Shannon Van Roekel's Blog

Went for a walk today.
Decided to listen to the tunes I had on my phone (which my brother had loaded for me) rather than take the "extra" mp3. So glad I did.
Bryn Terfel. Singing "You'll Never Walk Alone"

When you walk through a storm
Hold your head up high
And don't be afraid of the dark

At the end of the storm
Is a golden sky
And the sweet silver song of the lark

Walk on through the wind
Walk on through the rain
Though your dreams be tossed and blown

Walk on walk on with hope in your heart
And you'll never walk alone
You'll never walk alone

I realized on that path, heavy with the scent of warmed ferns and ripe salmon berries, that I had company. I wasn't alone. Nor had I ever been. Nor would I be in the unknown future.
Not a particularly brilliant observation to those who walk with Jesus Christ, but a tangible reassurance at a time when I needed to know: He is with me. 
 This put me in mind of another song, a favorite since I was a young girl:

I NEVER WALK ALONE 
Words & Music by Alfred H Ackley 

Verse 1 
I never walk alone, I have the Saviour, 
Who walks beside me everywhere I go; 
My heart rejoices in His loving favor, 
And all who will His saving grace may know. 

Chorus 
I never walk alone, Christ walks beside me, 
He is the dearest Friend I've ever known, 
With such a Friend to comfort and to guide me, 
I never, no, I never walk alone. 

Verse 2 
I never walk alone, in stormy weather, 
When winds of trouble sweep about my head; 
I know I'm safe, because we are together, And 'round me His protecting love is spread. 


Hope in the heart is good. Jesus is much much better. 
A real person. Powerful, loving, delightful and pure. 
I am so glad to have Him to lean on. This path has stretched further than I imagined it could. This path has been full of bumps and surprises that were unexpected and, yes, disappointing.
I don't know how far I have to go still.
Perhaps I will be white haired and hobble, like the woman I passed along the way today, before I finish this trail of life. 
We cannot know the answer to that simple question, "When will we get there?"
But we can begin to walk with Him today.
He, who is our "there!"
He is where I am heading. And He walks with me now. So I don't need to hurry and get it over with. I can enjoy His company and begin to know and enjoy the ending before it's begun...
Happily. Ever. After.

"Mommy, I have to pee, right now!"
This from my oldest "nonbiological" daughter. The younger sister is not potty trained yet.
I am 48 years old, struggle to get up from squat position (do you know how many hours are in that position when helping a youngster potty train), need my reading glasses, but can't remember where I put 'em! I am, eh hem, older now.
But she has to pee right now. So I pull little sister off the monkey bars and she screams defiantly, causing all the many other parents to look with suspicion upon me. Older daughter and I run to the public washroom (my arms are much stronger from hauling little sister but my hips say "48" loud and clear every morning), where, upon entering, she wrinkles her nose and wants to know why it smells so bad and is so dirty. Good question. We enter the handicap stall (something I have gotten into the habit of doing in the company of both toddler and preschooler). Continuing her litany, older daughter points out the dirty wet floor and mucky seat, which I am in the process of lining with toilet paper before I set her bottom on it, which causes me to lose my grip on daughter # 2. I am quick. I automatically turn to retrieve a hold on her, but she already has two hands planted on the wet floor, is smiling at me and saying "water". Little Einsteinette.
Someone reminds me she HAS to pee. I ignore the possible bacterial invasion occurring to my youngest, heft the four year old upon the throne (she's comfortable with that spot--figuratively if not literally) and she pees about 1/ 16th of a cup, jumps off and says she is done. Bacteria invasion has been suspended, I am now in my familiar squat, with 2 yr old (safe) on my lap.
"No Way." I say it very firmly and heft her back on the seat. Toilet paper seat protection has now been badly compromised. I do not care. We will all likely die together of STDs. We are here, she will pee. Which she does with a vengeance. And more.
My haunches cave at the same time the 2 yr old escapes, this time through the unlocked bathroom stall door into the just-as-filthy hallway and sink area.
I must retrieve her and I do, locking the stall door behind me this time, as we three females commence with the work at hand--bottom. I wipe the bum while using very negative encouragement, very loudly, at youngest daughter regarding all tactile discovery of the "water" on the floor. (One of my adult daughters is an Early Childhood Educator and tries to educate me--unsuccessfully.)
WE ARE DONE!
I hold both their hands tightly and we walk to a grungy tap that, I discover, doesn't work. Diaper wipes have become my new best friend.

It's been like this, more or less, all year.
I'm getting used to it. I don't like it all the time.
BUT I love my girls. I love the light shining out of their eyes from the knowledge and experience they are receiving of safe, firm love. Unchanging, responsible, committed love.
2012 was hard.
But it was a very good year.

Hello,
I am the biological mother of five grown children who finds herself back in the toddler season with two unbiological daughters, a 3 yr. old and 2 yr. old.
Whenever I go shopping I see women my age with their grandchildren and I wonder how many hours before their daughter finishes work and comes to pick up the kids, and I wonder what that would be like...
I've spent a lot of time in the last (almost) year wondering how I got myself back into the toddler years: purse laden with diapers, pull-ups, wipes, extra clothes, a hairbrush, small containers of cheerios and apple juice boxes, a double-stroller in the back of the car, small boots and shoes cluttering the doorways, a yard that used to have a lovely garden which is now basically a weedy mess, but has grown a sandbox, a trampoline and a wading pool.
My life was heading to a time-share in Hawaii with a nice lap-top, a book to write, and a husband intent on improving his golf swing.
All that has changed now.
Their tiny pinky fingers have us well-entwined.
I believe the frustration and joy of these days cannot be for nought, that redemption can be found through confession, that our lives are not an island but a brotherhood.
I hope you find something useful here. I hope it can be a place to smile and rest and remember that Jesus does all things well.

Last day, last session!
A great conference, great contacts, new forever friends, but now I want to go home!