Pulling up to the pumps on my usual early morning trip to work, I realized halfway through the fill I had my purse but no wallet. I quickly told the attendant to stop but he had already finished. I headed inside and lamented to the lady dressed in her gas station uniform behind the counter. She assured me there was no problem to pay later with the stipulation of leaving my phone behind the counter for a short siesta till I was back with payment.

I wasn’t thrilled about leaving my “life” behind the counter but I quickly knew I had no choice. During my conversation with the attendant I heard a quiet voice directly behind me say,

“I’ll pay for it… put it on my card.”

I turned abruptly, my eyes meeting the gaze of a young man, 20-ish or so, staring intently back at me.

“Really?? Thank you!!”

I managed in a louder voice than I had intended in my surprise. A slight smile tugged at his lip shyly as I asked his name and said,

“I’ll pay it forward!!”

all in one breath it seemed.

Randall the “Good Samaritan” asked my name as I generously shook his hand much to the enjoyment of a group of customers standing in various places in the small store grinning from ear-to-ear in response to what they were witnessing.

A sigh of relief exhaled from my chest as I held my cell phone tight as it was now not going for a stay behind the counter, but even more than that, my heart was blessed by this stranger in the moment.

Arriving home later that day, thinking I’d find my wallet in my other purse, my stomach sank as I realized quickly it was not to be the case. My mind then quickly remember the last time I’d seen it… in a shopping cart… on a Walmart parking lot. I frantically made some calls thinking none of this would really actually matter. A wallet in an open cart.. cash, credit card, debit card, old pictures I could never replace,the wallet being a personal gift from my sister in Palm springs.

As I headed into the store, my heart sank as I didn’t seem to have much faith at all but I sent a quick prayer just the same to calm my stomach. As I proceeded to ask for and describe a wallet that I was sure was a lost cause, the lady behind the counter interrupted my chain of descriptions and enthusiastically said,

“Just a minute… I’ll have to get it from the safe… someone has turned it in!”

and then she looked at me intently with a satisfied grin crossing her face and said,

“And someone was taking care of you.”

I could have kissed her! but knowing I did have the discipline somewhere inside of my excited self, I refrained and simply replied enthusiastically

“Thank you!!”

After experiencing those two acts of pay it forward that day, I realize there are still good people in this world whether they are right behind you willing to help you in time of need or the unknown someone who turns in your “life” with honesty.

But more than that, there is the ONE who always watches… watches out for me… watches out for you… and sends his blessings through those who may be willing.

Many years ago I had seen the movie Pay it Forward. I loved the scene at the end of the movie, as sad as it was, where the young boy who had started the pay it forward movement before getting sick ,was already so sick and dying in his bed at home.

But when he looked out the window with his mother, rows of headlights miles long were traveling along the long and winding road to come see him one last time in the dead of the dark in response to his paying it forward.

The ONE who always watches over me and always watches over you, originated the ultimate pay it forward some 2000 years ago at the cross.

If a simple pay it forward makes your your heart smile today like it did mine and gets you through the day in this not so perfect and often cruel world, what kind of day…week…life will you have when you experience the ultimate original pay it forward?

He gave us the keys to Life Everlasting to a beautiful city, so bright.. so glorious.. so perfect..and an inheritance to trump all inheritances. No more sickness, no more death! And so much more!

So how do we ever match a pay it forward such as this from a selfless gift like that??

We can’t. EVER.

Yet our response to HIS Ultimate gift, how we share the act of this unmatchable…indescribable gift, is to pay it forward. We can never pay forward what He has done but living a life walking in this gift is the beginning of a best pay it forward ever.

It makes His heart smile wide.

We may never see this side of Heaven the row of headlights winding down the road in the dark of night responding to our pay it forward.

But today..and the next… and the next,

give someones heart a reason to smile wider than ever and live out The ultimate gift you have been given… and pay it forward in response to the

ultimate pay it forward.♥️

Scene 1: The beeping of the monitors amidst the intermittent flashing red and green lights brought me back to this moment from a place so far away in my mind I had run to again… Hoping that the further I’d run, the more this wasn’t happening.

Just days before, my dad had brought my mom to the local hospital ER suffering from chest pains. I had talked to her then in the midst of all that was being tested… But now two days later there was no more talking… None.

The miles of endless tubes seemed to go on forever, no beginning… no end making up the life support now.

My mind raced in disbelief as I tried wrapping my mind around how we the family had gotten here so quickly. Hadn’t we just talked? It all seemed a blur.

Now gently sitting at her bedside I was trying to sit tall as if all the info of the past day would make more sense if I did.

“She has a 50/50 chance of surviving the night.”

Still reeling from what felt like an explosion in the aftermath of my emotions, questions and thoughts, all over the place in millions of tiny pieces it seemed.

So many emotions… So many played out in vignettes of all the years doing life together as mother and daughter. Emotions flooded the forefront of my mind as the dance between us had not always been as graceful as either of us would have hoped. Trying to put it all in order in my mind in those fleeting moments seemed so very impossible… and yet the ICU in the large hospital she had been transferred to now was a strange comfort.

Knowing someone else was taken care of her seemed to take the enormous load off my heart and mind and those of my family. And I knew instinctively she was being taken care of by more than the doctors and nurses. That “knowing” would ring more then true in the coming days, weeks, and months.

Before the transfer on day one, my sister had noticed the nurses has missed something in the daily charting pointing to renal failure and septic shock. My mom was fading fast, not responding much most of the time. She then insisted more help was needed than a local hospital could provide…

Miracle number 1. The medical book said no treatment equals death. Almost certain death was avoided in that moment with that decision.

The doctor agreed…Miracle number 2.

The next few days seem to weave in and out of daylight and darkness. Three days after the doctor’s 50/50 prognosis, I arrived at the hospital and was greeted with the biggest blue gray eyes I’d seen in years. The tubes were still engulfing most of her body, but she was awake!

50/50 chance of survival… Miracle number 3.

Finally the day came when my mom took her first steps from her bed.. life was slowly coming back to her… she was walking forward.

Statistics show septic shock is the leading cause of death in the ICU… But not this day… Miracle number 4.

To make this even more incredible, my mom’s immune system had been compromised all her life with 13 surgeries behind her at 62 now…one lasting 13 hours…changing so much of how she would do life from then on including having only one kidney…. Functioning at 25%… Miracle number 5.

My mom would survive the septic shock and renal failure and she’s still here 12 years later.

Statistics…. Only 30% of septic shock patients in the ICU survived the first year. Miracle number 6.

Scene 2:. Enter, my dad.

By now he, along with many others had made many trips and long hard nights into the hospital. Once my mom was able to talk and have a chat in her room about a week later, she suggested my dad go to the ER downstairs to check the ringing in his ears he had been concerned about.

Our family was breathing a little deeper and sleeping a little sounder now that mom was out of the woods so to speak. Little did we know… more sleepless lights were not much further down the road.

Dad obliged and went to check his ears. The next I saw my dad he was wearing a regulation green hospital gown joining us for coffee at the Tim Hortons in the basement. The ER had admitted him promptly as his blood pressure was way… Way… too high. Now under doctor’s care two days later, we all visited mom in this way.

Then came the call…

It seemed like we were entering a nightmare we were just crawling out of.

“Your dad has had a massive stroke… He’s on life support… In the ICU…”

NO!!!!…. I yelled in my head or so I thought as I heard my voice.

Running down the now familiar hallway I had almost lived in only a week before, I caught my breath as I pushed open the door to the ICU.

My mind caught the familiar beeping and red and green blinking lights… again… my eyes adjusted as I saw my dad laying motionless in the ICU bed… right across from my mom’s ICU bed..

Didn’t this only happened in the movies?? A million tubes or so it seemed making up the life support…. All so very painfully familiar.

Hadn’t the family just come up from nearly drowning in what life had dealt us?? I felt as if a giant heavy foot was pushing me back mercilessly below the surface leaving me struggling with what seemed like no air at all.

A few hours earlier the nurses had found my dad’s seemingly lifeless body on the cold hospital floor in his room. Where was the miracle now?

My dad had already been at the hospital when the stroke attacked his body. Miracle number 1.

As I gently sat at the edge of my dad’s bed feeling like I’d been here before… I hardly recognized him..his face swollen and motionless.

My dad had always been invincible to me. Among many other things, he had driven us as a family through many a bad snow storm over the years and I never worried…. But now he was not the driver… And the storm felt like a white out…I couldn’t seem to see past my own mind.

So many emotions… So many vignettes of days lived with my dad. My mind was flooded with my emotions as the dance we had done hadn’t always been as graceful as either of us would have liked it and I knew somehow in that moment… we had nothing between us…and in that moment, I experienced a strange peace in the midst of it all still perched on the edge of his bed.

I hadn’t had such peace with mom as I felt with Dad in this moment. I had unfinished business… But here and now I felt nothing but peace.

I always knew I loved them both dearly, but the dances had been different with each of them.

Over the next few days the prognosis of my dad’s massive stroke sat heavy like a massive rock. Three days in, the doctors relayed news of things not looking good if he didn’t wake up soon.

And so began session after session of decades of Johnny Cash songs tried by some of us as a doctors suggested familiarity. I think I still know every word to every song from every decade. It’s not like we didn’t try. That was as familiar as it could get… It was my childhood… on vinyl records.

Then came the call… How many calls could we finally all handle…

my sister’s voice at the other end one night broke the news….

Dad’s awake!!!

And so it began again.

Miracle number 2...

Most stroke victims don’t end up in ICU. They either die or walk out of the hospital days later.

My dad stayed in the ICU for the next few days. The stroke had been merciless but he recognized us! He spoke of days gone by, oh how we talked! The stroke may have broken into my dad’s body and robbed him of much…but we could talk!!…. Miracle number 3.

“Tube fed the rest of his life” they said to a man who enjoyed his food as much as I did. It may as well have been a life sentence.

One day weeks later, my dad being quite low about being tube fed, he emphatically instructed one day he would eat bacon and KFC chicken. The occupational therapists were taken aback but my dad insisted. So facing the x-ray machine onto my dad’s throat with extra support on hand just in case … My dad proceeded to eat… And eat he did as the x-ray showed the chicken and bacon happily making its way down his throat to his happy stomach… Miracle number 4.

Time was not so kind to my dad as he endured one and a half years in the hospital, Rehab and Care home. When Rehab informed us there was nothing more they could do, my sister set up private physio who taught my dad to transfer… his ticket home. Miracle number 5.

Most level four stroke patients never live at home again.

It was no easy feat having my dad make home his home. Self-managed government Home Care was established and much training on every level of need was addressed from having to be hoyered to bathing and personal care and feeding for a time.

Much was experienced over the past 12 years since that time, too much to mention, but what I experienced with taking my dad to the dirt track races (as he had done with us growing up) with they’re handy van, many hours of reading to him as his eyesight was now partially taken, slideshows in the evenings of all the pictures he had taken of our family travels and family gatherings… Mom’s homemade bread wafting through the air as I’d walk in the door, and most of all mom and dad still being able to live together after all these years as the God sent home care was hired by the family… who became family… Miracle number 6.

Reading statistics of massive strokes just recently I was shocked to find that only 1% of massive stroke patients survive and if they do live possibly live another year. My dad is going on 12 years now… Miracle number 7.

In all of what has happened to both mom and dad over these past 12 years, it happened to all of us the family in varying ways.

Relationships changed, conversations were had, good and bad times we’re had… All in the new normal.

But as much as it may not have been perfect, I believe for me and some others, it’s been a chain of miracles in the ICU dance and all of life lived in the past 12 years.

My dad hasn’t walked on his own again since that day 12 years ago among other things and Mom has continued to struggle in various ways herself.. and they themselves I know would say this is what they wish and pray for and we as a family along with them.

Yet I want to say in the pursuit of a certain outcome we have had our miracles on this 12-year Journey that we can’t ignore if we open our eyes a bit wider.

So in all of this I see, we still have hope for, stand for, pray for, speak for even better, but along the way I want to continue to remind myself and those around me;

Don’t miss your miracles…

and the hand who gives them on the road to even better♥️♥️

Crouching low as to not bump our heads on the low ceiling of the bunk in the 1970s family motorhome my little sister and I made ourselves as comfortable as could be in the small space. The Monopoly board, paper money, houses, hotels, and move tokens took up most of the leftover space. It was one of our favorite things to do on our many summer family trips.

A long narrow window out the front gave opportunity for the best panoramic views where we were headed day or night. My views consisted of the majestic mountains in the British Columbia interior to the water’s edge of Newfoundland over the years.

On this particular trip my dad pointed the motorhome south across the border to California. Spectacular cities and country views by day…KOA campground signs and mostly deserted roads by the dark of the night.

This particular night long after dark, searching for the KOA campgrounds, the rolling hills of Salt Lake City came into view. Perched on the top bunk now tucked in with cozy blankets and pillows matching the 70s brown and gold decor, the motorhome crawled up a particularly long hill. Only the headlights lit the highway in the wee hours of the morning.

As my eyes grew tired and mesmerized by the continuous passing of the yellow dividing lines on the highway, I started nodding off.

Suddenly something bright forced my tired eyes to open a bit. My eyes then opened wide as what appeared woke my mind wide. Cresting the hill, a sea of lights shone as a million white diamonds as far as the eye could see.

I gasped slightly as I caught my breath at the sight. My eyes were wide open now not wanting to miss any of this view that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. There was a comfort in the cast glow of the city, even then in my 12 year old mind.

The darkness seemed to all but disappear as the city lights seemed to envelope us all.

As I think back on this memory, it reminds me of the first time I heard the Gaither gospel song “Because He Lives”. One particular line in the song has stood out in my heart ever since and it goes as follows:

“I’ll see the lights of Glory… and…I’ll KNOW He lives!“.

There may be times we will have to travel through life in the dark of the night after the joys of daylight with only the dividing lines and a few signs illuminated. But knowing that the final crest someday will open wide the windows of all the lights of Glory that will leave your eyes wide in awe and your heart breathless, will make this trip worth all you or I will experience.

And…

you’ll know… that you know… that you know…

He lives!♥️♥️

Finding our seats among thousands of fans in the Winnipeg stadium a number a years ago, the sights and sounds that accompanied a Grey Cup enveloped me and my friends as our excitement mounted. Free tickets added to our already excited minds.

Staring down into the field from our amazing VIP seats, it just couldn’t get any better. The toss..the whistle, the kick… bodies colliding from every angle, all forces to be reckoned with in all the unforgiveness of the pursuit.

Then, just as all seemed done, the quarterback emerged from the pile running the field at top speed.. the 10, the 20, now the 30… 99 grueling yards across the field over the touchdown line with the coveted pigskin wrapped tight in a literal football hold tucked tight to his chest, players falling by the way as his free arm plowed a path.

The crowd exploded. The quarterback performed his personal well-rehearsed victory dance. It was all so deafening from where I sat.

What a celebration.

This scene brought me back to a picture long hidden in my heart many years back. I was drowning under a pile of bodies getting tackled, battered and bruised from every side… picture of my life and that “ball season”.

Then out of nowhere it seemed God picked me up and tucked me close and tight under his arm close to his chest and started for the end zone.

No matter what or who came at us, His free arm kept everything and everyone at bay as bodies crushed into him ferociously.

We crossed the finish line, victory dance ensuing for the fans now on thier feet. He then turned and shouted into the face of the opposing team still holding me close…

“This is my girl!!

And I am her victory!!

The deafening roar of the crowd brought me back to the moment, the corners of my eyes glistening at the memory…the memory surrounding me of my God’s heart in my life.

His protection, my position, my victory in Him in the end zone… my life…

For the ultimate win.

A number of years back, I was enjoying a beautiful walk in the majestic autumn in all of its splendor down backroads in my little hometown.

The curled up multicolor red, brown and yellow fallen leaves created a beautiful carpeted walk that crunched beneath my feet as I strolled down the path. The gentle but intentional bursts of the crisp autumn air encouraged those leaves already holding on only by a prayer it seemed to soar gently in different directions as they eventually found the carpeted path.

My senses tingled, being very much alive as I continued down the windy path. I had always loved these crisp autumn days since I was a very young child. My heart was tuning in with God as nature…His paint brush, always tended to focus it in that direction.

As I gazed up at the fall sky past the now blackened autumn trees once full of summertime leaves, I felt a question rising in my heart…

“Where are you in my life today?.. in this moment?”

Thoughts of life as it was, passed in short vignettes through my mind, spurring the question. And then is if He could read my heart…

because He can.. He gently but clearly impressed in me;

“The wind you cannot see moves these leaves in many different directions. You may not see me, but the leaves that get blown in many different directions are as a result of prayers that have come my way. And yet those days when you simply had nothing left to pray, my spirit had blown things in certain directions purely because I love you so incredibly much.

And speaking of that, I want you to stop trying to love me so much and just let ME love you first. It’s then you will find rest and love Me in return as was always the plan. and knowing my heart will help you see when the leaves seem to fall where they shouldn’t.”

Your walk through the trees on your many paths of your life will become so much more peaceful as you learn to know where I am… and who I am to you.”

I kept walking, overwhelmed with what my heart was hearing. Though some circumstances in life may have looked cold and dark as the blackened autumn trees my eyes were beholding, I felt a sense of comfort knowing that I could rest in that beauty of an autumn day in my life knowing that the falling leaves are not to be feared as the wind of the Holy Spirit, though unseen, knew exactly where they had landed on the path.

Where was He?

He was there.

Always had been.

No matter if the silence was deafening at times and knowing He wanted to love me first was almost too much.

In the path of the darkened trees silhouetted against the autumn, the beautiful multicolored brown, yellow and red leaves blowing where ever they may be in every season of my life… Knowing who was on the path with me and His heart towards me,

I could start to enjoy the journey…

The walk.

When spring comes again…

the warmth of the gentle sun will once again smile down upon my face and soften the lines chilled by the winter of yesterday.

When spring comes again…

my eyes will once again lift up to the hills from where my strength comes.

When spring comes again…

my feet will dance to a lighter tune and remember the happy songs of old that carried all of my yesterdays…

When spring comes again…

my hands will hold close the newness of each day and treasure it so for it comes but once.

When spring comes again…

the river of my heart will once again flow breaking free from the winter’s ice that sealed the land of the living moments.

When spring comes again…

my heart will once again know that the warm breeze of a changing season will once again breathe life into the next page of the next chapter.

And then…

When spring comes again…

I will… I will choose to love this season…

because it is where I am…

In this moment… the winter is gone and the summer lives in the distance.

When spring comes again.

I love this song♥️♥️

Your “cup of cold water” however that may look… insignificant…small…

may just be the reason someone spends eternity in Heaven♥️

The warm summer sun smiled its way through the tall towering sunroom windows.

It’s smile had already landed on everything else outside the windows, painting light on everything it touched making the view seem larger than life itself for the eyes of my heart to feast on…

one of my most favorite spots to do life… reflect…. read…soak…write..

my room with a view.

There is something about sunshine… It’s brush paints happiness and illuminates everything it seems to touch.

During the planning stages of our sunroom addition the goal was to let in as much light as possible along with being able to see as far and wide as possible from every area of the room.

Short of creating one large looming continuous window covering the span of the whole addition; being impractical and quite costly, the plan included minimal wall space separating each towering window pane.

The view I enjoy looking through the complete span of tall windows give me somewhat of a true picture of my inviting backyard, yet the minimal wall spaces between the windows keep me from seeing every detail of what I think I see.

The further back I step into the room away from the windows, the clearer and bigger the picture seems to get.

Too often in our lives we may think we see all there is to see about a situation or event, yet the spaces between the windows (our beliefs, filters, lies, mindset) keep us from seeing the complete picture.

Standing too close to the window (situation) can leave us with much less visual and our perception can lead us to less truth about the situation.

Step back…see the bigger picture… let the sunshine of God’s light paint His brush of clarity on that which may be hidden behind the walls between the “windows”of your life… and truly enjoy your place from which you do life…

Your heart…

Your room with a view.

I understand we can find over a hundred references… perhaps even hundreds on Listening in the Word…

then it must be important.

Seeing the likes of 2019 illuminated everywhere I look, it seems clear the new year has been embraced whether we are ready or not. So if we choose being ready versus not… being intentional is not an option.. it’s a necessity.

Being intentional can lead you East, West, North or South and every destination in between.

I have made countless New Year’s resolutions for many years from weight loss..to weight loss.. and everything in between. The last number of years I’ve chosen to make an ever-present resolution that can resonate through a lifetime..

Living in the moment..

Because that is where I live and I can be the most effective for myself and others.

Yet many pieces of being intentional can fit into a moment.

Let’s imagine for a moment that you choose just one word to represent you being intentional this next year.

I choose Listen.

To Listen would seem on the surface so simple…yet is incredibly powerful.

To listen according to Webster’s dictionary is to pay attention to something or someone in order to hear what is being said, song played, etc.

It is in a sense an incredibly powerful act of love.

Who could the listening be for? Your kids? Your spouse? Your boss? A friend? The elderly? A stranger?… Your God?.. You?

What would you listen for?

Joy, frustration? Anger, fear? Directions?.. listening to your heart for peace in all you do..the list is endless.

When would be a good time to listen? In the moment? Now? What could absolutely wait in our life if we could lay down a moment and just listen??

A toddler tugging at your shirt wanting attention.. a teenager sitting across the table looking to hide needing a non-judgmental ear so badly? A spouse’s rant after a long day or simple ear for celebration? A time set aside for those forever shut in behind the doors of old age?

A friend’s need for a simple coffee or chat?..a stranger? Or you, literally silencing your mind and your heart to get direction from God…listening on your own Journey?

In the moment seems like a good place to start, for everyone has a moment.

In the Psalms God tells us that if we listen to Him, He will lead us into all Truth… the greatest reason of ALL to just listen!!

Genesis talks about promises He has for us, but we need to just open our ears and heart to know how to receive them.

Being someone who will be intentional with just listening may just be the most effective resolution you will or have ever made.

It’s one that not only benefits you but everyone else that will cross your path this next year…and beyond.

We may never know this side of Heaven how our choice to just listen may have affected many hearts including our own.

God tells us in I Peter 3 that His ears are open to our prayers … If the God of the universe has His ears open to us, Him being the ultimate listener, how important wouldn’t it be for us to do the same in every area of our lives.

This new year be intentional… Be brave… Take the challenge…. Listening HEALS..

Be the voice that doesn’t use words…

Change your world…change the world..

And just…listen.