April 2018

Looking at this image makes me chuckle, remembering when my grandmother once lectured me about how smoking was hastening my aging. It seems that smoking isn’t the culprit after all.

At that time, I noticed some fine lines on my forehead and around my eyes and mouth. However, you wouldn’t have known that I stood at 5'2" and weighed 183 lbs, which classified me as obese according to the Body Mass Index. Beneath those pajama pants, I had well-toned legs that managed over 12,000 steps before 7:00 am, and my arms were strong enough to handle heavy lifting if necessary.

I had no idea what life had in store for me.

October 2018

Just a month before this picture was captured, a 500-pound steer calf had knocked me down and stood on my back. I suffered hairline fractures in my pelvis, broken ribs, and severe soft tissue injuries from twisting to push the calf off.

Twelve days after that incident, my sister unexpectedly passed away.

This photo was taken during her Celebration of Life on our farm, marking the first time I had seen my son since 2010.

It was during this period that I began to realize my disillusionment regarding some crucial relationships in my life.

Despite my physical injuries, my mother, brothers, and nephews left everything to me. Thankfully, a couple of true friends stepped in, providing meals and helping keep our home in order for the gathering after the service.

Previously, I had viewed these friends merely as acquaintances, while some of my closest friends didn’t even check in on us.

As months passed, I found myself grappling with anger every time my so-called ‘best friend’ called, lamenting how much she missed me and wanted to meet for coffee. She couldn’t understand that I couldn’t sit comfortably due to my injuries. I offered to have coffee at my house, where I could lounge in my recliner, but she never came, and even now, four years later, sitting or lying flat remains painfully challenging.

May 2019

On my 47th birthday, I was struck by a profound sense of gratitude for surviving my encounter with the calf. Despite ongoing pain, I was slowly getting around.

My heart ached for the disappointments I faced from those I had thought would support me, but I found comfort in the simple joys of farm life.

March 2020

None of us were prepared for what lay ahead.

By then, I had mostly healed from the calf incident, though I would always carry the reminder in my pelvis.

As I distanced myself from society, feeling disillusioned by the self-centeredness I perceived in others, I found solace in my animals and my faith. I was focused on expanding my small animal breeding programs and working diligently to renovate my shelters.

When the province announced school closures, I began homeschooling my special needs granddaughter. My days were consumed with her emotional and educational needs while nights were dedicated to my business. Sleep became a rare luxury.

In June 2020, another farm accident resulted in severe damage to my right arm. I was left unable to move my fingers. The orthopedic surgeon informed me I would require at least four surgeries to repair the damage, which included severe soft tissue and nerve injuries.

I expressed my concern that being unable to walk for several weeks was not feasible for me, as walking was my primary means of mobility. He placed me on the waitlist, stating that without surgery, my condition would not improve.

Again, the same acquaintances who had supported me after my sister’s passing returned with meals and help around the house. Another friend unexpectedly appeared, tending to my goats and daily chores.

Once more, I was reminded that many in my life valued me only for what I could provide, rather than as a friend.

I prayed for guidance and healing, recalling Morris Goodman’s story from “The Miracle Man,” where he overcame severe injuries against all odds through faith and determination.

If he could be healed, surely God could help me, too. I committed to my healing, diligently working on my recovery despite the pain.

Ultimately, I achieved my own miracle! Gradually, I regained mobility, and while my fine motor skills and strength still needed work, my surgeon acknowledged my progress, stating that my efforts had exceeded his expectations.

May 2021

Life, or perhaps divine intervention, certainly has a unique way of imparting valuable lessons.

This picture, taken on my 49th birthday, reminds me of the bond I shared with an old goat who has been part of my journey.

I was present at her birth, assisting with a challenging delivery. After her twin arrived unexpectedly, I had to ensure she could breathe and survive, as her mother initially showed no interest in her.

Though she was a full-sized goat, she weighed just over two pounds at birth. I named her Pinty.

I raised her by hand, fostering a deep connection.

Years later, after losing her first kid shortly after birth, Pinty grieved deeply, searching for her lost baby and seeking comfort from me. My heart ached for her.

After months of watching her sorrow, I made the difficult decision to sell her to a friend under the condition that I could repurchase her if they ever decided to sell.

That call came shortly after my 2020 accident. Pinty had aged, and her owners could no longer care for her. I felt devastated at the thought of losing her again, but with my husband and my friend’s encouragement, I brought her home.

Together, we worked to nurse her back to health, and by the time this picture was taken, we were both nearing a year into our recovery.

Shortly before this photo, I faced the loss of another brother, realizing once again how my family often overlooks my emotional needs, relying on me to handle the tough responsibilities.

Despite not having spoken to him in 14 years, I found myself making end-of-life decisions for him, a burden I had to bear alone.

March 2022

Looking at these recent images, I can clearly see the toll the past four years have taken on me. My hair is nearly all grey, and the fine lines have morphed into deep-set wrinkles.

Every day, I strive to find gratitude amid the heaviness of life. Despite numerous challenges, I am aware of the many blessings I still have.

The world seems chaotic, from the pandemic to the ongoing conflict in Ukraine. I’m grateful to live in a quiet area, away from the hustle and bustle.

Although I try to set aside my worries, there’s always something to stress over, making it difficult to fully surrender those burdens to God.

Recently, I shared a conversation with my granddaughter while selecting music for a road trip. I wanted to play my sister’s playlist, recalling the joy of dancing together.

Her disbelief that I had ever danced caught me off guard.

Perhaps it’s time to revive the simplest joys in life: music, dancing, laughter, and happiness!

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