Alaska

My heat is on!

/ Sheila / 7 Comments

What is wrong with this picture?! It is July 1, and my heat is on! Oh, we’ve had some beautiful sunny warm days already. But they don’t last. You get a taste of summer, convince yourself tomorrow will be just as nice. And then, just like that, you go from July back to March or April. Just when I think I’m finally going to wear something “summery” more than one day at a time, the sun disappears and the jackets reappear.

And worst of all, the summer months that should give me a break from paying a fuel oil bill are likely to be little better than the rest of the year. And how do you know the fuel oil tanker has topped off your fuel oil? You come home to find a little love note on your door…a small ticket printed with the amount of fuel you got, and the total you owe. Let me tell you, I dread seeing those notes on my door. Every other month or so, I get a five or six hundred dollar happy when the fuel truck visits. Ouch!

Of course, part of the problem is that I’m in Southeast Alaska. I seem to fret about weather a lot. But you just can’t fathom how the weather impacts you, until the season you’re waiting for fails to appear. Or appears only in fits and starts…you can’t get a rhythm going, can’t forecast a cookout for the weekend, even if Tuesday is beautiful. Because by Saturday, you may want hot chocolate.

I’ve experienced the opposite problem…I know there are plenty of places where you run an air conditioner eight or nine months of the year. I’ve been in Palm Springs in July when even I (a lizard at heart who would like to spend significant time sunning on a rock) could barely walk from mister to mister in the shopping district without collapsing. Now that’s hot!  But at least you know what you’re getting. Those climates are much more consistent. I’ve had a painter lined up to do some work on the exterior of my house for six weeks, and he can’t get three days in a row that are dry enough to work!

I don’t like air conditioning…but living with temps in the 50s is not much fun either.

Well…I’m trying to re-direct myself….let’s see…

Ok, the humidity is good for my skin. And this is magical humidity that doesn’t feel humid, so that’s a big plus.

The rain and cool temps are great for many growing things…this island is as green as Ireland…indeed, we are an emerald isle, though I’ve never heard that term applied. But green is everywhere, and the foliage is lush.

I think this must be a good climate for fish. Fish are everywhere. These waters are teeming with salmon and halibut, among many other species.

I don’t have to pay for air conditioning. Don’t even have an air conditioner. The air conditioner in my car has been on half a dozen times in three and a half years of living here.

That’s it…I can’t think of anything else positive about the climate here. Did my best. Right now I just want warm, dry, and sunny! Wish I could send all this rain and cool temps to Colorado and the other states that are on fire. Feast or famine, that’s life!

I’m home!

/ Sheila / 4 Comments

Ah, the pleasures of coming home! After a week away, working, it is good to be in my kitchen again. Rob says I’m a nester…he says even when we were doing an extensive RV road trip a few years ago, I was gathering twigs for my nest at every stop. Well, not exactly true! But there’s probably some reality there.

The only negative thing about coming home today is that I came home by myself. Rob is working an extra day, so he’ll be here tomorrow afternoon. That’s nothing, really. We’ve spent lots of time apart at various stages of our lives. But we’ve been mostly joined at the hip for a while now, so a night alone seems a little quiet.

Still, it gives me a chance to catch up. Catch up on some reading, catch up on my blog, catch up with blogging friends whose posts this past week I’ve mostly saved to read later. It’s become a regular pattern for me. In my “normal” routine, I read a bit every day, and can even find time to write a bit most weeks. But when I’m out and about, traveling and working, I fall out of my rhythm. But I’m coming to terms with this. It’s the best I can do.

This past week I was working in Metlakatla, Alaska. There’s a beautiful health clinic there that is operated with funding from IHS (Indian Health Service). Rob worked there for a time when we first lived in Ketchikan, but now he just does an occasional week or so. I’ve picked up some projects that I’m assisting with (always in a non-clinical role, thank you very much!), so we spent the week together at a little apartment that the organization keeps for visiting providers. The small community is on an island about 15 miles from Ketchikan, but there is no road, no bridge, so you have to ferry over, or fly over. I took the car and ferried since I was spending the week.

The island is very small. Less than 2,000 people…I think it’s more in the range of 1400…live there. There are a couple of very small mom and pop restaurants, a convenience store that sells burgers and chicken strips…that kind of thing. There is a basic grocery store. That’s pretty much it. Locals come over to Ketchikan to go to Wal-Mart or some of the other retailers here. To people who live on other small islands in this area, Ketchikan is “town.” This is where you come for any kind of health care that requires more than a clinic or urgent care visit. This is where you come to give birth. This is where you come to connect to Alaska Airlines, to see a movie, to go to McDonald’s. And yet, in so many ways, Ketchikan itself is just a small outpost. Well, it’s all a matter of perspective, I guess. After being on a really small island for a week, Ketchikan looked pretty big and busy this afternoon.

Well, I did bring something else home with me. Guess what’s for dinner this weekend?

Alaskan King salmon, caught this morning, in my fridge tonight!

I mentioned to the Director of Nurses at the clinic that I was hoping to get some fish while I was on the island. Just before I left this afternoon, I got these beautiful steaks. And about 15 more to go with them. I love shopping on the docks! Well, actually, these came to me in a cooler, I just paid for them at the front door of the clinic and did a quick transfer to my car. Most of this bounty is going into the freezer. But I’ve picked a couple of these to eat this weekend. You can’t freeze it all…you have to enjoy it when it is fresh!

So, home again, routine again, and fresh fish. Nice nesting!

Walkabout in my mind

/ Sheila / 14 Comments

So I was laying in bed last night, trying not to drown…I’ll spare the details, but let’s just say my wad of tissues never left my hand for the six hours I lay there. I began to think, God bless the person who invented Kleenex. Because the worst thing to use to blow your nose is toilet paper. You know, you just can’t make it work. It’s too flimsy, even the good brands. It disintegrates too easily. And you can’t carry it around with you…no neat little packs of toilet tissue to slip into your purse or pocket.

Then my mind wandered to all the things on my list today. Meetings, scheduling, call calendars to populate, emails to return, an evening open house to learn about the road construction heading my neighborhood’s way…my blog that has been dormant for a couple of weeks now…the trip planning we have to complete…on and on and on. When this happens in conversation, it’s called “hot-wiring.” You know, the not uncommon habit of leaping from one subject to another…seemingly random, but really with connectedness that makes sense from inside my head.

I lay in bed, rehearsing all my to-dos, registering a hundred details flying through my brain. I used to write letters in my head at night, or talk out arguments. So many times I’ve thought everything out, gotten just the right wording. And then I fall asleep. By morning I can barely remember any of it…the careful wording, the perfect answer that I crafted at 3:30.

This morning, I was flying. Made muffins to deliver to friends, made breakfast, made lunch to take to work, put dinner in the slow cooker, ironed, showered, collected myself and got out the door. I dropped Rob off at the clinic (we only have one vehicle here in Ketchikan) and got to the office for a day of busyness and mild chaos.

This evening, we went to a meeting hosted by the city engineering department. We went to learn how the bridge we live on will be replaced, a section at a time, and how this will impact us for months. The project is scheduled to begin in a year or two. They’re in the very early design phase, the time when they invite the homeowners to view the plans, ask questions, and be alarmed or reassured, depending on your point of view.

I’m reassured. The bridge has homes constructed on both sides of the street, and it only has a few more years…maybe a decade…of usable life. So replacing it is not an option, it is a necessity. It will be a good thing in the end. The utility poles and wiring will disappear below the surface of the new bridge (we were assured), dramatically improving our view.

I’m alarmed. Rob thinks we won’t be able to sell the house until after this process is completed…he thinks no one would want to buy it now with a lengthy and inconvenient construction project looming. (Did I mention there will be a stretch of a “few” months that we will not be able to park at the house? We’ll have to park somewhere waaay down the street, beyond the construction zone, and walk, in the rain, (13 feet of rain a year here) with groceries or whatever we’re wagging.)

I’m pooped. We listed this house last year, without one offer materializing. My husband says we’re at a point in life when we can’t afford to take a big loss. It’s a great house, but a lousy market. He says I’ll have this house till I die. I tell him that’s not true, unless I’m hit by a bus. But it’s hard to transition when the biggest thing in the way is not moving. Literally, we are not moving. We are thinking about moving, but we’re not doing it. At least not now. Maybe not for the foreseeable future. I have to think about this for a while. And I’m tired of thinking about it.

Going to be a long night. Well, the sun rises about 3:30 anyway.

Summer day, summer planning

/ Sheila / 9 Comments

It’s almost 8:00 pm, but the sun is still bright. Here in Alaska, the summer sky stays light later and later, until you only have a brief time of true darkness. The summer evenings are long…really the afternoon is just elongated until 9:00, 10:00 at night, when twilight falls. Mornings begin about 4:00, with the light peaking in the bedroom windows, waking us up, causing us to turn into the pillows, burrow under the cover, block out the too-early dawn.

This is the season of activity, or increased activity, here in Ketchikan. The big cruise ships are once again in town on a daily basis, the seasonal businesses are open, and the fishing tourists are here in force. Not for nothing is Ketchikan the salmon capital of the world. And the fish know it. Soon I’ll be freezing salmon and halibut, vacuum sealing the fish I buy from local vendors, putting a little of this Alaska treasure away for coming months.

I look out and see the rain falling through the sun, a rainbow is on the distant horizon, and the sun and shadows fall mixed across my living room floor, even as I listen to the sound of the rain pouring out of the gutters. This is the season when the rain doesn’t feel too cold, and the showers are more gentle than the downpours we get in the fall.

My little front garden…my secret garden, I call it, because the small space in front of the house is enclosed with a shaped hedge…has blossomed with the warmer weather, and now looks a little overgrown and in need of a trimming. My rhubarb, tucked away in a corner of the little square, has flourished, and I’ve already cut it twice. There are small blue flowers growing, and the lilac has leafed out, getting so bushy it has hidden the street number mounted on the house. I’ll have to cut the lilac back if I want FedEx to find me with future deliveries. The clematis vines I planted (to replace the one that died from January’s week of single digit temperatures) are growing and already climbing the trellis.

I have painters coming this month to repaint the garage door, sand and paint the front step bannister, and touch up any exterior walls that are showing signs of wear. This is an old home, “historic,” built in 1920, and although it has been remodeled periodically, the exterior is still a wood siding. That translates to a lot of painting, over the years, and though we can get by this summer, maybe even another year, with touch ups, our turn is coming. Yes, we’ll get to paint, or pay to have someone paint, all three stories of this fine old place. Can’t wait for that one!

We now have two sump pumps and a dam in the back corner of the basement. I cautiously believe the episodic appearance of a lake down there has ended. We won’t know for sure until the fall rains, but we sustained some pretty wet weather this spring. The concrete dam joins the other great oddity of the basement, the huge granite boulder that the house sits on, jutting out into the unfinished portion of the bottom floor, reminding me that this island is indeed a rocky place, and some of the rock was too large for early builders to remove. So they built around it, and over it.

I make my list of chores to complete in the next few weeks. It’s June already, and summer is here. We leave to go “down” for a summer ramble (read rv road trip) July 14. We’ll be back mid-September. We’re hunting for “next,” doing some casual but focused exploring during the time we’re away. But first, my lists have to be made, checked off as I work through them. I’m working for income the next several weeks, storing up like a squirrel saving nuts for winter. But there’s more too. I have indoor and outdoor to-dos; weeding and writing; sorting, cleaning, thinning, organizing. I love this time of renewal, preparation, expectation. I’m not just cleaning out my fridge or trimming my hedge, or writing a blog post: I’m ordering myself, preparing for “next.” When I do the physical chores, or have a burst of creativity that allows me to write, I’m clearing my thoughts, centering myself. I’m rising, like the Alaska sun in the early morning, eager to begin my parade of adventures, wherever they take me.

Full time, temporary

/ Sheila / 3 Comments

There are many different work styles. I only knew of a handful until the last few years. I knew people worked regular 5 day work weeks, traditional schedules that you could count on. People worked in rotating shifts, or worked out of town, doing things like flying planes or driving trucks. I knew of part time work. But living in Alaska has been an education in work style creativity.

The energy industry in Alaska seems to run in two week shifts…two on, two off, and people commute from other states, or great distances within Alaska, to accommodate this schedule. There are people who live here during the school year, then live in “America” (aka the lower 48) for summers. Some, like Rob and me, work in varying blocks of time. Full time when working, but working as temporary staff. I didn’t know, until Alaska, that many, maybe all, healthcare professionals can work this way. Physicians, nurses, lab, x-ray, allied health professionals…all can work from a few weeks to a few months, then move on to the next place. In a hospital setting, they’re called “travelers.” Travelers often rotate with a particular health care institution, cycling in and out. Even temporary faces become familiar after a while. Many other professions have a seasonal cycle here. Tourism, construction, even forest service jobs are full time and temporary, typically excluding winter months.

So what’s the benefit to working this way? The two week on, two week off workers and teachers are in their own category. These folks really are employees. They have employment with benefits and diversity of location. Those working in block time are typically contractors, and may or may not have some benefit structure in place. Rob and I do not have benefits. We pay our own health insurance, to the tune of about $1000 a month for the two of us. We make a better rate for unit of time, but there is no paid leave, no access to other employer benefits for us.

What we do get is freedom, and change of pace, scenery, and people. We are free to commit when and where we want. That doesn’t mean we don’t work, but it does mean we can decline to work if we want to be “off,” or we can choose which organization we will work for. Currently we have multiple options for work, so we have choice. Commitments are typically a week at a time, minimum, and we are able to plan weeks, even months, in advance.

What does all this mean? It means we are sometimes in Ketchikan, working in the clinic there, and at home. The rest of the time we’re working, we’re in small bush communities in SE Alaska, living in furnished apartments, not quite living out of a suitcase, but definitely not at home either.

If your family structure is flexible, if you can weather weeks when you are not working, and are thus without income; if you are not climbing a corporate ladder, or running your own business empire, you too could work like this. Maybe the question is: why would you want to?

This is our transition plan to our next stage. Not sure yet what that will look like, but in the interim, we need time to explore other geography, other ways of earning an income, and our own interests and desires. We also still need income. I describe it as being at that awkward age…too young to retire, but ready for change. Working in block time gives us ability to structure travel and time to think, which is essential when you’re planning a reconstruction of your life.

To live this way, and assuming you’re not just working for the fun of it, you’ll probably have to cut some expenses. And you have to have financial cushions. You have to think outside the box. And you have to plan. This takes a lot of planning.

At this point in my life, I’m relaxed enough to enjoy living this way. I have to be honest to say that Rob invented this lifestyle for us. I wouldn’t have done this on my own. I’m not inventive. I only go outside the box when I’m dragged out. But once I get out, I usually like it.

So, on with our year of transition. That’s what we’re calling it. It may or may not be a year by the calendar. But I can already tell: we’re definitely in transition. See you on the merry-go-round!

My father’s 80th birthday

/ Sheila / 23 Comments

Today my dad would have turned 80. He died four years ago on February 1, just a few days shy of his birthday.

It is hard to believe it has been four years since that day. My mom has adjusted, as much as possible. She is busy, active, energetic, continuing to pursue their life dream of mission efforts. But she doesn’t forget, of course.

How does it work that life goes on, the current carries us on? There is no choice, that’s how it works.

I think of him often, at odd moments here and there. Little things bring him to mind, and four years down the road, the sadness is mostly gone, and sweetness is in its place. The memories are good, and I smile when I’m reminded of some funny thing he said or did. Sometimes the tears still come, often when I least expect it, surprising me that emotion can bubble up, nearer the surface than I knew.

I’ve been thinking a lot about creating passion in my life. I should say, expanding passion. There are some things I am passionate about, primarily my family. I think about my dad, and how he displayed that quality in his life.

He wasn’t a flashy person, not the cool one in the crowd. But he was a man of faith, an old fashioned faith that wasn’t about fame or fortune. He was a minister, a preacher, a missionary. He had goals for sharing his faith, and he pursued them. He spent most of his life focused on sharing his faith with others, and lived many years in foreign countries to accomplish that goal. He and my mom were partners in life and in faith, and their mission was their passion.

The last couple of years of his life he was not able to travel, except to doctors’ appointments and to hospitals. His world grew smaller, at a time when mine was expanding. It was about that time that Rob and I moved to Alaska, and we traveled a lot. I always called when we traveled, checking in. I would hear his voice, “Where are you now?” A little wistful, it seemed to me. I’m sure he was thinking of past years when he was well and able to be about his life’s work. It pricked my heart to know that he would likely not make those journeys again.

This week I’m traveling again, in Anchorage for a training, and I heard a little voice in my head as I was packing. “Where are you now?” I’m right here, Daddy, thinking of you, and wishing I could sing happy birthday to you in person. But you’re where you belong, too. I know that because I also have a faith. It is a bit different from my dad’s. My faith has not prompted me to live abroad, or to choose a missionary life. But it is there, nonetheless.

Milestone birthdays are always special, celebrated with a little extra excitement. If my dad was here, we would do a big family gathering, make a special event of the day. But without him, of course that isn’t happening. Still, I like to think that he’s having his party. I like to think that he’s off on a journey, traveling like he loved to do. And because I haven’t been on that journey myself, I ask him, “Where are you now?”

Happy Birthday to my dad. Happy birthday, Daddy.

Winter calling

/ Sheila / 3 Comments

Monday, January 23, and we’re back in Craig. Rob is doing a last round of work at the clinic here before the new “permanent” provider arrives in mid-February. “Permanent” (in the Alaska healthcare world) is the hopeful term for individuals who accept a position without a defined end date. Of course “permanent” with this usage really means that most likely, the position will be filled for a year or two. Sometimes people stay longer, but you never know. So providers who travel fill the gaps. I’m working in the front office. I don’t do clinical; I don’t do blood!

We came over from Ketchikan last night, arriving in a soft snowfall. Prince of Wales looks to have about the same levels of snow that Ketchikan has. What a week it has been for SE Alaska! This is the rain forest, we are not accustomed to bitter cold here. Often in the winter months, the average temperatures are in the 30s and even 40s. Last week, Ketchikan was in single digits, with winter storm warnings and heavy snow accumulation for the end of the week.

We live in a house built in 1920. It has been remodeled and updated over the years, but still…can you guess where this is going? I felt quite smug all week, hearing about frozen pipes and weather related issues, relieved that I wasn’t dealing with any of that. Until Friday morning, when I realized the water source for the washing machine was frozen. I put a small space heater in the laundry room to try to warm things up a bit, went off to my relief job in the Primary Care clinic, hoping to have things restored when I got home. It was a minor inconvenience. But the best was yet to come. Friday afternoon, when we pulled into our parking space at the house, I got out of the car and saw water gushing out from an exterior basement wall. I rushed in to see where the water was coming from and found the floor partially covered. I could hear the sound of running water and see the water level rising. A pipe in an exterior wall had frozen, and we were developing a small lake.

A few hours later, we had a claim in with Allstate, a plumber (thank you, Cory, for coming out so quickly!) had capped the pipe and restored water to the rest of the house, and the process of drying out had begun. There wasn’t any visible damage. Of course we haven’t been through the final repair process yet. The plumber said his company had so many calls last week, they were only doing emergency fixes. Cap the pipes, come back and do the full repair later. So I don’t know if there is damage within the wall, or how involved the repair will be. But our initial cleanup consisted of drying out a rug and mopping up. Oh, and paying the bill, which I expect to be just under our deductible, so likely we’ll get to pay the full amount. But I’m not complaining. If we hadn’t gotten home when we did, it could be much worse. Or more frightening to contemplate, what if it had happened this week?! I don’t like to think about pipes when we’re out of town. But that’s what insurance is for, right?

So, the washing machine thawed out in time to do laundry to travel, we are mostly dried out in the basement, and we’re back in the mid-30s now. Hopefully no more single digit temps, particularly while we’re out of town.

All of this just helps me appreciate the routine, the normal, the every day. It is very unsettling to realize you have a potentially major problem on Friday afternoon when you are planning to be out of town and can’t be home to address the issue. This was one of those times when I just wanted to turn the clock back a few minutes and have my to-do list from an hour ago.

Well, tis the season. Winter storms, delayed or canceled flights, pipes and snowy roads…all part of the joy. Funny, snow is so perfect around Christmas when it adds to the ambience and puts the finishing touch to the holiday atmosphere. But in January? Not so fun. After spending most of my adult life in winter climates…Colorado and Michigan and Alaska…I’m beginning to understand why people eventually want to live in year round warmth. I’m not there yet. I still like four seasons. But frozen pipes and washing machines definitely color my thinking! Or maybe I’m just ready for a week on a beach.

Well, off to work. And oh, the temperature is 35 degrees. It’s going to be a great day!

December Saturday

/ Sheila / 14 Comments

Saturday afternoon in Craig is a bit quiet. In a small apartment that is not my own, there isn’t much inspiration or much of a to-do list. I’ve got some writing projects I’m working on, but I can only focus for so long at one stretch.

One of my favorite things to do when I’m ready for a break is to catch up on reading. I read blogs, read email, pull up a book in progress on my Kindle. I sometimes look for new quotes and inspiration for blog posts. Inspiration comes from everywhere…and inspiration is whatever catches my interest, makes me smile, the thing that touches my heart or rouses my curiosity.

This week I saw this (thanks to my friend Doug):

Religion is a guy at church thinking about fishing. Worship is a guy out fishing thinking about God. ~ John Fischer

And I found this:

20111210-164202.jpg

I always wonder if the quotes I post resonate with others or if they seem trite or simplistic. But whatever…they speak to me, and if these words don’t speak to you…well, that’s just the difference in people. Not right, not wrong, just different.

Words are powerful; they have the ability to heal and encourage. Words can also be negative. I’m careful about what I allow to lodge in my thoughts. I would rather have a store of sayings and quotes in my head that can add to my support when I need it, whether they sound corny or not. The truth is that just as we are what we eat, we also are (or become) what we think.

I don’t always feel positive. Who does? No one I know. But I’m learning, I’m growing, one phrase at a time, one encouraging story at a time.

Quiet Saturdays…well, with a good book in hand, or with an Internet connection…you can find inspiration. It isn’t geographic, you know. Inspiration is everywhere. Hope you find some in your world, wherever you are.

Community in action

/ Sheila / 17 Comments

In the last week I saw a community in action…well, it was a small group within the little town of Craig, AK. But these people accomplished a feat. They were able to get a man, virtually homeless and penniless, to the care of physicians at Duke University Medical Center in Durham, North Carolina.

This is the story.

Rob and I came to this clinic to work for three weeks on November 28. During our first few days, there were several conversations among clinic staff about a man who was in dire need of medical attention. He has no insurance, no money, and almost no support structure in Craig. I learned he had come here some time ago to take care of his mother, who died last year. He has some social issues, to put it politely. To put it bluntly, he is dirty, agoraphobic, and has a noticeable odor.

This man became a patient when he’d recently experienced a change in his voice. 50-ish, he has been a long-term smoker. A man in town who befriended him persuaded him to come to the clinic a few weeks ago to get checked out. A large tumor was found to be pressing on his vocal chords and impacting his airway.

The front office staff began to work on getting care lined up. You do not treat cancer in Craig. You leave and travel to a large medical center to get access to the various specialists your condition requires. From this region of Alaska, that resource is most often found in Seattle, WA. But in this situation, sending this man away with no funds and no support wasn’t an option.

It was discovered that there is a brother in North Carolina, living near Duke, one of the largest medical research facilities in the country. A medical referral was made; social workers contacted. The brother there agreed to receive the brother here. Medical costs will be underwritten by Medicaid.

But…Alaska is a looong way from North Carolina. It is expensive to make a trip like that. And this man couldn’t get there on his own. Turns out the brother is in financial difficulties too, so also unable to finance such a trip. Typically Medicaid will cover travel costs, but for some reason, not in this case.

So an application was made to a national organization that provides free air travel for medical emergencies…just like this situation. For a few days there was faxing and phoning back and forth. The office coordinator spent hours of her time working out details, making calls to solidify plans, meeting with the patient to reassure him of progress.

Then three days before the patient had to travel, the flight plans fell through. The organization was willing to cover travel to Seattle or Anchorage, but not to a location so far away, and outside the standard medical destinations for needy Alaskans. The manager was very polite…he wished they could help everyone, but this was clearly outside their policy parameters.

So, back to square one, with the clock ticking.

Someone suggested the local community cancer coalition might help. The office coordinator called, and within half an hour, two ladies representing the coalition were sitting in the clinic, listening to the story. Turns out they provide up to $1500 to cover travel expenses for medical care. You make an application, make the travel arrangements, and apply for reimbursement.

Someone produced a credit card. Airline ticket, ferry ticket to Ketchikan, airport ferry ticket were all purchased. The coalition would reimburse with a check.

The ferry travel to Ketchikan was full price, but when the accountant for the ferry company came in to the clinic for an appointment, the office coordinator mentioned to her that the staff was trying to assist this patient. The ferry accountant immediately offered to get the fare discounted, which she promptly did.

A nurse from Ketchikan with family in North Carolina was already scheduled to fly back and offered to escort the patient through the travel stages. The friend who brought the patient in escorted him to Ketchikan so he had no time on the journey that he was alone or without support.

So, a small town that supports a local cancer coalition, clinic employees, a caring friend, a nurse traveling home, a brother a long way off, social workers and medical providers on the other side of the country all worked together. And they pulled it off.

I don’t know how this story will end. I don’t know if this patient has a chance of surviving. I do he would have had no chance if he had stayed in Craig. Whatever happens, he has the gift of possibility this season. And the gift came from the community, given freely, knowing there would be no payback for the time, money or energy that it took to be successful.

Even more poignant, this man is not from Craig; he is not a pillar of the community; he is barely known here. But they helped anyway. No one will get credit, or special notice, for this effort. But this man will get a chance.

This isn’t a Christmas story of a gift given because of the time of year. Timing had nothing to do with it, except that the need was urgent. But it shows me the best of small town life. Small communities don’t have large medical centers. They don’t have unlimited resources. But when you need to get something done in a hurry, you know who to call. You’re not a faceless application form in someone’s email. And that’s the second part of this story.

Small towns can show off the best of community. And I just had a front row seat.

And the award goes to…

/ Sheila / 8 Comments

20111002-183918.jpg I recently received a “Versatile Blogger Award,” (well, if you count September 20 as recent) and though I thanked my fellow blogger, Jeff, for this honor at that time, I’m only just now getting around to fulfilling the requirements that come with the award. I know, bad form on my part! But I tend to agonize a bit over this type of thing, and I put this off feeling that I haven’t had time to do this post justice. But enough delay, and on with the passing of the award!

First, thank you to Jeff who writes about his faith and posts a daily Bible study. I’m awed that he is able to be so consistent with his posts. And these are not short and sweet, but well thought out, well developed commentaries on the Bible passage of the day. He obviously makes this a priority in his life. This reminds me that I need to be vigilant about my own daily walk. Jeff nominated me for this award and I am happy to finally pass this award on to some great bloggers, listed here in no particular order. By award rules, I am supposed to choose 15 blogs to highlight.

So, here goes.

~ If you’re looking for creative, you’ll find this fun:
Marilyn Griffin posts at My First Blog of 2011 and I love the way she writes about her personal life and family and often includes a section about the special needs kids she works with, sprinkling images throughout.

~ Mandi is a crafter and teacher of English as a Second Language (ESI). She currently lives in Korea with her husband, but sounds like they will be in the US soon. She is funny and knows how to crochet. Check out Mandi’s posts at Whimsical Witch.

~ For a great photo blog…well, there are words too, but the photos are amazing…visit Meanwhile, back at the ranch. Jessie writes about returning home to a ranch in western North Dakota and the plans she and her husband have for making a home there. She is a modern day pioneer. You’ll be mesmerized by the scenery.

~ My husband actually found this blog and I always enjoy the read. Jenny is an attorney and writes from Atlanta. She is witty, sharp, a devoted wife and mom…well, I’m sure she’s many things, not least of which is a great blogger. Check out Jenny Mac at Let’s have a cocktail.

~ Kate blogs at Joyous Joys. She is an optimist and a bright spark of encouragement, celebrating joy where she finds it as she experiences life in New York.

~ For a fun pet blog, written from pet perspective, visit Rumpydog. You’ll gain some new insight to human life, and see some cute photos too.

~ I link to this site on my page. If you haven’t stopped by The Burning House you should see what people are posting as the items they would save if their house was on fire. Some choices are puzzling and some are inspiring. I don’t know exactly what I would attempt to save from fire, but I’m sure I would be challenged to fit it into one photo.

~ Amy Lee Bell blogs about homeschooling, relationships, faith, and writing at Full Circle Homeschooling. She writes from the heart. Look her up!

~ Tinkerbelle (no relation to Amy Bell, above, I’m quite sure) is a young writer from the UK who seems to pour humor from her keyboard. She’s only 25, so not sure what drew her to my blog. I found her site because she came across mine. I like her self-deprecating style and the window into a completely.different.life.

~ Stop by An attempt at humor for some laugh out loud reading. Some people got an extra funny bone or three in their makeup, and this blogger is one of those lucky writers. She was Freshly Pressed a few months ago, see this for a little relief when it comes to stepping on the scales.

~ Melody Godfred is an attorney and professional writer using her blog to generate work and to post about great writing everywhere. You might find a use for her services, here.

~ I found this site through Freshly Pressed, and have gone to it for writing ideas and guidance. This blog is maintained by a group of writers, so you get a different flavor/voice depending on who is writing on a given day. I think it’s a great resource, and of course, free!

~ Ok, you know I can’t pass up the opportunity to include a recipe blog! Tina Butler shares down home Southern goodness at Mommy’s Kitchen. A mom of three, she posts family and budget friendly recipes with an eye to tradition and comfort. Yum, yum!

~ For adventure, look no further than Lesley Carter. This amazing woman has traveled and experienced all sorts of adventures of a lifetime. You can find inspiration for a fantasy trip and check out her bucket list (I call this a life list!)

~ For a really different reading experience, visit Cider Press. There are some interesting images on this site. I have to admit, some of the writing goes right over my head. Maybe that’s a function of the fact that a lot of my time to read blogs comes at the end of my work day. But you’ll find some thought-provoking entries for sure.

Third in my list of duties for receiving this award is to share seven things about myself…I can’t recall on the spot what I may have revealed along the way as I’ve blogged the past year…so of any of this is a repeat…well, I’ve been known to repeat myself on occasion!

~ In random order…

1. I’m hopelessly sentimental about children, holidays, pets and memories.

2. I’m learning to be unsentimental about stuff.

3. I spent part of my childhood in India, Sri Lanka, and Pakistan, where my parents were engaged in mission work.

4. I spent two years living in the Arctic of Alaska. Great people, very harsh climate!

5. I used to hand smock for my children, probably the most creative thing I’ve ever done. I am not really artistic by nature…my brother got those genes.

6. I love to cook but don’t really follow recipes except when I bake. Baking requires measuring, in my experience!

7. I’m an accidental adventurer, living in Alaska because I was in quest of an empty nest adventure. But I’m finding ways to make it work for me!

So there you go! Happy reading and exploring, and I’ll be back soon with more great blog picks. I have two more award posts I’m due to write!