
Today is Valentine’s Day. Brian and I only celebrated this in the early days of our marriage. Later, we jokingly referred to it as a day for amateurs. We showed each other our love on a regular basis and didn’t need a day on the calendar to remind us to do so.
Nevertheless, Brian was definitely on my mind when I awoke.
A glance outside showed the lowest tide I’d seen so far on this trip. I quickly got dressed and went out onto the beach. The sunshine and slight sea breeze were the perfect start to my day. Tranquility washed over me as I soaked in the sounds of birdcall and water lapping the shore.
I felt this was not a to be a brisk, stride along the beach day. Instead I meandered (isn’t that an awesome word?). It had been several years since I’d spent time looking for shells and this morning felt like the right time to resume this lost interest.
Pleasant memories of shell hunting with Brian accompanied me. I chuckled at the thought of having too many shells to carry and Brian using his t-shirt as a carryall! Then I spotted a shell tumbled by the tide enough to be almost translucent. These were not as common and the only ones he had collected. His goal was to turn them into something unique and beautiful for his grandchildren. The perfect project was never found.
I picked it up, a precious reminder of what we had once shared. Tears sprang to my eyes, making it difficult to focus. I couldn’t seem to move forward so turned back towards home.
I hadn’t gone far when a glimmer in a pool of shallow water caused me to stop and investigate. I bent closer to see what was floating there. I couldn’t quite tell and had to scoop it out to get a good look. There in my hand, was one of Brian’s favourite shell types – this one in a heart shape.
In a way that only God can, I had just been presented with a reminder that I am still seen and loved. Shell cradled gently in the palm of my hand, I felt the invisible hug. I returned home, knowing I am blessed – for what I had, what is now, and whatever lies before me.












“Did you get to choose your birthday menu, like when we were kids?”, I asked my older brother. 
Over the years, I’ve received many lovely gifts. Some were beautiful and extravagant. Others were practical items I’ve used and enjoyed. Still others filled an unspoken desire.
Underneath, in various handwritings, were words like loving, understanding, compassionate, funny and caring. For me, this was priceless.
Plate in hand, Miss K headed to the kitchen for the last piece of dessert. I noticed a slight hesitation as she approached the counter and said, “You don’t have to have it now. If you’re too full, you can wait until you’re ready. I’ll make sure it’s saved for you.”
The elderly man we passed in the stairwell used broken English and hand gestures to convey his message. We smiled and nodded, even though we weren’t sure what he was trying to tell us. All we knew was it had something to do with the stairs.
Last week I had the privilege of being the speaker for an event in a small seaport town in Mexico. Women (and a few men) from three countries came together for the evening. The majority spoke Spanish and my message would not have been understood if not for the amazing translator I worked with.
The goal was to share how we all have a role to play and can come together despite our different languages and cultural backgrounds. As one of the volunteers involved in bringing this evening to fruition, I experienced the teamwork necessary as a perfect example of this.
Our theme was inspired by the song Bind Us Together and the evening ended with it being sung in both languages simultaneously.
For this reason, it seemed fitting to include an illustration pertaining to music near the close of my talk. Years ago, I was a member of a four-part harmony acapella chorus, so I drew on that experience.
The melody line was complimented by tenor, baritone and bass. While the melody could have stood on its own, it became much richer when combined with the other notes.
Conversely, some of the other parts sounded discordant when heard on their own. Their notes were meant to enrich others by blending together. The resulting harmony was far more pleasing than any one voice could produce.
The point is, when we come together to help each other, each of us sings a more beautiful song. In these days of uncertainty, some are singing notes of fear. If I come alongside with my notes of understanding, encouragement and support the tune can change from despair to hope.
Instead of wondering if your notes can enhance mine, I need to be looking for ways I can enrich yours. It’s amazing what can happen when we are bound together with these chords (cords) of love.
Mother’s Day is a bittersweet time for me. Twenty years ago, on Mother’s Day weekend, my mom went to her eternal home. After all these years, I still miss her. If I concentrate hard enough, I can almost hear her voice.
The statement took me by surprise. “Deep love is always accompanied by deep suffering,” our pastor said. My thoughts of love were of joy not suffering, but in that moment I could see how true these words were.
My husband and I attended an event a couple of days ago that was an early celebration for February 14th. We are in Mexico and the celebration was different from what we experience at home.