Permission to write, paint, and imagine are the gifts I gave myself when chronic illness hit - a fair exchange: being for doing. Relevance is an attitude. Humour essential.
The stories dwell inside me now, a gift I suppose, for a writer. The young woman, having escaped Russian occupation, who wails for her mother and eleven-year-old sister, left behind. The mother of three, who confesses that the darkness of war has all but consumed her. “My brother’s home was bombed this morning,” she writes. […]
I met a woman once, so debilitated by disease that my impulse was to recoil. Then I remembered the words of one of my teachers: “There is something to love about everyone”, and I checked myself, and realized that this woman must have an incredibly strong will to live. I told her so, and noted […]
I haven’t been to the river for a while, time no longer a commodity. Ric and laugh at quickly our routines were toppled, and how sedate our life was by comparison. Life before 7 in our household, that is. “So that’s what the dining table is for,” he chuckles, since we never used it as […]
Arrogant of me to ask you to stop and read while I have been so absent, yet I have much to share. How did this broken woman, debilitated by disease, find herself deeply entrenched in the humanitarian side of war? I ask myself this question daily. It is a lesson for all us, I believe. […]
For the first time in weeks, I took a break to create. The volunteering threatens to be all-consuming, but I am determined to find balance. Weeks ago, when I started this venture, I was hoping to connect one displaced Ukrainian family with a host family in my area. Quickly, the requests poured in and soon […]