The Sabbath and sweet autumn leaves
10/19/2003 11:17 p.m.

Oh, what a day of glorious sunshine on the leaves and the sweet smells of autumn beneath the rays, warming me from my miserable flu and moments of feeling down, preoccupied, stressed. Church this morning was splendid, and I’d missed it so in the last few weeks. We are an amazingly tight, strong family at our church, particularly the women, but there are plenty of delightful and endearing people of all ages, both sexes, and the children are phenomenal.
Humour and informality always lighten the services, and there is an incredible level of intelligence, talent and creativity overall.

We are familiarizing ourselves with (and helping him to do so with us), our new minister (temporary), plus our new musical director (temporary too). I am enjoying Daniel’s leading us in his gentle, giving way, while at the same time I inevitably miss the preceding minister, but not in a comparative competitively rating fashion, but he had been so receptive and inspiring to me at a crucial time, and to many others. He facilitated my return to my girlhood church so beautifully soon after my lymphoma remission began, four years ago, and it was a time when I so wanted to return. It had been a driving dream of mine throughout my hospital stays, but when I first was back home permanently (more or less) recuperating and starting over, I couldn’t bear exposure to many with colds, etc. possible, to catch, as my counts were low and my immune system, so I waited a while. But the visit to the November Bazaar in which I met the minister at the time, who chatted with me and was so informal and welcoming, cinched the deal for me. And I never looked back.

Luckily, he lives in my ’hood and we keep in touch, even on e-mail, as he does with anyone from the congregation who chooses. And I must say our current minister is stepping in with an open, reverent (pardon the pun) attitude to the fact that many of us were very distressed to see our former one leave, but that we are not resentful or closed off to the new one, who had nothing to do with that change. He’s humourous, understanding, and revelatory of his own trials in life, and his own happy family life etc. And addicted to his banjo, which he plays for the kids and all of us, and has much to give and teach.

When I have to miss for a few Sundays for illness, visiting or other matters, I really miss it. Not from guilt or any oppressive expectations, it’s not like that there. But because I find it fulfills so much of a need in me, at this time of life. In truth, I always loved Sunday School and Church, as a young girl. Don’t laugh, but I wanted to grow up to be a ballerina-missionary, (somehow combining the two seemed natural) and when I’d wish upon a star at night, and say my prayers, that’s what I’d vow to be. I don’t know if I imagined myself doing arabesques and jettes and such across the terrains of the Third World, and somehow spreading the Good Word at the same time, or what, but I am a direct descendant of David Livingstone, so maybe that had something to do with it? And ballet was a big part of my life then, (later switched to drama, and writing). I still love to watch dance, and incorporate it into my yoga sessions, or private dance parties in my room.

Anyway, today I did what I’d been meaning to a while now. I filled out and submitted a prayer request, for my brother-in-law (my sister's beloved hubby and a long-time friend of the family)suffering advanced multiple myleoma (bone marrow cancer) for which he’s now hospitalized and has received his first transplant, but now enduring terrible side effects) and for a woman friend too.

He just had a transfusion.

I know we don’t have to write such pleas on little papers for God to hear us and know and care, doing all he can to help in the cause. But there is scientific evidence now that patients who receive a lot of prayers can do better, this has been reported in medical journals. So having a congregation sharing in the support can’t hurt, right? When I was very ill I received prayers and notices of them said by both the Roman Catholic church via an aunt who’s a nun, a dear dear lady, who gave this Protestant patient little cards of Elisabeth Bruyere (a Saint who one of our hospitals is named after) and Mary, etc. and I still treasure them and use them.

And another aunt and uncle of the Protestant order (we talk about these divisions, and all feel they are made far too much of) who had their congregation say prayers for me too. Of course family and friends did too, and also gave me many of my little angel collection which I still add to.

So my spirits are helped by the feeling of togetherness when trials and sad tests are faced. Like the loss of my dear dear Tom, in July.

I mustn’t get started on these matters now, but one day I will share the Talks with Tom poems and stories in a chapbook or novel. He is with me always, and I still talk to him of course, but miss him in person, enormously.
Things are picking up for the little sick Angel at home (our Maltese of l5 yrs who has congestive heart failure, (controlled by meds and diet) and sometimes edema on the lung). It was a tough last few days though, after her latest attack and rush to the vet's, with her gasping and looking pretty scared, as I drove her over there, plus with my flu and laryngitis.

Family is so strengthening (as are dear friends) and my daughter Valerie deciding to cook and serving me noodles and sauce or soup, when I was unwell, as I lay on the couch, was so touching. Often she'd ask me if I was alright. Both of our kids have memories of me barely able to breathe in my worst stages, so they are attentive, without coddling.

Her move back home is turning out wonderfully, overall, and at 22 and after 2 years away in Montreal in University, she brings back so much to this home life again and it's much more full of energy and intrigue now. Sure, we had emotional ups and downs in the re-adjustment and trying to get everything done well in a hurry. Computers and servers' disconnection problems being the greatest pain in the process, and their bad timing of acting up during the early stages of her university, and my busy writing fall. But it's been great for my husband too. Now that the worst of the renovations are behind us, and the boxes put away for the most. We still have a telescope in the front room, but hey, that is kind of fun and different. Sort of like Admiral Boom's home in Mary Poppins, though it's not on the roof.

We're a family who’ve suffered many trials of health and disability, (three major illnesses) and we all have strong individual minds, so it’s not always easy.
But we go on in our crazy, busy, hard-working way. Trying to improve communications sometimes (often) necessary, but we're truly blessed on the whole. Especially for our kids, even though they are my toughest editors and critiquers in a way. They keep me honest, (most of the time) and more conscious, of what I say and do. And how it affects people. I do the same for them I think

Valerie and her dad are very close (so is her brother, with him, (as they are with me too) but he's currently living out of town still). Valerie's been grand company and a lovely support and fun with me. She even took me shopping for a friend's birthday gift last evening, and we had a good ole time hunting for the item, from store to store at Bayshore Mall, and deciding together on it. She actually found the best one, finally, of what I wanted and they're getting less available. I can't say what it is, since the recipient belongs here.


There is a great wealth in the togetherness though, obviously building us to better strength for the changes in life. My sister, mom, brothers, my husband and his family, and my son and his gal, are all part of the dynamics of knitted hearts too. Sure, we have tense times and hurt feelings, and make errors, all of us, but we are still growing and learning every day.

I am also well-fortified by my close friends, and those on here, fine neighbors, and poetry and writing itself, yoga and faith in the Superior Being. And the scenery outside, the beauty of a crisp lemony-crimsoned leaved day, or a walk like last week’s, up in the Gatineau Hills looking for a waterfall that turned out to be dried up, but also enjoying Kingsmere Estates and the ruins I visited as a little girl with my folks, and our young ones after that....perhaps soon they’ll bring theirs. I watched children sitting in the stone arches our former prime minister of long ago, MacKenzie King, imported to his country home by the lake there, and arranged in a fashion resembling ancient ruins, and remembered home movies of my sister and brothers and I sitting in those same arches. I have photos of our kids there too. Walking the trails with my son and his gal, who'd never been there before, on a rich fall morning, made up for all the camping I've missed at Bon Echo for two seasons now.

Well, on to my next draft, perhaps a word sonnet about the colours and the textures of Ottawa fall.
I am currently Devoted
I am listening to spirits