Every day I dream of the world as it was created to be:

bursting with green life from the sun,

a sea full of wishes and fishes,

people all colors of the rainbow at peace with each other,

children born in love,

my heart on fire with thanks,

with love to embrace the dream

and live it out.

~Anne Street

Here I am today, a person you may see and say, “She’s so slow, she doesn’t move fast enough.” Well, I’ll tell you, I am a miracle and the fact that I move slowly and don’t do things as quickly as I used to doesn’t mean a lot in the face of what I have been through.

On February 23, 2003, I was having an argument with my oldest son, Stephen, who was a sophomore in high school. He wanted me to take him somewhere or other. At the time, I was having a piercing, eye-splitting headache, one of many that I’d been having lately. All of a sudden, I had a seizure and threw up blood as I passed out. Stephen immediately phoned an RN we knew, who said there was nothing she could do and that my son should call an ambulance. The ambulance took me to Goodall Hospital and I was transferred to Maine Medical Center.

I don’t remember any of this. I was in a coma and remained in a coma for three months. I had a ruptured aneurysm on the left side of  my brain, one of the most serious my doctor, who was an expert in coiling aneurysms, had ever seen.

The doctor did a special coil he had only done on one other patient and, most wonderfully, it worked. However, that was just the beginning. Blood was still spilling into my brain. At this point, another doctor installed a shunt so that the blood would not permeate my brain. The operation worked, but I was still in a coma.

My parents and my husband, Ron were with me constantly. They would come in and rub my arms and legs and do other things to give me some exercise. The doctors, however, were pessimistic and told Ron and my parents that if I survived, they probably would wish that I hadn’t.

While in a coma, I suffered two strokes. I battled pneumonia, a urinary tract infection and super high blood pressure. Maine Medical Center called Ron three times, asking him if they could shut down the machines that were keeping me alive. Twice, he said no but the third time, he said yes. He called my parents and my brother and told them I was dead.

But in the morning, when the nurse walked into my intensive care room, I was breathing on my own and kicking my feet!

At this point, however, I couldn’t walk, let alone drive. I had taught myself to walk; I now have my driver’s license back and although I’m slower and very unsteady on my feet at times, I am alive.

You might think this story would be the end of my struggles, but it’s not. On January 4, 2009, my father Joseph died of a stroke. He was the Head Librarian at Bates College, where I went to school. I was extremely close to my dad. I play the violin because of my dad. And then, on December 17, 2010, my dear husband Ron, to whom I’d been married for twenty-six years, died of bladder cancer. This was earth–shattering. He was (I should say is) the love of my life, and I’m sure we would have celebrated another twenty-six years of marriage if he had lived.

At this point, all I can say to you is that life is precarious. Every day you are alive is a gift. Don’t take life for granted. Spend it doing something positive, something you love. Be grateful and thankful to the Lord above.

love to live, live to love.

~Cathy Lynch

I hate surprises. I like to know what is going on. I like to know what is going to happen from one thing to the next. Surprises are almost always not good. When I am surprised, I feel anxious.

My wife always loved surprises. All through the years I did my best to give her good exciting surprises. This was not easy because she is very intuitive. So when ever I try to surprise her, she always seemed to know what was up.

When the children were young we made it a point to surprise them. You know; birthdays, holidays and especially Christmas. But as they grew up this was more and more difficult. We would always hide their presents so that they wouldn’t know what they were getting. We would lock them up in a closet or some other storage place. But through the years they would become less and less surprised. Until by and by there were no surprises at all and they seemed to know what ever it was they were getting.

I guess there is a difference between pleasant surprises and not good surprises. I’m always hoping to be pleasantly surprised like landing a job or making new friends. But I don’t expect them. I expect the worst. I hope for the best. That way when something bad happens, I’m not surprised and when something good happens, well – surprise!

I have an idea of how to celebrate this year’s Holiday Season. Holidays are so hard and can be very difficult even when a family is just perfect; and when is that? But specifically for the homeless and downtrodden. The Gathering Place is more than a sanctuary. It is also a place without it some of us would be going back to the gas station bathroom. There are things that living on the edge are not experienced unless you have to. And unspoken. So here is what we should do. Have a marathon. Leave the lights on and the heat on all night. Invite LePage, King, Susan Collins, Olympia Snow to spend a night with the homeless. Ask for donations to be used to better help people. That is my idea. Maybe a seed.

As I was coming up in the world, I have often been told that I don’t know the meaning of the word, “no”. I suppose I have always been an optimist. My father always told me he doesn’t want me to ever say no. Meaning anything is possible. Everyone is always saying “no” to me. No, don’t do that. No, you can’t do it. No, No, No. I hate that word.

When I use that word I always seem to be the bad guy. Can I use your car? No! Can I borrow some money? No! Can you do this or that for me? No! Oh, I am such a bad guy if I use the work “no”.

My wife has told me “someday you’re going to have to learn the meaning of the word “no”. But she means when she uses it. Sometimes No means Yes. As in the case of young lovers on their first or second date. Now I really think I have a clear understanding of the word “no”. And I don’t like it. I much prefer the word “yes”. But that is at the risk of being called a yes man.

~ Mitch Kane