Pain, frustration, and a rainbow of a different colour

Many of my posts online tend to be about pain.

I never start out intending to write out the dark thoughts and painful struggles in my life yet, somehow, when given a pen name and a blank page they just begin to flow. Perhaps it has something to do with the lack of safe places I have to pour out my confusion when I’m away from the screen.

and yet it isn’t enough. I think a good deal of my ranting is do to my feelings of helplessness. I cannot change my disability. No matter what I do, time will erode my joints at its own pace and as I try to live a healthier life in order to maintain my joints I see them erode faster. Life isn’t fair.

I’ve tried pouring my pain out in prayer but, even though the “stereotypical” Christian in me cringes at the words, sometimes I feel like I’m talking to the wall (or ceiling in my case, I’ve had epic ceiling rants). I know my God is big enough to handle my pain but sometimes I’d love a more tangible response.

However, I’ve found a pain I can do something about, at least, if nothing else, I can share this pain with those of you brave enough to enter in with me.

Now, here’s a disclaimer.

I don’t like pain. Honest, I actually rather despise it and wish it’s lessons had a different method of instruction. In this particular case, I’ve walked away more times than I care to imagine and yet, find myself inexplicably returning to the scene which causes my heart to break. But, you know, I think sometimes, there are things worth breaking over. Sometimes, there is no getting over or working through because the injustice of the situation demands a voice, and those who suffer as a result demand someone to cry when they, themselves, cannot.

Whether it is the sheer overwhelming need, fear of the unknown, lack of education, or a society which reinforces the devaluing of those who are different (and to be honest, humanity is to complex to label a specific cause for each circumstance) half a world away there are thousands of orphans who exist and nothing more, a number of which will simply fade away without a family to mourn their absence.

These are the disabled orphans. The children who are locked away, left in cribs to wither, who’s gifts and dreams lay unrealized. These are the children who break my heart.

Margaret is one of these children

Last week, Margaret moved from the “Other Angel” page on Reece’s Rainbow to the “in Loving Memory” Page.

I didn’t know this child, never could, and yet, the fact that she has passed is an event, in my eyes, worthy of noting.

Reece’s rainbow is an organization dedicated to stemming the tide of stories like Margaret’s. They exist to advocate, fund raise, and build general awareness about the plight of disabled orphans around the world who are facing a life of unmet potential and even early death due to a lack of adequate care in their area’s for children in their position.

It was interesting when I found Reece’s. I’m a student on loans, disabled, and, at that time, single. I could not do anything . . . or so I thought. Turns out, all you need to do to make a difference is pray. The first child I saw was a beautiful little girl that I committed to pray for. Her forever family is currently waiting for their travel date to go and bring their daughter home.

I’m still a student, now a newly wed, and for the time still cannot do much for these kids but I can write and I can ask you for help.

Sometimes, a little movement can start an avalanche.

You can pass this post along.

Visit There is plenty of information and many children who need someone to care for them, even if it’s praying from a difference.

If you like coffee, think about ordering from All the proceeds go towards, the little dude on the front page’s adoption fund, helping his forever family whenever they find their son.

Maybe, if you’re like me and can’t sit idly by, you can commit to formally or informally fund raise for one of the children or families or pray for a child who is in the process.

If I’m going to be fired up, may as well be for a purpose 🙂

Be forewarned. I’d like to pick a different child each week and highlight them on here, in the hopes that maybe, cases like Margaret will become the exception.


Confused Introvert on the Prairies

I`m a confused introvert. At the very least, I`m a conflicted one.

Living in a small town can be a blessing to an introvert. Small crowds and wide open fields means there are usually a multitude of ways in which you can find some time, on your own, and recharge. Even as I write this my company is the sound of crickets in the field next to the house which, without exaggeration, stretches as far as the eye can see.

The problem comes when the introvert in me says it`s time to be social. In a small town, you run the risk of over-exposure. We used to joke that you could sneeze in your room with the doors closed and curtains drawn, but it would still be news across town in under an hour.

Small town humour. It`s great, at least, until the lady across town asks how your allergies are going.

Sometimes I cringe against the interconnectedness that abounds here, other times I recognize it for the blessing it is and do my level best to interact with the community in which I live.

However, I also live in a college town. That means that at this time of year, it can be hard to find anyone with some spare time to talk. What`s a girl to do?

I suppose I could be patient . . . However, as someone who struggles with depressive thoughts and addictive behaviour, probably not the best option.

I could talk to my husband more, but, he’s not intended to be my entire social world. Not fair to him or me.

I could go online. This is actually the route I took. After all, I have lots of friends from life outside of school online.

Or at least, I thought I did.

It’s hard when an old friend doesn’t want to talk. . . it’s harder when none of them do.

Doubts begin to creep into your head. Did they ever care? Or were you merely a project or worse a duty. Interaction based on religious obligation is my worst fear, and tonight, that fear rattles around my head.

Were the relationships that governed my high school years, my summers, my life in Ontario all merely an illusion? Some joke played on the one person who wouldn’t get it . . . me?


I know my thoughts are dark and I know some relationship must have been real but tonight I feel dejected. Perhaps I’d be better off going on a walk.