“For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms.”

Inspiring people to change and adopt healthier lifestyles has been my lifelong passion, both as a nutritionist and as a public school educator. As a newcomer to the Northwest, I was blessed immediately with a job as a health educator for a local community health center. Each day brought new experiences and responsibilities way beyond what was in my job description, but I embraced each new challenge the best I could with enthusiasm and focused attention.

As I learned all the ins and outs of my new job, I sensed that many of the patients and employees seemed sad or frustrated with their lives and work environments. Confidentially, many shared that they were not being treated with respect or in a caring manner. I felt the presence of Satan lurking in every corner and a deep sadness filled my heart.

What could I do to chase away Satan and bring God’s loving presence to all these people?  I did not see many smiling faces as I walked around the clinic filling up wall holders with patient education leaflets. As I interacted daily with the doctors, nurses, front desk people, lab personnel and the dental clinic, I made the decision to smile wherever I went and to offer a personalized greeting such as,  “ How are you today?” and” How may I help you?” I asked the Holy Spirit to guide me in what to say to each person so that I might celebrate him or her while they were in my presence.

Every day ended with less stress and more positive interactions. It was very gratifying to know that I was making a difference daily with my friendly attitude. I did not realize how much light I had brought to the clinic until one day, about a month after my resignation; I received a voicemail on my cell phone from one of the clinic’s dental hygienists. She said, “Priscilla, this is Teresa from The Clinic. I just wanted to let you know how much we all miss you. Today when I went upstairs to the employee’s break room for lunch, I passed by your old office and realized you were no longer there. The light was gone without your presence. Thank you for what you brought to our clinic on a daily basis.”

Tears overflowed on my cheeks as I listened to that message over and over again. God had reminded me that every smile, or act of kindness, that we extend to each other is so appreciated. It does make a difference in the small world of our daily lives. We don’t need to travel very far to make a difference in someone’s life. Let your light shine out to everyone around you.

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“He gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak. Even youths grow tired and weary, and young men stumble and fall, but those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; and will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.”

— Isaiah 40: 29-31

Pulling out a rickety, wooden chair next to my tiny, round kitchen table, I sat down to sip my steaming cup of Constant Comment. Inhaling the spicy cinnamon aroma, I let it soothe my throat as well as my hurting heart. A comforting drink, warming my hands while I hoped it would also magically “make it all better” in my life. Where is my magic dust when I need it?

Countless changes, disappointments, and losses had led me here to this upstairs studio apartment over a garage. I had a breathtaking wintery view of endless evergreens and rustic homes, about fifteen miles north of downtown Juneau, Alaska. Arriving in The Last Frontier, I had fulfilled a bucket list item, while living with a heart overflowing with sadness. I think I had a case of situational depression.

I was grieving and alone. I needed to find my way again. I was lost on the journey of life, and not sure which path to take next. It was late December, and a chill seeped deep into my bones, as well as throughout my heart.  I did not know where to turn next, but just decided to head straight ahead –North to Alaska.

I did not pray to our Lord for several weeks as I searched for a new church family, set up a P.O. Box, found a grocery store for food and supplies, and bought studded snow tires. Satisfied I had sheltered and protected myself to the best of my ability and life experiences, I began to reflect on my new situation living here in Alaska. I doubted God was really listening to my prayers, all the prayers from my faith family in Bellingham or close friends. Wasn’t he aware of all my challenges, losses, and disappointments? Why didn’t he answer my prayers? Maybe I was not worthy. Had I failed him?

During the previous three years in Bellingham, I had worked full-time as a community health educator earning $15 per hour in order to pay my mortgage as a single woman. I had completed all the requirements for a Washington Teaching Certificate, had applied for sixty teaching positions in a fifty-mile radius from my home, and completed ten interviews. Every time the principal would call to let me know I had been their second choice, so they had offered the position to someone more qualified. They were not more qualified; they just were cheaper as brand-new teachers.

I had resigned my health educator position so I could be available for the daily substitute pool in two school districts. I was told they usually hired full-time teachers from the sub pool. I subbed continuously in K-12 classrooms for the next school year, receiving positive and encouraging comments from teachers and principals. My hard work, optimism, and perseverance let me down. This had never happened to me before in my life. I had always reached my goal.

I finally realized I was too qualified and too expensive because of my education and sixteen years of teaching experience. Through grave disappointment and buckets of tears, eventually, I was forced to sell my home during the beginning of the 2008 Recession. Before moving to Washington, I had survived a divorce after a thirty-year marriage and bankruptcy, so I had developed a steel core of inner strength and resilience. But to no avail, I could not “move the mountain, nor go around it.”

Where was God?  I cried out, “Please, God, help me. What is your will for the rest of my life?” Why wasn’t he listening to all those prayers? Sitting in my tiny studio, I decided to pray aloud for God’s mercy to heal my heart, and to give me a sign he had not left me alone. “Are you there, Lord? Are you going to help me rebuild my life now? What are your plans for me?  I am listening right now.”

Suddenly, as I drained the last drop of tea, I heard the whoosh of flapping wings right before me outside the window. A huge bald eagle spread his enormous wings as he flew slowly past, almost touching the windowpane.

At that moment I realized God was reminding me of his greatness and power. He is omnipresent-in all places and all times. He covered me with the shadow of those wings in one instant to remind me to trust, obey, and to rest in His arms of refuge. I just needed to pray, listen, and follow the urgings of the Holy Spirit. And I did.

The post Lord, I Seek You. Are You There? appeared first on Priscilla Sharrow.

“Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows. He chose to give us birth through the word of truth, that we might be a kind of firstfruits of all he created.”

—James 1:17-18

He scurries quickly around the damp grass, gathering seeds and rotting plums stuffing quickly each morsel in his bulging mouth. Papa Squirrel is getting ready for the coming winter. Instinctively, he knows his responsibilities for survival today–food, water, shelter, and evade predators. Preparing for cold weather, and the scarcity of food drive his “disaster preparation” biological time clock. As I watch from the breakfast nook window, Jacques, in one powerful bang, forces the screen door open, charging into action. Papa Squirrel scampers to the safety of the backyard fence. Life can be so scary and challenging at times!

I wonder if we pause often enough to assess our own life situation, determining our preparedness if we were to lose our job, home, spouse, a child, or good health. Unexpected circumstances can pop up at any time and anywhere. Are you ready?

In the past few months, all the horrible shootings, horrendous weather disasters, and wildfires have so overwhelmed my mind and heart. Attempting to be an informed citizen, I watch the evening local and world news. In the past, horrific wildfires in Eastern Washington have caused ruin, destruction, and homelessness in the Methow Valley and the Lake Chelan area. Seeing the TV images, flashing in my living room, of burned-out neighborhoods in Santa Rosa and Paradise, due to California wildfires, left me with painful flashbacks.

There I am. A fourteen-year-old freshman watching our two-story ranch home burn to the ground, while the local firemen helplessly stand by. A 100-year-old tinderbox of shooting flames, fanned by the October winds slowly dies away. An unexpected and hopeless situation is my new reality. I am devastated, shocked, and I feel so vulnerable as our homelessness is obvious. I hold back my tears because in my family we don’t show or talk about our feelings. As the sun sets, I wonder where we will eat and sleep tonight. Will I have a place to do my homework and study for my biology test? I have no clean underwear for tomorrow. My family of six watched in horror as all our worldly possessions went up in smoke.

• We all were in shock and disbelief. We did not talk. We just watched.
• We lost everything but our livestock and farm equipment.
• I lost my precious, coveted fourteen-doll collection.
• We lost all our family photos and important documents, but no family member.
• I carry within me the chilling screams of my mother shouting at the firemen. “Larry is in there! Oh no!” My father drives up and she faints in his arms.

At the time we lived and ranched in rural Surprise Valley, in the northeastern corner of California. Our town, Cedarville, had a population of 600. Yep, a town with a “party line”, hitching posts in front of the post office, the general store, and the grocery store. My high school topped out at 100 students. Our neighbors and townspeople immediately found us an empty bunkhouse and cookhouse, rent-free for the next eight months, while the general store gifted each of us with pajamas and another change of clothing. God provided by using his people as his hands with open hearts and open minds.

Today, I see the same emotions across the faces of the newly uprooted hurricane, earthquake, and wildfire survivors. I see fear, hopelessness, and suffering on the faces of the detained and separated immigrant families. These are our fellow human beings, children of the same glorious God who created each one of us. My troubled heart repeats in silence, “There, but for the Grace of God, go I.”

I want to reach out to every one of them to offer a helping hand up out of the ashes, rubble, and shambles of their lives. Have I done what I am able to do for God’s people, without pausing to look at skin color, sexual orientation, religious affiliation, immigration status, or financial stability? What more can I do?

• I can pray. I can write encouraging cards via snail mail.
• I can donate my time and money.
• I can donate food, household items, and new clothing.
• I can donate new toys and stuffed animals for the affected children and teens.
• I can rally my family, friends, and church members to participate in fundraisers for victims.

I realize I cannot heal all their wounds or provide for all their basic needs. But at the same time, I am grateful for God’s Grace in my life and the opportunity and resources to ease the suffering of my fellow man caught in unexpected, life-threating experiences.

A “Harvest Prayer” from me to you. Blessings and prayers. God is good.

H: Hope comes from the mouth of one man to another.

A: Ask what you can do to help in the “harvest” in order to provide for the needs of others—spiritual, physical, and emotional.

R: Reach out and ask permission to hug someone.

V: Victory over the constant work of the devil by asking the Holy Spirit into your life.

E: Each of us is a gift to each other by how we listen, what we say, and what we do.

S: Sing out with praises to the Lord for all the blessings bestowed upon you and your family.

T: Teach your children about God, take them to church for worship, and end the day with prayer and gratefulness.

The post Are You Ready? The Harvest is Near… appeared first on Priscilla Sharrow.

I so need to feel your prayers as I struggle to take back my heart, soul, and mind because I feel like I am at the bottom of the heap right now.

As you may know, I just spent a week “Writing at the Red House” with Kathi Lipp, three fabulous teachers, and six other awesome women writers. We were so well fed, loved on, taught amazing writing tips and groomed to be social media baby gurus. I left our mountain retreat so encouraged and enthusiastic to finish writing my memoir: BONKED! Life, Love, and Laughter with Traumatic Brain Injury.

Life was so wonderful as God propelled me along his chosen path to share experiences, encourage hearts, and teach coping strategies to the TBI/PTSD Community and others struggling through life. 

At the Sacramento Airport, I rode in a wheelchair, due to my fused neck pain, up to the TSA checkpoint. I got out of the wheelchair, unloaded my iPad and brand new Mac Pro laptop, quart bag of liquids, snacks, shoes, jacket, backpack, and small carry-on. Next, I walked through the metal detector after raising my arms, and then was patted down on my shoulders. NO set-off of any alarms as the lady motioned me to continue walking to pick up my stuff. Great! I was done with TSA. 

Immediately, two women TSA officers approached me and informed me they were EACH going to do a 5-minute complete body pat-down by touching all over my body, breasts, groin area, and put their hands down my pants around the waistband. They moved forward to do these “2  
intimate pat-downs” in front of all the passing passengers and TSA Personnel. They did not tell me why.

Surprised and scared (remember I live with TBI and PTSD), I requested them to take me to a private room for the pat-downs. They did not like that, but took me off to room where they left the door open, made me spread my legs open, touched me very slowly all over my body, while three men looked on in the doorway, the two young men pushing the wheelchair, and a TSA officer.

After the first exam, I was shaking, crying, and told them I was a TBI Survivor. I asked them why they were doing this?? The male supervisor said they detected explosive residue on the wheelchair. They never detected anything on me. They did not acknowledge what I said. All with “stone faces”, the other woman did another complete, intimate “pat-down” for 5 minutes. I again told them I was a TBI survivor. No answer back. 

Traumatized, shaking, crying in the room, one of the wheelchair assistants asked if I wanted to speak with a supervisor. I said yes, and asked him why I needed to be examined two times if the explosive residue was not found on me. He yelled back “You are being rude to my staff”, and then asked what he could do for me. I said nothing. Then everyone left the room except the two wheelchair assistants who tried to comfort me, gathered up my belongings strewn on a corner table, and wheeled me to the Alaska Airlines gate with only 15 minutes to spare before take-off. I sat in the chair sobbing and shaking with my head down. Embarrassed and traumatized. They assisted me by buying a turkey sandwich while the other filled my water bottle. So kind and considerate-Angels from God. ?

My new friend and “angel”- a writing retreat peep, Kelly, had been waiting for me as both were on the flight to Seattle. Immediately aware of my state of mind, she requested the seat next to me, and the Alaska Airlines Flight attendants took care of it all-no questions asked.

The aftermath of the incident: I filed a report with Alaska Airlines-kudos to flight attendants and wheelchair assistants. Informed them I will not fly again. We always fly Alaska.

I canceled our flight to California to visit our children and grandchildren. I filed a report with TSA. I visited my pastor. I asked to be showered with prayers. Cliff is looking for a trauma specialist therapist. I am crying, sleeping, curling up under a blanket, eating healthy foods, watching TV. I can’t even read from my pile of books.

I reached down to the bottom of my feet and heart to tell you my TSA story. Beware when you go through the TSA line. Be prepared as you may be the next one.

Cliff and I are now converted Amtrak train travelers. Well, at least I am. Blessings. ??

The post POWERLESS. SHAMED. BROKEN. appeared first on Priscilla Sharrow.

Four years ago, I came “out of the closet “ about my TBI while at Mount Hermon Christian Writers Conference held every Spring in the Santa Cruz Mountains of California. Gathering my courage, I bravely shared at the dinner table that I was writing a book about traumatic brain injury.

Quickly, I uttered the words before I lost my nerve. Voice shaking, I tried to speak clearly and emphatically.

“I am a traumatic brain injury survivor, and also suffer from PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder) due to the circumstances around my injuries. I am planning to write a handbook with strategies to help TBI survivors cope with their disabilities and rebuild their lives.”

My heart pounded.
My lips quivered.
My hands perspired
My eyes lowered.
My head hurt

I quickly took a deep breath and looked down at the table. I was scared of the reaction I expected to hear, because for so many years, I had carried deep feelings of disappointment, shame, and hurt.

My life pre-bonk had ended, as I knew it, I lived in a smoldering pyre of devastation in the unknown TBI World.

I am no longer “A one-woman show”.I still wish to be independent.
I do struggle with keeping my life, projects, and paperwork organized, 
I do forget where I put things so they will be available.
I do forget appointments.

My ears heard affirmations from dinner mates, total strangers until tonight, aspiring writers like myself.

Acceptance
Encouragement
Interest
Love

My ex-husband, after 25 years of marriage, told me to never to discuss my TBI diagnosis again.My daughter and my son, aged 23 and 21, had great difficulty accepting the physical and emotional changes in their post-bonk Mama.

My family of origin abandoned me-no phone calls or visits.

Many of my friends never visited or called.

Many of my doctors and physical therapists called me a hypochondriac as I searched for better medical care and treatment for my chronic pain and disabilities caused by the TBI. I had to be my own patient advocate.

As a survivor who had developed some strategies to reclaim and rebuild my life. I stated I was deeply concerned about rehabilitation for our soldiers returning from war and football players with repeated concussions leading to TBI. With a shaking, quivering voice I quietly shared my writing plans with the other aspiring writers.

Karen Ball, a literary agent from Oregon, was leading the introductions for our table. She was interested in seeing my book proposal and first three chapters when I had them completed. I was so shocked and excited; I didn’t know what to say. It was 2015 and I never completed nor sent Karen my proposal or chapters. I was courageous, but so overwhelmed with the proposed project.

“I don’t think I could ever complete such an assignment”, whirred through my thoughts. I regularly forget my medical appointments, how could I ever meet writing and editing deadlines? Impossible.

This was my third year at the conference, so I had come equipped with more confidence, writing skills and ideas of what type of writing to pursue. For over a year I had been writing “Hummingbird Whisperings-God’s Nectar For Your Soul”- a human interest devotional for my church’s monthly newsletter that was mailed out to over 400 homes throughout the United States.

As I sit at my laptop, tiptoeing into the cyber world of blogging, I am ready for this new commitment.  I have thought about it for the past six years, when I decided to become a non-fiction writer.

I have gathered courage from within to jump into this new experience with both feet. Sweating palms, shaking legs and clenched jaws just mean I am scared. Scared of what?  Scared that I will fail all of you, my “TBI Tribe”-A group of persons having a common character, occupation, or interest, namely traumatic brain injury.  How do you like my new definition?  I have been on a long life journey of discovery into which this “Post-Bonk Priscilla” really is and what is she capable of now and in the future. 

When I was bonked on the top of my head by a heavy computer and case falling from the overhead bin in a moving airplane, my world came to a grinding halt. Carried unconscious on a mummy board off the airplane into a waiting ambulance and delivered to the ER of a skid row hospital, I had no knowledge of what I had lost.

Three days later when I was able to stay awake more than four hours a day out of 24, I picked up the local newspaper from the kitchen table. As gazed at the print, my eyes jumped all over the page. I tried to focus again in order to read the front-page story. Again I tried to focus my eyes on the black print to no avail. I could not read the paper, nor could I comprehend any of the words. I understood NOTHING! One BIG BLANK!

Little did I know, this would be only one of many challenges I would face as my brain no longer processed in the way I had know my entire life.  I was only 47 years old, in the prime of my life.

I was dizzy, with a terrible headache all the time, and living in a dark, black cave with an elephant sitting on my head.

I am a goal setter and a goal getter. Close friends and family members jokingly say that my middle name is” Perseverance”, because I might get knocked down in life, but I never give up.

Getting distracted, disoriented, forgetful, discouraged, and exhausted are constant companions of the post-bonk Priscilla. Always I try to remember the strengths and abilities of Pre-Bonk Priscilla as I strive to outsmart them or make friends with them as I plan each day. Life Planners (paper), phone apps and timers, color coding with plastic tabs and highlighters, ear plugs and noise cancelling headphones, sunglasses, and brain naps are just a few of my tips and tricks to survive and thrive as a TBI Survivor.  Whether you are a TBI Survivor, caregiver, medical personnel, child, spouse, or loyal friend, I welcome you to the “TBI Tribe” here at Hummingbird Haven Inn.  Please come in and sit awhile.

Share your thoughts, struggles, and celebrations. You are not alone.

The post The Secret Is Out… appeared first on Priscilla Sharrow.