About Me
At my local book launch
I was born on the Canadian prairies, number five of six children. My family was poor but we had many stores of wealth nonetheless: a love of music, examples of faithfulness, loyalty, humour and a perhaps unusual openness to new ideas.
I moved away from home at the age of 17 to study theatre, with an aim to direct plays for children and to teach developmental drama. As it happens, I never did either professionally but when my studies took me to seminary the first time, I did direct an amateur touring theatre troupe for three years. In those same years, I began to write plays, some of which were published with a religious press.
With a husband, two children, an oddly patterned employment record and yet another seminary degree, I entered the ordained ministry for eight years. Here my skills as a communicator and my knowledge of people and their needs developed further. It was in this context that I first discovered I had a capacity to help both people preparing for death and those who had been bereaved, a process I have frequently described as “learning to live with feeling inadequate”! In this context, too, I began a continuing process of journaling, often using poetic forms.
Immediately after leaving congregational ministry, I was diagnosed with breast cancer, an experience—through diagnosis, surgery, treatment and recovery—that taught me something of what it means to confront a life-threatening illness. After completing another Masters degree, I started a new life on my own working in a breast cancer resource centre. Once again, I was privileged to walk a road with people who had terminal illness. They taught me a great deal.
The publication of my book, Facing Death: A Companion in Words and Images, was the culmination of much life experience and reflection. It is yet to be seen what this book will accomplish in the world but I am excited at the possibilities it represents to contribute to the lives of others.
This blog is yet another way I hope to reach out to others, to encourage more openness about talking about death. I do not for a minute believe such conversation will remove death’s mystery or potency. I do believe, however, that talking about it may inform, reassure, inspire hope and enrich lives.
My wish for all those who are facing death—their own or that of someone they love—is this:
May you find comfort and inspiration;
may you find the support you need;
may you move towards acceptance;
and may you find the kind of peace that heals.