grace

Sister Time

I am sitting on an airplane flying over the rocky mountains enrtoute to Regina. I have just spent about four days with my sister Jan, they were action packed days that created moments that I hope to remember.

Part of the purpose of my trip was to attend a concert that Jan invited me to. It was a Christmas concert featuring a handbell choir she has been conducting for the last year. Making her vision for the concert happen involves so much. I saw Jan juggling a huge number of human dynamics and also logistics. I have a fun anecdote to tell from the pre concert hours. Setting the stage for this story means telling you that Jan and her husband Ray and dog Belle live on the 24^th floor of a condominium in Port Moody. Elevators are a part of their everyday life. So it was that on concert day Jan and I worked as a team to get everything she needed for the unfolding of the concert out of their home, to the elevator, down 25 floors and into her car in the underground parkade. With some strategy we managed it in one trip. A cool experience began when the elevator doors opened to let us in. From what I could see I could not imagine that we would fit on, there was already 3 people and a dog on the elevator. However Jan and the other occupants didn’t hesitate to make the adjustments so that we could all fit on. I followed Jan as she pulled her wheeled cart on, and as I followed her I turned the electric piano I was carrying on its end, it was tight quarters but we were all on. I was fairly stunned when we stopped at another floor and a woman with her dog was waiting to get on. I totally expected someone would say, “oh no there is already a dog on and hardly room for another, you catch the next one.” There was none of that. We all just shifted and in she came with the dog, the dogs reacted to each other but were well contained by their owners and there wasn’t a sniff of trouble. I stood there enjoying the whole darn thing. By the time we got to the ground level six adults, two dogs, a wheeled cart full of Jan’s concert supplies (bags and bags of homemade treats for her ringers among the load), and a big gear bag holding a piano turned on its side had traveled about sixteen floors together. Among the adults I sensed there was a lot of diversity, for example one of the people was wearing a hoodie that said, “Hungover and Horny”. As Jan and I headed to her car I said, “well I think I might have just had my favorite moment of the trip.” She had some funny words to reply with, noting my favorite moment had nothing to do with what she had prepared for me, but letting me off the hook for my wacky statement. The thing is, my sense of my world is that people are pretty cautious about other people being in their space, fearful of conflicts, and on edge. Those moments reflected the opposite and they were a bit of a balm for my soul. Humans were accepting each other, compromising their space, managing their loads in order to make space even when none seemed to exist. I simply loved it.

But that was before the concert and so my favorite moment was soon superseded by other moments. I was so incredibly proud of Jan as I witnessed the various pieces of her planning coming together, I can’t get into the details of it here but its super complicated to make a handbell concert happen as there are so many moving pieces. Jan is committed to make the experience as good as possible for her 20 or so ringers, she is deeply concerned about the experience of the audience and passionate about musicality. So when each number ended and she turned to acknowledge her ringers to the audience, she had a mega watt smile that radiated her deep joy at what they had just done together. To see your sister so enlivened and joyful and to see her giving so much to other people so that they have opportunities is a really big deal, makes for really memorable moments. With my sentimental lenses on there is also the reality that our parents planted the seeds of this action in Jan and would be so unbelievably proud of what she is doing and how she is doing it.

Another thing about my trip is that it created some chances for some deep thinking. The concert itself gave me pretty good fodder for a decent sermon about teamwork. However, one new thing I was prompted to think about came from a facebook post Jan made the evening I arrived. It included a video snippet of her surprising me at the baggage carousel at the airport. I had thought we were meeting outside. She snuck up on me. It was really fun to experience her mischeviousness. Comments on her reel included feedback that Jan has a really awesome family. She does and the comment got me thinking. For the sake of honesty I find myself wanting to say, it was not and is not always like that. We don’t struggle as much as we used to but we still have to work at being mature about our needs, communicating well and giving each other grace and its not just always sunshine and roses. As I was sitting having a think I found myself wondering, what has made it possible to get past the tough times? One thing that came to me, and I am not sure if this is true but it struck me that it is, is that we have all been working on ourselves. We have all had to say, “I do not have my act together like I would like to, I can shift this, I will let myself grow, I will let myself be touched and changed by wisdom, people and processes I trust.” When you sense people you love trying to grow more whole it is not too hard to cut them some slack and take steps towards each other instead of building a wall. That’s all I have to say about that.

Despite the exhaustion arising from the concert day Jan made an offer to me, to get on a ferry on Sunday after church and go to Nanaimo to visit our nephew and his family. I jumped at that chance. It was a great decision. I loved being on the ferry. Loved it. I loved seeing Brock, he is my first born nephew and I am one of his godparents. He is quite a delight and it is a gift to see him. Tamara his wife and Ryker his seven month old son were the other shining stars in this visit. Brock and Tam are some of the most nature oriented people that I know. It should not have been a surprise to Jan and I that they would want to go out for a walk once we got there, we in our church clothes. Jan and I figured we were up for a walk, picturing the stroller, the city streets and walking four abreast down some quiet streets. When we got out the front door, wearing Brock’s footwear and rain jackets, we didn’t load Ryker into a stroller we got in the car. I figured we were heading to a park. We were heading up the mountain. With Ryker on Brock’s back, and Tam bringing up the rear, we did a hike, to a really special spot for them. It was raining quite hard at times, Brock said we had 45 minutes of daylight left, we made the most of it. Like Jan brought me into her world of music and leadership, Brock and Tam swept us up into their deep joy with the forest and the hills. Jan and I decided afterwards that we should feel really proud of ourselves, not because we survived the hike in the midst of weariness, but because our nephew looked at his two aunties and didn’t question our ability to do it, he looked at us and said, “lets go!” I have to say, that feels great to ponder.

I am now sitting in a library at the U of R. Jill is in a study carrel behind me prepping for an exam. I am waiting til winds gusting to 90km/hr settle down before hitting the road back to the ranch. I am content and I am smiling as I think about the people that Jan introduced me to over these last few days. She has some really nice friends with a mixture of traits, ages, backgrounds and passions. It makes the world more human and fun to remember the moments I was invited into their worlds. In the course of my brief trip I was offered food and or drink in five different living rooms. One of them was a birthday party for one of Ray’s friends from the early days. Held in a home shaped by devout Catholic faith and Italian culture, I had the best cocktail and the best lasagna I have ever eaten. I felt loved and welcomed. My world is a bit bigger because of all the characters Jan introduced me to and I received a refresher in the wisdom I have been shown over and over in life, “just be yourself, let your unique self out, don’t be afraid of the “normal” world criticizing you, life is better when we let people see us.”

So that was my December 2025 trip to Vancouver, I would like to be a groupie and be at Jan’s next Fusion Handbells concert in May, but we will be deep in calving season. Russ could and did handle the ranch without me this time, in the midst of horrible cold weather and with extra duties placed on his shoulders in my absence. I am grateful he takes on the extra and gives me his blessing when trips like this are possible. It won’t be the same in May when those babies are coming. I will want to be near.

Here are some pictures to give a glimpse of some of the action..

Arrival at Vancouver airport after an easy direct flight from Regina.

The video Jan posted of her hi-jinks.

We took in some beautiful Christmas lights, this was part of a display placed around a small lake. I felt like I was in the middle of a Hallmark movie.

Jan, Ray and I just before the concert. Ray was the M.C. I got to see the many varied ways he did behind the scenes work to make the concert and our sister time possible on the same weekend.c

I love what the wind is doing to my hair in this ferry moment.

Brock and his son, we are about to get on the trail.

The two aunties, finding their strength.

At the U of R having lunch with Jill after our morning in the library. I love being on a campus.

Over a month ago I started this blog, the timing in it may seem odd as you read it.

Our boy Morgan is not a boy anymore, that seems to be getting quite official in the days after his 18th birthday, sliding into his grade 12 graduation.

In the midst of the storm that is created by the converging of very special days, calving season weariness and my personal limits as a woman inching closer to 60, I received a gift of grace. Our friends Patrick and Jenn were happy to host a joint graduation party for Morgan and his friend Rhett, Patrick’s son. It is hard to fully relate how much of a relief this was for Russ and I. We want to celebrate Morgan with all the bells and whistles he deserves but for a few reasons we are not doing well with getting that kind of action going. This party, at their place, with overall co-ordination by Pat was such a help to Russ and I. I have a few pictures.

We had this cake made at the Oxbow Co-op. It was delicious!

We have many shared friends with Griff and his circle, the party made sense, but we also were able to invite folks like Bonnie and Roy. They have been a part of Morgan’s life always, and have helped fill the holes left by our losses.

Morg and Griff cut the cake, Grandma Shirley absolutely loved watching them tackle this. “No two pieces were the same size!” she said. We agreed that was good, for varying appetites.

Old friends seeing one another was a splendid part of the night.

I learned something about entertaining this night. Pat was organized and relaxed and it made a great setting. I usually try to pack too much in when I entertain, guests find me rushing, perhaps flustered, maybe quite readily inclined to swear under my breath at the slightest hiccup or frustration. Pat did things a little differently than I do, this contributed to the relaxed feeling. Once the food was laid out he invited people to eat whenever they were ready. This meant no lines and also a sense that the meal wasn’t the main event, being together was. I got the message, “lets enjoy being together and when you are hungry, there is food over there.” I can say food wasn’t the main event but it had been beautifully prepared, and there was abundance. The smoked meat and salads were an event, just not the main event. That’s how it felt to me. The main event was our boys, our pride in them, and our desire to celebrate them with those who love them almost as much as we do.

I am thankful to Pat and Jen, they gave me an experience of warm relaxed hospitality and celebration and also significantly helped Russ and I with what was on our plate.

In the days since I started this blog both boys have officially graduated and summer is here. Here are the graduates on their special days….

Morgan receives his diploma from the vice principal who happens to be his good buddies Mom, Mrs. Wolf.

This was Griff’s grad day and Pat is seen helping with the finishing touches on the outfit.

At the parade held after the Carnduff grad ceremonies it was getting a bit chilly, here Jen and Clare are ready and waiting for the floats to go by. I think they were both pretty proud of Morgan but especially Jen. She has been a major friend, supporter and source of fun to Morgan perhaps for as long as he can remember.

Grace was the word that came to mind as the summary theme and title for this blog because Morgan, Russ and I didn’t really do our share in the work for the party that Pat and Jen held. There was no tallying of hours spent in prep or dollars spent on food, but if there had been I know it would show that we did not do our share. There was one rule we all seemed to grasp, “do what you can.” Maybe there was another rule, one that I had trouble grasping, “don’t worry.” Maybe this is what it means to live in a state of grace more generally speaking. We don’t have to be superheroes, who are remarkably efficient, flexible and impressive, we just have to do what we can, and surround ourselves with others who are doing what they can, we give and receive, and trust that will be enough, that we are enough and we don’t need to worry about that. Graduation 2025 held a good lesson for me, it was a lesson that lines up with my faith but I have a hard time really living and believing. It is, “just do what you can Kathy, receive from others and me – God, don’t worry if you are enough, you are.”

A different week

We are having a different week around here and that calls for a different kind of week in review post.

When the kids were really small we fell into a pattern that has continued to this day. That pattern is about days of the week and saying grace. At the table, “grace” is another word for a prayer of thanks that gets said before the meal. As an ordained minister I often get called upon to offer the grace at meals outside our home. I would rather not be the expert on call regarding this, not when we all have the ability to speak and thoughts in our heads. Most especially not when in God’s heart noone’s word matters more than another. (In our way of understanding). So, one inspired day the plan emerged that the day of the week that one of us was born would be our day to be responsible for grace.

Morgan was born on a Monday, so that is his day to decide if he will say grace himself, delegate the leadership to another, or lead in a spoken or sung prayer that we all join in. Most times Morgan says it himself, it is very short and to the point, and it usually includes the word “awesome.” He used to give thanks for awesome food but these days usually doesn’t mention the food and gives thanks for the work that got done that day. His sincerity is there so while I might rib him about not caring about the food, I am just glad it goes as well as it does.

So Monday is Morgan’s day. What is going on in Morgan’s life these days and how did it get started? Morgan is knee deep in cowboy realities. On Monday this week I helped him with roping practice by using my car to pull his roping dummy around the back area. (The picture below). He helped at two different horse sales this week and has done lots of hours on his horse looking after our herd. We has been given alot of responsibility this week and has carried it well.

So that is how this week went for Morgan, now a little flashback to how it all got started.

When Morgan was about eight months old Russ took him on his saddle for the tail end of a ride up the road to the ranch, Russ and a crew were chasing horses home. Russ figures that maybe the ranch boss (his Dad) had been over optimistic about what could get done in a day and this chase was therefore ending in the dark. There is a dip in the road just west of our place and it was therefore with some horror that Russell realized that a big oil tanker was coming fast towards them. He knew that driver would never see a herd of black Percheron horses in the dark, with the dip in the road making them invisible to the trucker. He therefore gripped Morgan tightly and galloped to the front where he could get the drivers attention and get him to slow down. Morgan didn’t cry but seemed exhilerated Russ says.

Tuesday is Gina’s day. She was born at 2:19am on a Tuesday. My memory of having Gina around the table is that she preferred the sung graces. We have one called “The Brown Cow”, I believe she preferred that one because of some humor that Russ injected into it. There is a line, “thank the pig for the bacon on the grill,” one day he told the kids we should always check the road for runaway pigs at that line, so when we are feeling up to it even yet there is a little extra action at that point. Anyways, on Gina’s day we can report in that she is delighting in her horses she is working with. She sent this picture this week. She and another staff had clipped this horse’s legs and Gina took a picture of Oedsen and Rachel. Afterwards he was intent on looking at the picture. I wonder what was going through Gina’s head as she offered her phone to show show him the picture. It is really making her smile.

This is an old picture of Gina but captures what is on her mind these days. She has been staying late at work and watching the knights doing sword fighting practice. This picture was taken at school in Victoria. She loves stage combat, and especially sword work.

How did all this get started?

Gina was riding solo and defying gravity from an early age. Often we would put Abba singing “Dancing Queen” on in the background and she would jolly jump with such happiness.

Wednesday is Russell’s day. He was born on a Thursday but back when we got the prayer schedule figured out he had Lion’s Club meetings at supper time every 2nd week. I thought I was born on a Thursday, (I was wrong), so I took Thursday and Russ took Wednesday and it has stayed that way to this day. Russ is always very grateful in his prayers, sometimes goofy and does the best job of any of us of thinking about people that can’t be with us.

These days Russ is thinking about cow chase work quite a bit. It is a fairly big deal to be organized for the six weeks that are ahead. Liz Griffin took this picture of Russ on the trail last year. The background behind this picture is that he has co-ordinated a multitude of pieces to be working in a pretty fine tuned manner.

What did all this look like almost 30 years ago?

Russell’s friend Lee took this picture. I think this illustrates pretty well how things were in the earlier part of Russell’s life with horses. It was a pretty wild situation for a long time and from the stories I have heard it seemed Russ really enjoyed that. This particular moment is described by Russ like this, “this is Comanche who turned out to be one of my best horses, I still dream about him and when I get to heaven this is the horse I want to ride. In this picture I was training him, he was in the midst of several bucks and I had not yet landed back in the saddle.”

Thursday is my assigned day for prayer at meals. It turns out that I was born on a Tuesday, already Gina’s day, so mistakenly assigning myself Thursday works okay. I almost always make up a fresh prayer, based on what the action is that day and the blessings we have known. I always says at the end, “may this food strengthen us to be people of love and peace in your world,” or something close to that. It feels important to me. Anyways, reporting in on my day of the week, my life is pretty much revolving around stories these days. More specifically, words. More specifically, getting progress made on the book I am writing. That has meant alot of weaving. Bringing history, words, hopes, and new information altogether. The book is about ranching in relationship to the world. It uses Liz Griffin’s photographs for great illustration of key points. Today I learned that 1% of the world’s population does the work that feeds the other 99%. We are part of that 1%. That feels really meaningful. It will find its way into the book. I don’t have a picture of me at my computer lately. But these words tell you how its going. I do have access to some old pictures that illumine how it all started.

This fuzzy picture doesn’t surprise me to see. I have loved the words in books for as long as I can remember. I believe I was two in this picture.

This picture from a few years later catches me doing one of my favorite things in my childhood, playing with our Fisher Price toys. I always loved the chance to set the stage for stories to unfold.

Friday is the day of the week that Russell and I got married. So that is our day to pray, we pretty casually, on the spot, figure out who is up for making prayer happen on this day, but its one of us, because this is an us day.

And what did it look like when it was all getting started? Like this…..we went to Brandon on one of our first dates, we were in search of some Tim Horton’s coffee and Estevan didn’t have any in 1999. Russ showed me the swinging bridge at Souris on the way home. One of us had a camera and got these moments in time.

It seems kind’ve appropriate that I was wearing Bar MW yellow on this day.

Jilly was born at noon hour on a Saturday so she is the boss of prayer on Saturdays. Jill’s life is very touched by music these days, as it has been for most of her life. She most often chooses a sung prayer for grace. This week she has been learning the music necessary to be part of the vocal chorus for the next Sterling Production in Regina. (Rocky Horror Picture Show). She will be auditioning soon for the Christmas musical. She is relieving her brain of all the words and choreography she learned for Seussical and moving on. She sent us this picture of herself and one of her people after the Seussical shows.

How did it all start? With a passion for fun outfits, costumes, movies, musical theatre, dance and an interest in piano, cello, guitar, fiddle and singing that has never gone very far from her heart.

By Sunday everyone but Buster the cat and Ron our hired man have had a turn so we often will use silent prayer. We each just say what is on our minds, in the quiet of our thoughts. I like that.

Is there a picture to go with that? Maybe this one?

It is amazing to think about this table, the weeks that have passed that saw the five of us pulling up a chair day after day, the sights that Buster has seen, and those that have pulled up a chair to join us. Very often some of the first words they heard at our table were “whose day is it?” I suppose I will spend the rest of my life thinking of Monday, Tuesday and Saturday as my kids’ special days. Perhaps the biggest grace in my life has been the chance to walk their journey’s with them.

How do you solve a problem like Kaklika?

A piece of art at the convent that really touched me.

In a recent blog I spoke about finding my way to taking a vacation in a convent in Toronto. In this blog I want to write about a learning that came up as that unfolded.

What happened at the convent is part of the story, the rest happened earlier this spring. The earlier part happened when I was talking with someone I love alot and I don’t get to talk to in a personal way very often at all. My go to approach when I want to bond with someone is to ask them questions and try and listen well. As this conversation unfolded I became very curious about how a particular part of their life story unfolded. I asked questions. Unfortunately my questions were not received as they were meant, an invitation to share. I was given the feedback that my questions were received as implying that this person was not qualified to be where they are, and it felt to them like I was judging them. I was kind’ve shocked. I back pedalled, explained, and apologized for the impression given. We parted ways for a bit, a half hour where my own brain kicked in and said, “wait a minute, I am the one that should be offended, you think that I am sitting here, a person who loves you, and my whole agenda is judgment?!?!?!” It was tough. When we reunited a little later words of apology and a hug set things straight. For me, a big piece of this, besides sadness at how confusing things can get with human relationships, the big piece was me having that “wait a minute!” moment. The moment where I claimed back a little space for myself. Where I said, “hey, just cause someone is upset doesn’t mean I am the problem.”

Fast forward to Friday night and the tables were turned. It was me expecting judgment from someone, when I had no real reason to and I suddenly understood a bunch of the subtle layers of this earlier encounter better.

I arrived in Toronto before lunch on Friday. My cousin Doug picked me up at the airport and we joined my cousin Lori, my Uncle Ted and his love Susan at their condo. It was so nice to see my family again, it had been a long while.

Uncle Ted married my Mom’s sister Carol. In 2006 Auntie Carol lost her battle with brain cancer. It was a pleasure to meet Susan on this trip and be warmly welcomed to her home.

Our visit was cut short by the reality that I needed to check in at the convent between 2-4 pm. I couldn’t really imagine that anything in Toronto could be more than an hour away on the subway but Doug knew full well. With his insight the visit with my family ended in time, hopefully, to get me to the convent door by 4pm. It was a rushed ending and I felt badly about that. As Doug was braving the Friday afternoon Toronto traffic getting me to the closest subway station he got a phone call. It was Lori, I had forgotten my laptop. With the traffic and the deadline we opted not to turn back. Something else would have to get figured out.

It did….Doug drove it all the way to the convent the next day. I took this picture because I told him I needed a record of my knight in shining armor. He downplayed it.

Back to Friday afternoon….with a little help I figured out the ticket situation and got myself and my luggage onto a subway train. Got off that one and successfully transfered to the next before an ominous announcement happened. There was a fire up the tracks somewhere and it meant the whole thing was coming to a halt and everyone had to evacuate. I made my way to the surface. As I remember it I kind’ve stumbled into the sunlight on Yonge street absolutely unclear as to what I should do next. I had already called the convent and gotten permission to arrive a bit late. How late could I push that? After discovering that due to increased demand an Uber would cost 72$ I opted for a bus. But a call to the convent to check in had the guest house coordinator checking TTC for me and telling me the good news that the line was up and running again. It felt like a miracle. I went back down below and with little extra drama arrived at the spot where I could transfer to a bus for the last leg of my journey and make my way to the convent. I was 50 minutes late. I got checked in and had a half hour before the next thing. Not evening prayer or supper with the sisters, but getting back on the bus to meet friends a little ways down Yonge St. I really really overscheduled this travel day but one of my friends was leaving town the next day, this was it if we were to see each other. At this point I was feeling really badly because I didn’t want the sisters to think that I was treating their convent like a hotel. But I was flitting in late and rushing out again to go to a bar. They didn’t know that but I did.

The time with my friends was superb. These women and I travelled many miles together in 1991 as our Up With People cast made its way to many places in North America and Europe. Our organization’s goal was to improve understanding between cultures. Kindv’e intense stuff and it meant our cast became close. On Friday night I got to see 2 of my closest friends from the cast. It was fantastic to see each other. It was not one of those quick 1.5 hour get to-gethers. It took the whole evening to get ourselves caught up.

So it was that at 10:45pm I was spilling out of an Uber in front of the convent and finding myself in a pickle. The outside door was locked. It was my first night at the convent, I thought I knew all I needed to know about security because I had the keycode. As I was to discover that code reader was behind a locked door. I was not without options. I sent a text to the number I had. Waited. No answer. I sat on the bench outside and pondered….”could I sleep the whole night on this bench?” After rising at 2:45am in Regina to catch my flight I was a bit tired and I almost thought I could actually sleep there. But would I be safe? There was a door bell. Should I ring it? I was going to disturb someone. For my safety I had to do it. I rang it. A couple minutes passed. Then two things happened at the same time. I got a text back. “Your passcode will get you in at the guest door entry” (as opposed to this main entry I was standing at) and two women came to the door I was standing at. One in a nursing uniform and the other in a housecoat. I can’t begin to describe how mortified I was by the thought that not only had I got this rather older nun from her bed but that I was putting them in this situation of having to come to a stranger at a door in the dark.

Can we break for a cut scene? A little diversion…… Last week when I was preparing to get away Russell and I were both fairly intrigued by the thought that I was coming to a convent. I handled my intrigue by pondering the books I should pack. Russell handled his with humor, singing to me a phrase from the musical The Sound of Music, “how do you solve a problem like Kaklika?” (One of my nicknames as a kid, it’s Hawaiian for Kathy, it is also the right number of syllables to match the original song “How do you solve a problem like Maria.”)

Darn that man, that is exactly what unfolded. Like a scene out of the Sound of Music Kathy/Maria stands flustered at the door, a doorbell gets rung, an elderly nun comes from a distance and encounters this woman who can’t contain her own heart or get her act together. That is exactly how I felt in that moment. It was probably 20 seconds or less of sorting out what was going on and then Sister Beryl, I guess sensing that everything was on the up and up, offered to show me to my room on the 2nd floor. I only let her walk me to the stairs, (she was using a cane), I could figure the rest out, but in those moments I was overcome with relief about the grace I was receiving.

As I pondered this grace I was very struck by my assumption that I deserved to be judged or assessed first, versus simply received. Where did that come from? Nuns have a mixed reputation, so maybe that. However, given the sister’s identity as followers of Jesus, which implies lives shaped by love and grace, with hospitality as part of their mission, my expectation that I would be judged for my lack of perfection, was really quite an insult to those nuns.

The next morning at breakfast, as I gathered with the sisters in the “refectory”, drinking some of the best coffee I had ever had, and eating a piece of toast from bread so good that God might have made it, I realized that I had done to Sister Beryl what I was so offended about being done to me earlier in the spring. I assumed that she came to me with assessment on the mind. Of course she did, from a safety point of view, but after I passed that test, I was pretty certain she might be pondering that I was inconsiderate and if not that, well, surely she would need to assess me in some way. As it was we mostly quietly walked together down the long hallway. Mostly quietly. There were the moments where I apologized, and then apologized again, feeling so inept. Here is what I noted in my journal about Sister Beryl the next morning, she had gentle eyes and it felt like an understanding, companion instinct. Her words were few but somehow they assured me it was not the end of the world. Thinking about this at breakfast, at chapel, in my journal and again now as I write I can’t help but have tears in my eyes. It just means so much. It means so much to bring all that we bring and be received with grace. To bring all that we bring….. for me, that day, it was layers and layers of needing favors arising from being inexperienced, naive, forgetful, and optimistic.

It go’s further. I think I treat God like this too. At least part of the time. Expecting that if God were to come to the door and see me there, ill prepared for the moment I would hear, “what the hell Kathy?!? Did you not read the manual and see about the guest door? Did you really need to push this day to the absolute limit and in the process ask many people to bend and flex for you? How many times are you going to need to be bailed out?”

But that’s not the God who said, “you who are without sin can throw the first stone.” In other words, no-one is perfect.

That’s not the God who told his followers to respond with generosity to hunger, loneliness, thirst and nakedness…in other words to see and actively care, no mention of assessment and judging.

If there was a competition regarding what is the most transformative force in the world I think grace maybe runs neck and neck with love. Then again, maybe I am splitting hairs, maybe love is grace and grace is love. I can’t quite tease it out but I know that I need grace and when I receive it it’s everything. It allows me to love myself. It makes it possible to extend understanding and love to others.

I think my late night encounter with Sister Beryl and the learnings in it for me will be something I revisit may times as life unfolds. To call forth another song title from Maria’s repertoire…..that memory will be one of “My Favorite Things.”

Day 16 – Postcards from the Heart

Oct 15, 4:27am
Mom, I love this picture of Gina, I look at it and I think “Grace”. She is in a place and posture to receive. The kiss of the sun looks as if it is giving her peace, a reminder of how sacred she is, a moment of rest. In addition it brings her beauty alive in a new way. I find myself wishing the same things for you. I know how you love to see and feel the sun, you can transport yourself to Hawaii anytime if the sun is kissing you. In a hospital room it may not be as possible, but God’s grace is enduring and not dependent on circumstances. So I wish for you, as in this image, a deep sense of peace, constant reminder of how sacred you are & comfortable rest. I observe that this time is bringing alive in you, or making glow, your particular inner beauty…..the ability to flex + flow, to be grateful in all circumstances, to give unconditional love, to inspire goodness. Thank-you.
❤
K

This postcard is the 16th in a series of 22 being posted occasionally on the blog. It is part of a set of photocards, all taken by Liz Griffin Photography at various times since November 2019. The postcards were for my Mom when she was living with cancer.

This photo was part of Gina’s grade 12 graduation photos, from her casual photo shoot with Liz in July of 2020.