Tag: spasticity

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11-Month Strokeaversary: an update in 9 gerunds

What better therapy than dancing with Gabe? (video below)

As the ONE-YEAR anniversary of my stroke approaches – wow! – my recovery continues to follow the quick rise and flattening curve (see below) that the medical staff predicted for me, as for other stroke survivors. And it’s true – eleven months in, the changes are more subtle. However, every week there inevitably still turns out to be some marked improvement. My physio supervisor, Jessica, tested me last week and told me I’m much stronger in my leg than just a month ago, and my left arm has also strengthened considerably in recent weeks. The Theraband exercises must be helping.

My recovery has gone far, far beyond what many of my doctors and medical team initially predicted in the dire days of last fall. With Sara’s urging, I continue to believe that the curve will never flatten out completely. As the book Stronger After Stroke maintains, there never needs to be a complete plateau to recovery, for a stroke survivor who is fortunate enough to have good support, a stabilized health condition, and dogged determination to work together with the brain’s natural plasticity.

So on this 11th-month strokeaversary, here’s some of what recovery has looked like!

Theraplaying

The wonderful physical therapy and occupational therapy folks at St. Martha’s Regional Hospital are starting to hint that I can’t be an outpatient forever. Of course, they’re right. “As much as we like you and look forward to our sessions,” they tell me, “we have to make room in our case load for new patients…” The hospital has been incredibly generous, and I’ve come to really love my outpatient team. I moved from two sessions a week to one only this last month. Colin, the smart and thoughtful tech who took over from the equally helpful physio tech Janna, is now regularly kicking a soccer ball with me. The catch: I have to use only my left foot. I’m finding that soccer and the funny-face bean-bag toss are my favourite therapy activities. Like a toddler, I’m improving my balance, coordination, and hand movements through play, which makes it seem (almost) easy.

Medicating

After my heart surgery in April to close a PFO (the hole between the upper chambers of my heart), the Halifax surgeon put me on precautionary Plavix, to guard against post-operative complications. I just came off of it and I couldn’t be happier. I’ve been bruising after every blood test (one time the blood actually spurted out) and also when I bump or ding myself as so often happens in summer gardening and construction season. I remain on low-dose Aspirin and a suite of blood pressure pills. But my GP and the cardio team at the hospital have dialled back even these a bit, and now I can crouch and stand up without threatening to black out. Sitting on my haunches to look in a cupboard reminds me of my old self.

Straightening

It was Lindsay, the incredibly gifted and helpful Occupational Therapist at the Nova Scotia Rehabilitation Centre in Halifax, who suggested “Oval 8 Finger Splints” for my left hand’s fingers most reluctant to recover – my ring finger and my pinkie. My pinkie has been broken a few times over the years of basketball and tended to go its own way even before the stroke. I find the splints helpful at the end of a busy day when my fingers tend to curl and stiffen. My typing is improving slightly, although when my left hand quickly tires, those two fingers droop and tend to type their own messages.

Hearing

Of the many effects of the stroke, one of the most subtle has been a slight alteration in my hearing, or more accurately perhaps, my brain’s processing of what I hear. I’ve noticed more trouble understanding Sara when she’s in another room, or there’s ambient noise.

At the same time, my need to focus more carefully on whatever I’m doing so as not to lose balance, trip, or drop something, means my ability to multitask, including “listening, while…,” has diminished. And, I’m not young anymore.

So my audiologist appointment finally came through. The audiologist took me into a sealed quiet room, ran tests on both ears, then gave a series of tests I had to respond to.

The results? Apart from the normal post-stroke inability to multitask because of increased need for concentration, my ears are typical old guy’s ears: some age-related hearing loss, and that’s it.

I actually enjoyed the challenge of having four numbers spoken at once into both ears and having to try to correctly identify them!

Canning

When Gabe, my youngest, came to visit in August with Ray, they said they wanted to do some jelly-making like we did last year. The Saskatoons were done and it was a bit early for the chokecherries, but the jelly turned out well.

Our place is prolific for berries despite the scary and record-breaking drought. I spent hours picking Saskatoons earlier in the season, and our strawberries and grapes are plentiful.

Holding boughs with my left hand while picking berries with my right turns out to be good therapy, too.

Dancing

Gabe’s visit this month also gave me a chance to re-learn and re-try the swing steps we’ve done so many years together, and also to re-learn some of the guitar chords my fingers have forgotten, from all the songs we used to play together. I’m thankful.

If you watch the video (click on the photo below), you’ll see how my face goes mask-like (not direct stroke damage but because I’m concentrating on not falling), my left arms wants to pull in and tighten, and I lose my balance briefly. But overall, what a joy, and what an improvement! Sara has been keeping up my dance therapy since Gabe left…

Reading

My worlds overlapped recently when The Canada Lutheran asked Sara to write a column for their regular Q&A feature. As usual, Dr. Sara Parks, who is a consummate teacher and communicator, produced something interesting, academically solid, and pitched perfect for non-academics. Have a read below.

I recently finished Tanis MacDonald’s wonderful book Straggle. I highly recommend it – it’s full of beautiful writing and profound observation. And Tanis’s thoughts on “ungainly” walking fit my new post-stroke life so well….

Travelling, Walking, & Celebrating

This was also the month that I took my first solo plane trips. I’d been invited west to celebrate the tenth anniversary of our Wood Mountain – Cypress Hills trek in the summer of 2015, featured in my book The Good Walk (URP, 2024). The Saskatchewan History and Folklore Society, which has spearheaded the walks since, was having its board meeting at Wood Mountain in conjunction with the event.

Even though Sara could not accompany me to hoist bags, hold my hand and generally be my security blanket, I was lucky that my brother Mark and sister-in-law Barbara (a recently-retired physio) were there to meet me in Regina. We stayed in their camper at Woodboia Camp near the Wood Mountain Historic Site (the NWMP Fort at Wood Mountain). That’s where Hugh Henry, Richard Kotowich, Hayden Thomassin and I started out 10 years ago to walk the 350-km North-West Mounted Police Patrol Trail (Traders’ Road) across Treaty Four territory.

10 years later, posing with Hugh Henry of the Sask History and Folklore Society

Among the highlights of my trip was visiting the Badlands in the “East Block” at Grasslands National Park. If you ever have the chance, be sure to visit this incredible place.

One of the most significant tests of my recovery was putting on my hiking boots (this time, with elastic laces) and re-walking a portion of the trail from Wood Mountain to the Lakota First Nation. Ten years ago, we did the three miles easily in the morning. This time, I cut out when the trail got muddy and hard to walk, and rejoined later. I managed to walk about a mile and a half in total.

Another highlight was meeting Dr. Claire Thomson, who led us around the historic site at Wood Mountain and gave both an academic and a personal history of the area. Dr Thomson is a descendant of one of the early North-West Mounted Police officers, and of his Lakota wife. Her PhD research on the Lakota history of Wood Mountain won the prize for best doctoral thesis in Canadian Studies recently…I quoted her in The Good Walk and was delighted to meet her in person.

Authoring

At the Regina Chapters-Indigo store I spent an afternoon meeting old friends and new, and signing books. It was great that my western trip gave me that chance. Also this month I had a chance to sign books and present Someone Else’s Saint: How a Scottish Pilgrimage Led to Nova Scotia (Pottersfield, 2025) at the wonderfully-full and fascinating Dartmouth Book Exchange. It’s an incredible place, well-worth a visit!

My life as an author looks like it will keep me busy into the fall as well. In September the Atlantic School of Theology is hosting me for a series of six online lectures on Leonard Cohen and Saint Paul, following up on my book Prophets of Love (MQUP, 2023). You can find more info on those lectures by clicking the “Almost Like the Blues” link HERE.

This week my interview with CBC Radio One Cape Breton’s Wendy Bergfeldt came out on the afternoon show “Main Street.” God bless the public broadcaster! I was excited for my first Nova Scotia CBC interview…and our talk went so well it was broadcast over three separate afternoons! It was wonderful meeting Wendy – it turns out we have LOTS in common: growing up from Scandinavian settler grandparents in SK, attending the U of S in Saskatoon during the same years, living in the UK for a while, and then settling in Nova Scotia. Oh, and did I mention? A shared interest in decolonization, history, and pilgrimage! I’ll post the links to the interview soon. (In case you missed it, my earlier CBC Montreal interview with Sonali Karnick can be heard here).

Next Month: One Year

Soon it will be a full year since my stroke. I’ll be marking the occasion, for sure. Will I be celebrating? I’m not sure what to say.

My stroke cost me a lot that I haven’t yet regained: my sense of secure balance, my ability to walk long distances, to run, to dance smoothly, and to play songs smoothly on the guitar. And crucially, I can’t type with both hands like I used to, which is how I’ve written my essays, lectures, and books.

BUT: the stroke helped me realize what a community of support is around me, how good so many people are, what an incredible partner I have, and how precious life and health is. I’m thankful every day for just being able to walk and speak (and pee and shower!), teach, read, think, and do what passes for a “normal” life for me. Much less all that’s listed above.

In the end, it’s all gift. Because of my stroke last fall, I realise that now more than ever.

So, see you next month! I wonder what surprises await?

Sara found a more elegant solution for dripping juice than the complicated ladder-thingy I typically used.
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stroke-recovery

10-Month Strokeaversary

…. in which the blogger makes a pop culture pun in each header.

“Rocky“

So, something fairly big for me happened recently. Following my stroke ten months ago, I would look out the hospital window from my wheelchair and see people–strolling on their lunch-breaks, walking their dogs, or jogging–up and down the small hill that leads from the hospital to the Bethany Gardens and farm owned by the sisters of St. Martha. At that time, I was a ‘two-person transfer’ and couldn’t walk a meter, let alone a kilometer. “See that hill?” I said to Sara. “I’m going to walk up it with you one day. That’s my goal.” There’s a small tower at the top. My dream was to touch that tower like Rocky finally able to take the steps from the iconic movie. It felt impossible, but I fervently envisioned getting to the top of that hill, giving thanks for my recovery–and being outside, right side up, and on my own two feet.

This week, it finally happened. Sara and I were running separate errands on a busy day and we both wound up in the vicinity of the hospital at the same time. We decided to meet for tea at the volunteer-run BreakAway Cafe that helps pay for new medical equipment. Last fall Sara had been there pretty well every single day to see me, and she still had a free coffee on her hospital coffee card. It had been a while since we’d both been at St. Martha’s together since my stay. After our drink and my medical appointment, Sara said, “is today the day?” and looked meaningfully at the hill. And we set off. It was surreal to make it all the way to the top.

It wasn’t entirely as envisioned. My gait wasn’t as smooth and confident as I’d imagined from my wheelchair in September. I was winded by the slope and had to stop to catch my breath. (That certainly wouldn’t have happened pre-stroke to this long-distance pilgrim!) And when we got to the top it turned out there was no way to actually touch the tower, which turns out to sit behind fences, cattle, and construction.

Even dreams that come true don’t usually do so in the ways we’ve imagined.

But – it felt wonderful to reach the top just the same! And I was thankful every step.

“Telltale Heart“

(apart from the title, what’s below doesn’t actually have much to do with the Edgar Allen Poe short story, which is frighteningly narrated here, if you’re interested)

Today I was at the hospital for another important step in recovery. I’m still doing physio at St. Martha’s at least twice a week…odd to remember how when I was new to Antigonish I used to think I should go see the place because I’d never been inside. But this morning wasn’t physio. After three tries and two different technicians, they got an IV line into my arm for what’s called an “agitated saline contrast,” or echocardiogram bubble test, pumping “bubbles” into my vein, then watching them travel to the heart to see if my surgery in April had really closed the hole between my heart’s upper chambers.

The great news: it had. No bubbles got through. This means that now no future clots can sneak through there, either. I said thank you to Dr Amy Hendricks, and told her she plays a mean piano and violin (I had been surprised to see her perform in a wonderful concert at St Ninian Cathedral). She laughed and said thank you, and that everyone needs to have a few hobbies on the side. That’s life in a small town. (Pictured are my friend and fellow pilgrim Sister RéAnne and I at the concert before it began).

“My Left Foot (and Hand)”

This week I also got my Botox shot for leg spasticity. Or rather six shots, into my left calf, as I lay on my stomach on a clinic bed in Halifax. There was no immediate change, except some mild flu-like symptoms I’m presently experiencing. Apparently it takes 4-6 weeks for the poison to reach full efficacy and (we hope) work its wonders. However, tonight I feel like my leg already swings a bit easier, which might be psychosomatic. In any case, convincing my plastic brain to accept that my leg can be trusted again is apparently part of the point. We’ll see!

I’m starting to be able to do some slow and basic typing with my left hand. Just barely. Soon the hand tires and my xpinxkixe finger (there it is, doing it again), starts drooping and hitting errant keys and I have to go back to one hand. But… it’s a start. The trick is holding my left hand in the air without the fingers curling in (spasticity) or the whole hand dropping, then adding to that the coordination of using fingers to distinguish between the “a” and the “d” keys when they are only beginning to remember their connection to my brain…

“The Gatto Came Back”

Okay, that heading holds a fairly obscure pun, but IYKYK. (If you don’t, click here for “Gatto”; and watch Canadian entertainer Fred Penner sing the song here !)

My two universities have both been incredibly supportive through these months of stroke and stroke recovery. Firstly, Concordia’s Dept of Theological Studies and its chair, Dr. André Gagné, worked to renew for one last time my status as an “affiliate assistant professor” there. I love still being associated this way with Montreal, even though the thought of a trip to the big city and taking public transit in my present condition gives me the heeby-jeebies.

Second, Saint Francis Xavier (StFX) and my colleagues here in the Religious Studies department have been nothing short of wonderful. In addition to taking over my teaching last fall, interim chair Dr Robert Kennedy dropped by with a stunning white orchid from the department after my heart surgery. You may recall that they also sent flowers and cards during my hospital stay, and Sara got gift certificates for take-out and ready-meals from our then Dean of Arts office and the department. Recently, the University also made “a big deal” of my winning a Sask Book Award with a special news release. New colleague Dr Gerjan Altenburg invited me fishing with him and his son. And this last week, Dr. Erin Morton, Associate Vice-President, Research, Graduate and Professional Studies, and head of the Gatto Chair Committee, confirmed that my application for a one-year extension of my chairship was approved. This means that the research travel and meetings for which I had funding will not be lost to my months in hospital. I’m incredibly grateful!

“Running Back to Saskatoons”

I’ve been hanging ’round hospitals” is one of the lines from the 1972 The Guess Who song “Running Back to Saskatoon,” which also mentions libraries, grease monkeys, and Moosomin SK. But it’s actually now that I’m home from the hospital that I’ve really been able to enjoy Saskatoon (or as they say here in Nova Scotia, “serviceberry”) season.

It’s a good year here on our three acres for Saskatoons, even if you’d laugh to watch how slow I am to pick them. My first attempt at a Saskatoon crumble was only okay (not enough berries). But today is Saskatoon pie day. I followed a recipe from the beautiful – and fun – cookbook Flapper Pie and a Blue Prairie Sky, which devotes several pages to Saskatoons and their place in prairie cuisine and culture.

It’s not a beautiful pie…I used a store crust, and my thumb marks disappeared in the baking. But it’s mine. And what I really wanted to say was not so much about Saskatoons (or pies!) as the feelings that arose in me this year as I picked the deep purple berries. The other evening I was out during the “golden hour” with my plastic pail. Somewhere in the near distance I could hear children playing. A rooster crowed from one of the nearby farms, and the songbirds – we have a lot of song sparrows, vireo, yellow warblers and more – were calling to each other.

Despite the mosquitoes, deer flies, and ticks, suddenly there was so much peace and joy welling up inside that I could feel it like a physical presence. Here I was, standing on my feet, reaching with both hands, however awkwardly, for berries, and tasting the sweetness of this land where I live.

I feel incredibly blessed to be living, period, and to be living in the country. Yes, the power goes out sometimes, yes, there are critters, some great, mostly small, to be aware of and learn to live with, yes, there is grass cutting and incessant yard care, and yes, there are no bakeries or restaurants or cool little take-out spots just around the corner like I enjoyed in Montreal. But there are other pleasures, like sitting with tea looking out at the little bit of salt water that fingers in at the foot of our yard, like watching herons rise up into flight or eagles float lazily overhead. Like tossing ripe Saskatoons into your mouth and hearing the soft tap-tap-tap of a downy woodpecker somewhere deeper in the bush. And feeling alive and connected to it all.

“Radio Ga Ga”

This old song by Queen actually has pretty prescient lyrics in the age of TikTok and Instagram.

Another recent highlight for me was being interviewed by CBC Radio One Montreal’s Sonali Karnick about my new book, Someone Else’s Saint: How a Scottish Pilgrimage Led to Nova Scotia. Interview HERE. Because I’ve known lovely, warm, and good-spirited Sonali for years, and All in a Weekend’s equally warm and thoughtful producer Jill Walker and I are so comfortable with each other, the interview felt like a happy reunion. My friend and fellow author Ken Wilson said as much on social media: “You two sounded like old friends. It was like eavesdropping on a fascinating conversation at the next table.” (Speaking of fascinating, Ken’s book Walking the Bypass is coming out this fall). Did I mention you could hear Sonali’s and my conversation here?

These Are the Moments

The 2009 album “These Are the Moments” by local Cape Breton group The Rankin Family contains the song “Fare Thee Well Love” – which is my wish to you, in your moments, whatever and wherever they are..

That’s a snapshot of what’s been happening. It’s been ten months since the event that overturned my life last fall. That one moment of garbled speech, of a tingle running down my arm, of Sara running for the Aspirin and calling 911, has led to all these moments since.

Isn’t it profound how a single moment can change our lives, and how often that happens, in some form or another?

And yet life still goes on, until it doesn’t. And for this moment now, I’m thankful. And thankful to you for taking a moment to read this. Tonight is garbage night. Time to head out with the wheelbarrow, and then maybe try that pie…

[Update: As they say in the Maritimes, it was some good.]

Categories
stroke-recovery

Six-Month Strokeaversary: Signs of Spring

Wow. Hard to believe it’s been six months since a shudder ran down my left arm and I found myself unable to speak for a couple seconds and Sara called an ambulance and ran for the aspirin.

And…the TIA and major stroke and everything that followed.

When I was wheeled into St Martha’s Regional hospital on a stretcher last September I had no idea it would be home for three months. Autumn was just beginning.

Now here we are at the spring equinox, six months later. The day before spring, the ice came off our little inlet, and those annoying fake ladybugs are waking up all around the house.

The solar panels we had installed last fall are finally free of snow and making power (I check them compulsively).

The seedlings we planted last year have survived.

All signs of spring. Another sign: I’ll have to learn how to tie my shoes again, since pull-on winter boot season is nearly over.

Here’s what else is happening…

My Heart Procedure

I had a pre-op appointment in Halifax last month, and Sara and I used our rare visit to the big city to have a date at IKEA (how romantic!). We then bought a car-load of groceries we can’t get in Antigonish at the surprisingly-well-stocked hole-in-the-wall that is Big Ray Convenience and Asian Store in Dartmouth.

During the appointment the surgeon teased us about being professors and grading him – but we said he already got an A+ just for taking me on. The procedure to close my PFO (Patent Foramen Ovale) will take place in a few weeks, in April. It involves inserting a soft metal “umbrella” into my heart through a tube inserted in my groin. (Really looking forward.) Once in place, it expands to close the hole in between the upper chambers of my heart (for explanation see here). Of course I’m nervous. But I’m thankful it’s considered a low-risk procedure, with recovery times of only a couple of days in most cases, and well worth it for the significant reduction in future stroke risk.

Bad Timing for the Someone Else’s Saint Party

Someone Else’s Saint: How A Scottish Pilgrimage Led to Nova Scotia is coming out within the month (mid-April). It won the Pottersfield Prize for Non-Fiction last year before it was published, and the prize was publication! It’s about walking the Whithorn Way in Scotland only to find a strong connection to its saint (Ninian) right here in Antigonish, then inaugurating a new Ninian Way in Nova Scotia. I’d already arranged for a launch at the wonderful Antigonish Heritage Museum. To my delight, 2024 Canadian Traditional Musician of the Year Mary-Beth Carty had agreed to play a couple songs during the evening! But when I got the notice from the hospital about my procedure, of course it turned out to be the day before the launch. Drat. So keep your eyes peeled for an announcement once I find a rescheduled date! Fingers crossed it will still work for Mary-Beth Carty!

Flu and Field Trip

This last month I caught the flu. It really knocked back my energy … and my stroke progress. Fortunately, Sara quarantined in the other end of the house and sanitized like a surgeon and didn’t catch it, and nursed me back to health over the week or so when I was most affected. I recovered in time to lead our team-taught StFX Religious Studies class “Intro to World Religions” on a field trip to Saint Ninian Cathedral, where Father Danny MacLennan seemed delighted to welcome a gaggle of young people, and even took some brave souls down to the crypt “where the bishops are buried.”

Hearts in Motion

Twice a week I drive to town, park at a handicapped spot on campus, and spend an hour at the gym with about ten others, as part of a public health program called “Hearts in Motion.”. The others are there post heart attack or heart surgery, mostly: as far as I can tell, I’m the only stroke survivor (I’m the only participant with partial paralysis…trying to do the “windmill” warm ups with my left arm). I didn’t know what to expect starting out, but going to the gym has been great for me. The first weeks I couldn’t even get on the elliptical machine, much less use it. Now it’s my favourite. I can actually hold the moving hand grips, and release the left one and grasp it again mid-step (sometimes). The program’s physio suggested I try the rowing machine. I was doubtful – I’ve never liked that device. But he was right: the pairing of my left and right arms that’s necessary for “pulling back” the rope and handle seems to be very good for training my affected left arm to stretch and reach. There are only four more sessions, so I may have to get a membership for spring and summer just to keep up on the machines. I’m still incapable of running, even very slowly, on a treadmill. I’d trip and fall. But I’m more and more tempted to try, just briefly…

Left Leg and Foot

I’m fortunate that the Physio and Occupational Therapist outpatient departments at St Martha’s hospital are still keeping me on. They say they keep seeing progress, and tell me I’m unusual (I think in a good way?). At my most recent strength and flexibility test, the physio told me that I’ve recovered close to normal strength in my left leg. “But I still have quite a limp,” I told her. “You can see that.” “That’s your brain,” she replied. “At some point it may get back to automatically lifting your foot and adjusting your gait. But there’s no way of knowing when that might happen…” I’m hoping this is like a pilgrimage path in Scotland that I was on with Ken Wilson and Christine Ramsay. Our guide at the time told us: “Use is the cure.” The other evening some great music came on and Sara and I had a quick dance. At the end of it she was laughing: “that felt like before your stroke,” she said. “You were leading like the old Matthew!” Ahhh….that’s what I’m aiming at.

Left Arm and Hand

My use of my left hand continues to improve….but very, very slowly, from my perspective. My guitar chording continues to get better: now I can play E,D,A, and G with minimal help from my right hand. But it’s slow, and my strength in pressing down the strings sometimes lacks. I gave up entirely on trying to type with it. I’ll have to get back to that.

Janna, my wonderful therapy aid at St. Martha’s, makes me attempt to move clothespins from a steel wire as a strength exercise for my left hand. But what I enjoy most is playing catch with her! I’ve gotten to the point where on a good day I can catch a gently tossed tennis ball with my left hand, against my stomach, several times, and often succeed in tossing it back, although sometimes my hand won’t let the ball go.

The issue with my hand is what is called “tension” or “spasticity.” My fingers will be loose until I squeeze something (say, toothpaste). Then, instead of loosening again, my fingers stay curled – locked! Sometimes the best technique is to ignore the hand briefly, until the fingers relax again on their own. It’s a bit like trying to fool your own brain. The spasticity seems to be diminishing. But it’s a slow process.

Poetry and 2025 Saskatchewan Book Awards

My first submission of my “stroke poetry collection” went nowhere, so I’ll be editing the poetry and trying again. But yesterday I got great news that really lifted my spirits! My memoir The Good Walk: Creating New Paths on Traditional Prairie Trails is shortlisted in the “Publishing” category for the 2025 Saskatchewan Book Awards! On May 9 there will be a fancy awards ceremony in Regina, with the lieutenant governor in attendance. For now my cardiac doctor is telling me no travel. But I can’t wait for May! I’m trying to get my brother Mark, who lives there, to go in my place JUUUUUUUUUUUUUUST in case there is an award to accept.

The End of Term Approaches

All of the hospital staff seemed shocked that I planned to go back to work upon discharge. I don’t regret going back to teaching so soon. But now that the term is winding down I’m realising just how much energy it’s taking for me to go to town four days a week for teaching and physio (and, of course, I’ll stop by the grocery store or Canadian Tire often as well). The OT consultant from Halifax couldn’t believe my weekly schedule. “Of course you’re not getting through all your home exercises,” she said. “When would you do them?” Her main advice to me was to take it easier, especially after I developed frozen shoulder in my right arm last month. Sara declared the dishwasher (reaching down to load and reaching up to put dishes away) off limits and slapped a hefty 100-dollar fine on any disobedience!!! (I only made that mistake once.)

So taking it easy is part of my plan for spring. I’ll take inspiration from the Christmas cactus Sara bought me last fall for the hospital. It budded at Christmas. But in the end, no flowers materialised. Only now, after the equinox, at home, are the blooms coming.

I pray that in your life and mine, there will be delicate beauty developing in its own time this spring. In a world where small, powerful men seem so determined to distract us from their greed and incompetence by emphasizing division, brutality, and ugliness, may we be like this Christmas cactus: blooming boldly, especially where and when it is least expected, and most appreciated.