Then again…

I have been stuck with a migraine in bed wearing an eye mask over one and a half eyes for 2 days now. Not a good time. Pretty miserable, if I’m honest.

Then again, if I’m honest about the whole story, I am so very blessed, even in this…

First of all, while I suffer with chronic migraine, I do not have a terminal, or even a constant illness. My heart goes out to those who do.

Secondly, when I am sick I can take time off the work I so love to do. I am self-employed, work in my home, and have wonderful client families who are caring, understanding, and supportive- even though my days in bed mean they have to scramble for childcare. Blessed!

Thirdly, when a migraine strikes I am usually able to knock it out right away with medicine. Pharmaceutical drugs; the cost of which is mostly covered by my husband’s employment benefits. This means that most of the time, I do not have to take my head to bed for days on end.

Then there is the beautiful fact that while I lie here in pain, I am safe and secure in a comfortable bed, in a peaceful home, with open windows that let in fresh air beside me.

There is food in the house, the utility bills will still be paid, my job will still be there, and mercifully, my own children were all at least preschool age before I started having migraines. They, and my husband have always been able to take care of each other when I am out of commission.

Most sweet of all to me is that angels (the mortal kind 😉 come to visit me, bringing me ice packs, medicine and food- and stay to chat a while, sometimes leaving me with a kiss on my aching head. (Which, by the way, actually does receive pain for a moment and does make even me, 41-year-old woman feel better.)

(One other thing I look forward to getting back to ASAP!)

#migraine #sickdays #blessed #grateful

#angels

Fast.

I just finished a 7-day social media fast. I did add some posts myself during that time, just a few here and there. But I didn’t go through my feed on Facebook, Instagram, or Twitter for a week.

Normally, I look through those accounts during ‘quiet time’ in the afternoons while the littlest children in my dayhome are asleep and the others snuggle in with me for some childrens’ Netflix together on the family room couches.

Of course I love the children, and I love the cuddles, but I cannot bear most of the programs we play. Some shows are better than others. For instance I enjoy Peppa Pig, and Ben and Holly’s Little Kingdom. The first time through.

It’s a little surprising to me that I didn’t miss my social media accounts at all. I read, or sometimes snoozed under my heap of cuddly little friends. Speaking of which, it is also surprising to me how coherently I can respond to their commentary on their show with my eyes closed.

Anyway, today I scrolled through interesting images and ideas with less than my usual interest level. It was fluff. Mildly engaging from time to time, but not important. Good to know.

Phew.

(image courtesy of Pinterest 😉

Perfect timing.

I’d feel a little more clever if I could refer to this lovely flower by its name, but I’m not sure. Possibly an iris? Either way, it just unfurled its glorious petals this week and brought me some gentle joy in the process.

The process. It wasn’t the first bloom to excite me with the promise of spring actually arriving; and it’s ahead of the peonies and lilacs and day lilies in my garden. Naturally, it doesn’t matter at all.

Similarly, our house has been on the market for months now and here we are. Other properties have sold quickly, and doubtless there will be some which take longer to sell than this one. And that’s ok. Thank Heaven we aren’t actually in a hurry. If I don’t start my college program in September, I may begin in January. I can start taking university courses any time…

One thing is for sure: I won’t be bored. There is always ever so much for me to do…

And when the time is just right, someone will come along and buy this lovely home where we’ve been so happy raising our children. Maybe they will raise theirs here.

In the meantime, I’m happy to practise this-

(p.s. Also in the meantime, I’m grateful for every day I get to enjoy the lovely new flooring and painting etc we’ve been busy doing for the next owners 😉

Lykke.

There, lying momentarily upon my ‘knobbly knees’ is a clever and interesting little book which I enjoyed dipping into during intervals of happy quiet play this morning in the backyard.

Based on the pronunciation guide provided for the title, which is the Danish word for happiness, I think maybe our English word ‘lucky’ may have come from the same linguistic roots. However, happiness is a result of so much more than luck.

Yes, lots of the factors which affect our potential level of happiness seem to fall from the sky on some people and not others. But I am convinced that personal happiness is an inside job.

For instance, the sun was shining in a pretty blue sky, but I wouldn’t have enjoyed the benefits of this stroke of ‘luck’ if I hadn’t taken the wee ones out to play in the backyard.

Conversely, I do have rather knobby knees; but because I generally overlook this somewhat unfortunate fact, I get to feel the sun on my legs, and the cool flow of the water as I wade in the creek with my little friends on many golden afternoons.

… and so, upon mature consideration, I am inclined to agree with the above statement. 😉

#lykke #happy #choice

Eggs.

Apart from the sad fact that I am currently allergic to these delectable little morsels of nutrition, I love eggs. Something about them seems almost magical to me; each one is like a little self-contained world of beautiful food energy.

Luckily for me, I have good reason to buy and cook eggs in spite of my unfortunate blood test results… I often prepare a pot of hard-boiled eggs for my family and little dayhome children. While this image isn’t as striking as some I have collected on Pinterest, even my everyday grocery store eggs are really, ever so pretty. Aren’t they?

Sunset in rain.

Emma (our almost-18-year-old daughter) loves watching sunsets. She has for years; she often goes up a nearby hill either on her own or with a friend, and takes photos of these beautiful moments of heavenly art in the western sky. It’s a hobby of hers.

This evening she invited her parents to go with her. Of course, we accepted with alacrity. We are blessed to live in the southwest corner of a small town in the southwest corner of Alberta. It’s not a long drive into the country to her favourite sunset-watching spot. The fields are rich green at this time of year. Everything outside is beautifully alive.

As soon as we parked the truck, great fat raindrops began splatting on the windshield. It was like a little gift. The rain only lasted a few minutes, but it was enough. We turned off the engine and opened the windows; breathing in the sweet fresh smell of the countryside. The birds and frogs were very vocal, and then the mosquitoes showed up.

We didn’t stay out there for long, not more than a few minutes. But it was enough. The sunset was a vague idea; but it was enough to bring us there together for the smells and sights and sounds we enjoyed. This lovely evening won’t happen again, but it was enough.

#contentment #sunset #rain #birdsong #family #time #country #blessed

Spring snowballs.

I bought and planted this little snowball bush in our backyard a few years ago, for old times’ sake. We had one outside the farmhouse door when I was a child- by the verandah steps on that side of the house. I always feel like ‘home’ in it’s most original sense, is the farm…

While my paternal Grandpa was away fighting in WW2 his wife bought a pretty little farm on the Nicomekl River, on Coast Meridian Road. Nestled between Cloverdale (a small farming town) and White Rock (a beach/ border town) it prospered as a thriving dairy farm in Grandpa Jack’s able hands.

We lived in a second house on the same farm when I was a very young child, then eventually in the original white and red farmhouse after my grandparents couldn’t live there anymore. I am forever grateful for the wealth of happy memories I am blessed with from those sweet years.

For this reason I have always been touched to the heart by Dylan Thomas’ stirring poem, Fern Hill…

I love this so much I wish I had written it, but of course only Dylan Thomas could have done it.