A lazy start to a Saturday...

It's a lazy Saturday so far, but the swirl of family life has consumed me again. I have always been fairly sensitive to events going on near and far, to my general surroundings, and to the emotions of others.

In different seasons, my heart is numb - and often I prefer those seasons, but today, I'm feeling everything it seems.

Some of the news articles catching my attention include:

- the pictures of the flood near Jakarta, including graphic imagery of the toll again in human life (I would hop on a plane if I could to help with the clean up)
- a memorial from speakers corners in my hometown, saying goodbye to Martin - a homeless man who tugged on the hearts of so many
- the cresting waters the Red River
- the curious scurry of attention towards 'earth hour'

It is also interesting to watch the tides in the financial waters these days, but my heart and mind are drawn towards the suffering of those who have forgotten about the economy for a while.... And yet, the tidal waves cresting in the financial streams continue to threaten others possibly with as much force as hit those near the dam in Jakarta.

Closer to home, one brother is recovering from a lifetime battle with an addition. His health seems to be slowly improving as he crawls out of the pit he made for himself. In his words to me this morning, he's actually ready to start living his life, looking forward to it, rather than just waiting for death. His choices have cost him dearly in the past, but he choices now are bringing new life and new hope. And my dad, is still faithfully helping him step by step. He's an elderly man now, but the gentleness that has come into him shows me grace like I've never understood it.

As this story of recovery is happening, another brother is facing a divorce after 20+ years. His wife isn't' happy, and she is just moving on. She has bought a new house and is pushing for him to sell the one they had built together. It seems all quite sudden to him. No time for counselling, no time to even let their kids finish out the school year in their present home. She's made a decision to get on with the rest of her life, and everyone is needing to fit around her plans. Clearly the story is yet to unfold as to how they got to this point, and how they will recover. But the flood of emotions is high for everyone involved. It's not the way marriage is supposed to be...but it is too frequently the case. And today, I'm feeling the trauma of that in a number of ways that are surprising, even to me...

As I slowly got up, after connecting with family, I was trying to shake off certain feelings - trying to find a bit of hope in my heart, I took a shower, and thought it was time for a bit of fresh air in this place. So, I opened up the window in my bathroom. I had expected to see the sun, but at least it made me laugh as i pulled open the blinds. I didn't immediately see the sunshine that I'd been expecting. About 40 house flies were suddenly grouped on the little screen - blocking that fresh spring air. Seriously. It wasn't hard to kill the ones on the inside of the screen... they moved quite slowly... I just hadn't been in a 'killing mood'... and it wasn't how I'd planned on starting my spring cleaning this morning.

But that's how it often goes doesn't it? We do what we need to do, when we need to do it, even when we are tired and hoping for something different...

And our response... well it's our response. We can choose how we will respond. Just like my brothers must choose their steps, I will choose mine too.

Today, I choose to pray with those who are grieving. I will hold them close, at least in my heart. I will hope and encourage those who are taking difficult steps towards a new life. I might have to kill a few bugs along the way. But I'll look for the sunshine, and fresh air. I will anticipate the lilacs and lillies that will soon bloom. And even as I say goodbye to some friends who are heading out on a new journey, I'll start taking a few new wobbly steps of my own.

Spring is coming.

Tulips will peak through the frosts.

And then again, there will be roses.