SIMPLY LIFE with Kathleen Gibson

Since Rick (my husband) contracted West Nile Disease in 2007, we’ve told his story across North America, both in person, and through the book, West Nile Diary.

Along the way, we’ve heard often that our story has encouraged others facing their own difficult life situations,  particularly health crises. We’ve also heard a repeated request for the book in audio format, from those who either aren’t able to hold it to read it, or simply would rather listen. 

SO….because we love bringing this message of strength and hope, I’ve recorded an audio-version West Nile Diary, and as my Christmas gift, I’ve posted it on my site. If you look up, you’ll find it in the menu under A Christmas Present For You!

Most of the sections (except the first) opens with the sounds of flipping pages, typing, and the quiet humming of one of my favourite hymns. Unfortunately, that didn’t translate well into the mp3 version. Just be patient for the first 10 or 15 seconds, and the reading will come.

Merry Christmas….enjoy the audiobook over the holidays, and please share it with anyone you think needs it! The links may not be permanent.

Ever fought thick black clouds of depression? I have. Among other tools I employ to combat it–taught me in a Depression Recovery workshop by Dr. Neil Nedley and my good friend Glenda, a nutritional consultant–is to GET OUTSIDE every day, to breathe deeply, and enjoy God’s good nature.

Through the magic of Smilebox, come along–for a minute or two–with Glenda and me as we don our cross-country skis and head down a rather long (for me!) and breathtakingly beautiful trail. This may not raise your own seratonin levels, but perhaps it’ll inspire you to take in some fresh air yourself. (If you can’t find that where you live, you’re welcome to come and sample the pure prairie air in my beautiful province of Saskatchewan,  Canada.)

Godspeed, and God’s cheer! Now…into the woods. (Play fullscreen by clicking on the icon on the upper right once the slideshow opens.)

After our sudden onslaught of serious winter, we reverted to glorious autumn, almost summer, again in my portion of the prairie. Sweet winds, blue skies, blooming pansies in bold, bold colours.  (Whoever first used the phrase “like a pansy” to imply “wimpy” had no acquaintance with the flowers. They’re some of the toughest blossoms in the garden.)

Today, though, it looks as though winter has remembered that it had started a task and is slowly turning around to finish it. My outside thermometer reads bang-on zero. And yes..the pansies are still blooming–that’s some of them up there in the photo.

Does anyone else remember, as children in Sunday School, singing  ”Dare to Be a Daniel, dare to stand alone. Dare to have a purpose firm, and dare to make it known”? I sure do.

I’ve been humming that song a lot lately. I’ve been spending a bit of time in that Old Testament book of Daniel. How had I forgotten that the first several chapters all have happy endings? Eating vegetables proved best; God shut the lions’ mouths; the dreams, identified and interpreted by Daniel came true; and two kings became God-believers through Daniel’s “dare to stand alone,” dare-to-bloom-in-winter kind of faith. Wow! Daniel was a pansy. Who knew?

And most of us think we’re doing well if we’re bold enough to share our faith with a non-threatening stranger. Can we do better? Dare ya.

Just when I change my website background to a nice fall theme, the season, with an uncharacteristic lack of tact, booted us out. Early this week a 24 hour blizzard shoved us clear into the middle of winter.

After insane winds and a foot of damp, heavy snow, we’re still in shock. Making mad scrambles for shovels, mitts, and toques. We’ve had cancellations right and left. Highway mishaps. Frozen car doors, and irate birds.

My willow and lilac trees, still in full leaf, appear comically out of place. The raspberry canes  rest on the ground at the foot of the clothesline cross, as do multiple branches all over the yard. Weighted down by such lovely stuff. Pity. And far too much like me, sometimes. 

But the white…the white. So lovely. So lovely. See for yourself.

We’ve just returned from several weeks on the road. We left our prairie home in fall’s dawn, and arrived home to find delinquent summer. People from our area have been waiting for promised summer since June. It never showed up. Now, on this Thanksgiving weekend, people are raking leaves under a blazing sun. Sweating. Tall glasses of lemonade nearby. The air (sublime change) feels dry. No puddles in the basements. There are, alas, mosquitoes, exacting their due for a lost season of bloodsucking.

On the road home we noticed combines scurrying across the fields like so many beetles. In a week there could be snow, but here in the Canadian prairies–as elsewhere–farmers literally make hay while the sun shines. It hasn’t done that nearly enough this year, they say. We all say. (Sorry, God. We know you have an absolutely perfect perspective on the relentless deluging of this area since last spring. And, on the bright side, things are awfully green around here.)

Across the ocean, European weather forecasters predict the coldest winter in a thousand years.  Their Canadian counterparts say we’re in for record-breaking snows on this side of the water. 

The times, they are a changin’. Astonishing advances in technology, policitical upheaval, odd alliances worldwide…doesn’t it make you wonder? For millenia, Christians have anticipated Jesus promised return. Some have prophesied dates and times, even waited in hills to be the first to see him return in the clouds–a foolish thing, in light of Jesus’ comment during his earth-days, that no one knows the time of his return–not even himself.

Nevertheless…it makes me wonder…like our long-awaited summer, could Jesus return today? And if so, if I could really know, how would I then live this day?