Just when you think things can't get any worse...

The last week in Brazil, I was attacked in the night by a stealth army of mosquitoes. They left evidence of their attack on the lower half of my back. I didn't even view the evidence for a couple days and when I saw it, I was disgusted. As was every other person who saw it, or even just saw a photograph of it. (A photograph I will not post here, since the image is just too graphic!) I looked diseased. Measles or chicken pox or something. And of course, there was the itch. It was hard for me to be sympathetic to any other person's bites at that point. I was feeling quite excited about getting back to Canada so my back could heal.

After reflecting and blogging last week, I was looking forward with some more peace and good expectation than I had had in awhile. I finally was getting back into the swing of life and one element of my life before I went away, was bicycling a lot. (I bought a new used bike this summer. It was a sweet deal. It's a kind of retro Miele. Here's a pic.) So finally on Wednesday, I got back on my bike, riding it to the office. I really only just got out of my driveway, when I found myself face-first on the road! I had a bag with my lunch in it that I had wrapped around the handlebars and it got stuck in the front wheel spokes! I saw it happening, but it was too late to do anything and I'm pretty sure I flew right over the handlebars. I recall that I adjusted my helmet, so it must have been hit. My teeth hurt and I touched under my nose when a lady in her car stopped and asked if I was ok. "I think I'm bleeding," I said. My house was right there, so I just picked up my bike and carried it and myself home. Yogurt was everywhere! And my peach and tomato where squashed. (I had to later cut the cloth bag out from the spokes, it was so wedged in.) When I saw myself in the mirror, I freaked out! It wasn't my nose that was bleeding as I had thought. My chin was all scraped away and my lip was puffy and split. Throughout the morning, I would continue to find scrapes here and there on my body. And yogurt randomly crusted on me too!

I was REALLY upset about this for the whole day. Even after I found out from the nurses at the doctor's office that I didn't need any stitches. It was so upsetting to me to have to have big pieces of gauze on my face and to be worried about forever carrying scars on my already acne-scarred face. And would my teeth ever stop hurting? "What if they're messed up and fall out later?"

Later that night, I called my dad to let him know that I would indeed be coming for the meeting with the nursing home the next day. Before I could pour out my sad details of my day, he had "bad news" for me. My mom's psychiatrist is starting to think that my mom is showing signs of dementia, which, unlike mental illness, is something that just happens with old age and is irreversible.

A few days later, I learned that my friend had a hellish weekend on top of an already difficult situation and I wonder at how she is even keeping herself above water.

Talking with another friend about all of our struggles and the struggles of those close to us, it really is too heavy. Is this what being an adult is?

On Sunday, a friend threw a big birthday party for her husband. It was his 44th birthday, so not particularly special. But emotion was in the room as she began the toasts by explaining that she wanted us to join in her celebration that he is still with us for this birthday! In February, our friend Fred was hit on the head by a tree when he was working to collect sap to make Maple Syrup. It was a scary and upsetting time as we waiting for the outcome of this horrible accident. And many people prayed.

On Sunday, this same group of friends were reflecting that another friend of theirs died ten years ago when he attempted to rescue some children from a river. So here we are, back at those questions. Why does it seem that prayer works sometimes and sometimes not? Or why do bad things happen to some people?

This week, I received an email from one of the Brazil team who had compiled a few stories of the children in the shelter we helped at. Stories of children being abandoned by their families; young girls being raped and baring the physical affects of this; and, boys being prostituted on the street and resorting to glue-sniffing and other drugs. I had heard some of these before, but reading them again seemed timely.

As I look at this last week, I have to admit that bad things happen to most people. When I was all upset about my messed-up face, my friend Sharon said to me, "Beth! Think of Fred!" (From his accident, Fred had to have his whole face basically rebuilt and for awhile, he looked quite different. Nowadays, he has a big scar on his forehead and difficulties with smell, taste, weather and temperatures.) I finally got to the place where I realized it REALLY could have been A LOT worse.

Fred's brother-in-law ended the toasts on Sunday with a prayer. He said that it wouldn't be long before we would feel pain again about something in our lives, but today would be our day to celebrate. We would celebrate for the miracle that we do have.

And I guess we just keep praying. And we give thanks that when we don't feel like we can pray, there are others out there praying for us.


By the way, I am completely in awe of the ability of our body to heal. There's the fading mosquito bites. My teeth don't hurt anymore. The inside of my mouth is nearly all healed and my lip is looking normal. You can barely notice anything on my face either! Even where it split!