Looking for my Place

Having found a church that I enjoy worshiping with, I don’t like to miss on Sunday. But if there is one thing I have learned in these years of dealing with the tumor it is that I must give my body rest when it is tired and most especially when it is battling. A cold caught me last week. I woke up in the middle of the night before Thursday morning. This is becoming a pattern for me, this waking up to feel the unease setting in. Is it meant to prepare me, alert me, give me a chance to head it off? Or is it just that I have become that much in tune with and aware of my body that these sensations are literal and figurative wake up calls to help me stay on top of things and take care of myself in a way that makes room for miracles?

It was graduation weekend at the local college where my husband is chaplain. It was busy and exciting and tiring. Friday evening I was invited to read the scripture at the Baccalaureate service. Scripture reading is one of my most favorite things. I think it is one of my gifts and I love to share it when I have the opportunity. Being sick though lead me to not want to spend more time up front than absolutely necessary. We planned for me to sit in the audience after I read, but I didn’t have a reserved seat. I ended up sitting behind the choir and then slipping out just as the last hymn was being sung (my kids were sitting in my husband’s office).

I still have a sense of awkwardness about public events in our small town. I guess it is part of this Forgiveness Project. I am hopeful that with time and good behaviour I’ll gain a sense of belonging. This “medical sabbatical”, this fallow time, has me trying to redefine myself, trying to find a new role; I’m more accustomed to having my sense of authority or belonging-ness defined by an officially assigned label or role. You may call me a permission-seeker and that would probably be spot-on. It’s a passport I seek. But maybe I have all the authority and permission I need to be a good citizen and contributing member of this community. Maybe I shouldn’t be looking outside myself for someone else to give me permission to be here. Perhaps God has already done that. I am not trespassing when I am invited to be present or to participate.

121. The first time I have ever seen a Baltimore Oriole, and it was in my very own back yard!

122. The little boy who can’t sleep and asks me to come pet him. He used to say “feel me” when he wanted me to rub his back.

123. Being able to give myself permission to be sick and lay in bed.

124. Exploring possibilities for my writing.

125. Summer plans that are beginning to take shape.

126. The older boy earning and A+ on his school project.

127. Another date for tea with a new friend.

128. Oatmeal pancakes! I LOVE my gluten-free recipe.

129. Sharing my journey in ways that are helpful to other people (see especially my post on forgiveness resources.)

130. The sun is shining after a rainy, cold weekend!

131. Little boy asking me to make one of his favorite dishes.

132. Big boy and little boy playing with the fractions manipulatives I ordered.

133. Dreams that help me understand.

134. Squirrels playing in the yard.

135. Paying off the latest medical bills.

136. Muddy, wet boys coming in from the rain.

137. Watching the garden grow.

138. Two apple trees in my yard, a hope for the late summer harvest

139. A friend who looks for me at church.

140. Women friends in my profession.

Take note of your thanksgivings with the community at:

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4 Responses to Looking for my Place

  1. Annette :) says:

    stopped by from 1000 gifts. this thanksgiving is the difficult beauty that rises from ashes. you are not alone! ☺ happy day to you!

  2. Deborah King says:

    Like number 133. Me too.

    • Grace Walker says:

      Isn’t it just so helpful when God speaks through dreams and we understand the message? Thanks for stopping in!

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