I dreamed that God would be forgiving.

Then I was young and unafraid
And dreams were made and used
And wasted
There was no ransom to be paid
No song unsung
No wine untasted.

But the tigers come at night
With their voices soft as thunder
As they tear your hope apart
As they turn your dream to shame.

And still
I dream he'll come to me
That we will live the years together
But there are dreams that cannot be
And there are storms
We cannot weather...

I had a dream my life would be
So different form this hell I'm living
so different now from what it seemed
Now life has killed
The dream I dreamed.

Thanks to 50's Housewife for sharing this gem.

Happy Easter

A Blessed Easter to All!

A Love Story for the Ages

It is with joy that I share a post from my blog friend Ginger Carter Miller, the story of 2 people who shared a love so strong they left this world within 2 days of each other...

David, their strong and wonderful son, put it this way. "Daddy's job was to take care of Mother. When he'd made all the arrangements for her service, his work here was done, so he went to join her."

to read the full story click here