15 Minutes

15 Seconds Image Gallery Herald Angels

Family Tree

15 Minutes at a Time


Each one of us has been given a unique life. It has been said that when your path gets too bumpy, you should take life one day at a time. As far as I'm concerned when you find the REALLY big bumps sometimes 15 minutes at a time is more than enough.

Feel free to download / copy anything you see in this section. It is not copyright - it is all mine. I would only request that you put my name (C. Dohan) at the bottom of what you use. 

Light a Candle

Rise Up



Take This Life

Ask Carefully

Angel Accounts

2004 - 2005

Do You See  



A Mother's Call 

My Cup

My Path

Parkinson's Disease

It's Yours

Give It Up


Book Ends

Death's Door



Light a Candle


Having faith & strength to pray for a friend or acquaintance you see every once in a while can be daunting.  Having faith & strength to pray for a family member under your roof who you see hourly can be even more daunting.

 As my situation seemed without remedy or relief, the quiet voice of God said to me “Light a candle”.

 “But I’m not catholic” was my hasty reply.

 “Light a candle & you will learn” came the rejoinder

 “What will I learn?” was my quick response.

“Just light a candle & you WILL learn”

So, I cleared a space on my dresser & laid down a white silk runner to more or less cordon off a spot.  Next I searched out 2 pillar candles and 2 oversized sturdy candle plates (assumed God wanted to teach me something other than fire safety!!)


With a single prayer in mind for each of my two children, I lit the candles simultaneously & awaited instant enlightenment.  Complete silence ensued.  Not a thing except my stomach gurgling & the cat meowing..  However over the next few weeks, I came to understand many things.

                        Lord hear my prayer…&
                        let my cry come unto Thee!

Although I am not always with it, the flame continues to burn.  Likewise, when I am sleeping or otherwise occupied, my prayer still burns bright at the throne of God.

                        Lord hear my prayer…&
                        let my cry come unto Thee!

Walking into the room which is dark save for two candles, I see that a tiny light (small morsel of faith) goes a long way in the pitch dark (time of helplessness).

                        Lord hear my prayer…&
                        let my cry come unto Thee!

Watching the candles change shape as they burn and melt down, I see that our bodies/characters change as the fire of tribulation touches them.

                        Lord hear my prayer…&
                        let my cry come unto Thee!

Whilst going to put up new candles to replace the almost used up ones, I am admonished to let each candle burn out on it’s own.  God can make shine the end part of our lives or the parts we consider value-less.  God has use for ALL of our lives.

                        Lord hear my prayer…&
                        let my cry come unto Thee!

The warmth generated by the candle cannot be seen, and reminds me that likewise there are aspects of my prayer requests that I cannot see.

                        Lord hear my prayer…&
                        let my cry come unto Thee!

The candle growing smaller and smaller due to the flame shows me that my problem grows smaller and smaller as I expose it to the flame of faith.

                        Lord hear my prayer…&
                        let my cry come unto Thee!

The irregular, unpredictable shape of each candle as it burns shows me that while we may all look similar on the surface, if we allow ourselves to be exposed to the light of God, we will all be made different.

                        Lord hear my prayer…&
                        let my cry come unto Thee!

I observe that as the candle, a solid mass, is exposed to the flame, it loses shape and size, looking in the end, smaller, lighter and completely changed.  Likewise, our burden can be lifted, changed and lessened when exposed to the flame of faith.

                        Lord hear my prayer…&
                        let my cry come unto Thee!

 I notice that the scent of the candle clings to my garment and goes with me.  Likewise, God’s unseen arms hug me even when I depart.

                        Lord hear my prayer…&
                        let my cry come unto Thee!

I notice that when I am still and quiet, I can her the candle crackle, sizzle and pop, as the wick diminishes and the wax melts. It continuously makes noises even if I am too distant or too busy to hear it.  Likewise, God’s voice can be found in quiet places and he is always speaking to us.  Whether or not we hear is our choice.

                        Lord hear my prayer…&
                        let my cry come unto Thee!

I find that one tiny flame can light innumerable other wicks.  One light of faith can ignite the faith of many lives.  Let your light shine.

                        Lord hear my prayer…&
                        let my cry come unto Thee!

Family and guests remark on and inquire about the lit candles.  Like candles, our faith shining in our daily lifestyle will draw others to us.

                        Lord hear my prayer…&
                        let my cry come unto Thee!



            Click here to hear the music




The Journey to the Site

I found myself in my early thirties with 2 young children, a husband & advanced Parkinson's Disease.

Stiff & shaky, I was often incontinent of urine, needed lots of help dressing.  It was an ordeal of momentous proportions to "get mother ready" just to move about the apartment - never mind to the car & out.  At night I drooled excessively & had to sleep standing up strapped against a wall in order to be able to breathe.

So I wailed out to the universe (not expecting an answer) "God, why don't you just take me now & quickly?!"  To my surprise & consternation, a reply came, "Because it's not time yet."

Bound, by the chains of Parkinson's, exhausted beyond words, feeling I had nothing to lose by carrying on this inane conversation with the voice of God, I replied,"So when is my time - & why can't it be now??"

The voice replied, "It is not for you to know the time & it is not soon"

I replied, "But God, I'm a nurse.  I know that nobody ever gets cured of Parkinson's Disease - it only gets worse.  I can't imagine continuing to live this way."

The result - silence from the great beyond.  In my irreverence, I thought that either I had stumped the Big Guy, or at least put Him in His place.  Fortunately, sanity and reverence kicked in.  I decided I didn't have an answer because I had asked the wrong question.

So I queried, "God, how can You expect me to live like this.  You know that nobody has ever been cured of Parkinson's disease."  The voice responded, "Oh, really!"

I began listing famous people with Parkinson's - some still alive, others who had died with Parkinson's:  the Pope, Janet Reno, Mohammad Ali, Michael J. Fox, Mao Tse-tung, and others.  To this, the Voice responded "You're correct." My response was "So. if  I can't live with this and, if the rich and famous, with all their connections, can't be cured, how do you expect me to be healed?"

In almost childlike simplicity and innocence, the very wizened voice responded, "Why can't you be the first?" 

I said, "Fine God, make it happen".  The response - no instant miracle, but rather the start of a journey. 

Almost a quarter of a century later, most people don't even realize that I have Parkinson's when they meet me for the first time.  Many of the techniques on this site are ones that I've found, modified, learned in order to cope initially and then diminish the signs and symptoms of Parkinson's to where today they are barely noticeable.

Much of what is on this web site and my sister site (www.AmidAngels.com) has been a part of my healing process.  I believe that all things are possible, but some things just take longer than others.  And my purpose for this site is to share what has taken me a quarter of a century to learn with the hope that it can help others who may find themselves in "supposedly" impossible situations.



Up arrow       rainbow




Take this life
That I call mine
Take it Lord
And make it Thine.

Take this vessel
Made from dust
Do with it
As you must.

Take this vessel
Made of clay
Fashion it in
a Holy Way.

Take this vessel
Made from clay
Use it in
a Holy Way.

Take this life
It belongs to Thee
Take it, make it
What it should be.





(You Might Get It!)

It was the spring of 1976 and I had been married to my husband, Bill, for less than two years.  We were living in Dartmouth, Nova Scotia, where I was working as a nurse and he was pursuing his career with the Canadian navy.

At this point in particular,, he was on the Canadian destroyer HMCS Iroquois, out on a fishing patrol somewhere off the coast of Newfoundland.

The long Easter weekend was approaching.  I had just finished machine sewing a a new coral coloured dress for Easter Sunday.  My neighbour was going to pin the hem up for me that evening, Thursday, so that I could finish the garment easily before church on  Sunday.

Within the past month, my husband and I had decided that, rather than investing in a new car, it would be money well spent to overhaul our existing green Vega.  We had just completed the task by having mechanical corrections done as well as a bumper to bumper paint job.  The car looked and acted brand new again.

I was in the car, headed home from work, on the toll bridge between Halifax and Dartmouth.  Traffic was stopped for the toll, and I was unwinding in the car, contemplating the free evening ahead of me.  I realized I was the last car in the long line-up.   Glancing in my rear view mirror, I saw a big car bearing down on me.  It was traveling at a good clip oblivious to the traffic situation.  The big car showed no sign what-so-ever of stopping.  Indeed it didn’t stop until it had ploughed into the rear end of the Vega, pushing the trunk and back seat all the way into the front compartment of the car.  There it sat – a gleaming mass of new looking green metal, with me squished behind the steering wheel.  I was unable to get out as the driver’s door was no longer serviceable, being crumpled beyond recognition.

Bridge police and rescue workers arrived & pried open the door to extract me.  I was apparently none the worse for wear, but very shaken and dazed.  They offered to take care of the remains of the car and to drive me home.  I numbly accepted the offer.

As I was walking up the front steps to our house, still visibly shaken, a neighbour approached.  He talked briefly to the police and quickly assessed the situation.  Knowing that Bill was at sea, he insisted that I should not be alone and invited me across the street to his house.  Although we were good acquaintances with our neighbour and his wife, the last thing I wanted at that point in time was to be around people.  He was persistent so I gave in obediently toddling after him.

He sat me down, ordering me to relax with a tall mug of warm milk.  I graciously declined but he insisted.  So I took the mug, pinched my nose and downed at least half of the drink.  My eyes stung, my throat burned and I gasped – but it was too  late.  I realize I had just downed at least 5 oz of rye whiskey - straight.

As I was trying to absorb all the elements of my current predicament – the accident, my husband’s absence, the “warm milk” and the easy chair that offered no easy escape, my neighbour’s wife’s voice sang through the open door.  “You’ll never guess why I’m so late!  I was stuck behind far an accident on the bridge.  I’m sure it was the remains of Bill & Connie’s Vega, and I think they just got it back from the shop last week.”  His response was “I know, and you’ll never guess who’s sitting in our easy chair.”

Kentucky fried chicken arrived, and my desire to return home was over ridden by their insistence that I join them for supper.  I reluctantly agreed and then realized that my mother had given me valuable advice as a child.  It was advice that I wish I had heeded first thing that morning – always wear good underwear, because you never know when you might get in an accident and end up at a hospital.  This eleventh commandment had been engrained in every girl’s psyche growing up in the 1950’s.  I regret to say that I had broken the eleventh commandment and was about to pay for it.

My kindly neighbours insisted in ushering me to their dinner table.  As I stood up, the unmistakable sound of denim ripping rang out through the living room.  The world stood still as we all realized that my blue jeans had ripped across the entire length of the back seam.  What was visible to the naked eye was not a pretty sight.  Shreds of discoloured floral flannel drooped out of the gaping hole.  A sweater was hastily sought to tie around my waist and I sank ungraciously into the nearest full back chair.

Within half an hour I thankfully escaped to my home and my bed.  I awoke a few hours later to discover than an unfamiliar and unpleasant sensation was encompassing my entire body.  It seemed to radiate from my spine.  The entire length of my spine ached and any body movement at all was stiff and somewhat painful.  I couldn’t lift or bend, and was generally uncomfortable.  I took a taxi out to Emergency, where I was prodded and x-rayed, given pain killers and a soft neck collar to go.  I was told I probably had whiplash, and if unresolved within 48 hours, I was to follow up with my family doctor.

This I did.  As the days turned into weeks, my condition did not improve.  I was off work and my back ached constantly.  I avoided any unnecessary motion such as picking up dishes or bending to put on my shoes.  Even the smallest, most common-place activity, like picking up a book to read, was planned in advance and executed very slowly.  An unexpected sneeze or cough was agony beyond description.

I filled my days taking all the recommended pain pills, anti-inflammatory medication, wearing my soft neck collar, and participating in pool exercises, ultraviolet, and massage therapy.  I did the rounds of general practitioners, specialists, X-ray and sundry diagnostic testing rooms.  I tried non-invasive alternative therapies such as herbs, magnets, acupressure and any form of heat application – whirl pool, heating pads, hot water bottles, sleeping on an overly warm water bed.  All the learned medical professionals, none of whom were in pain, proclaimed that, as I had been initially so young and healthy before the crash, the pain would certainly resolve itself within three to six months.

Month three passed with chronic and unceasing pain.  I still couldn’t lift or bend, nor could I find a sitting position that was tolerable for more than a few minutes.  Lying down was equally as difficult.  I spent many night hours pacing the floors, unsuccessfully seeking relief from the pain.

Pain had become my constant companion, and we didn’t get along well at all.  We were relentlessly at war, with pain proving to be a ferocious adversary.  There was never a moment that I was not aware of a chronic ache, running up and down my entire spine.  Specifically one angry, throbbing vertebra, at approximately chest level, seemed to be becoming pain’s most effective weapon against me.  As this vertebra was continually swollen to some degree, it came to be nick named my “crab apple” vertebra.

Month six crawled into month seven which crawled into month eight.  The doctors pronounced that the probability of any further recovery was negligible.  I was as well as I was going to be.  It was a time to accept the pain with its consequences and limitations.  It was time to mould my life around the pain and live out my days accordingly.

This was not what I had wanted to hear.  At age 23, many long years of unending, incomprehensible pain and disability loomed ahead of me.  It was beyond what I could fathom.  It was dark, sorrowful, and inescapable.  It rushed toward me to claim me.

It was in this circumstance, alone one evening, pacing up and down on the ugly red bedroom carpet, that it became obvious to me that either  my pain had to cease or my living had to cease – the two were not compatible.  I felt certain that there was little, if any relief available from medical science.  That left only the Great Unknown.

I stopped pacing.  I remembered my Sunday school, Christmas and Easter services, and the quiet faith of my grandparents and others known to me.  I stopped and said out loud, “God, if You are real, I need to go to You as the Source.  If You are real, then You made me and You know me far better than even the best trained human can.  If You are real, then only You can take the pain out of my crab apple vertebra.”  Before I could even catch my breath to carry on, I was aware of an odd and invisible presence in the room.  An intense heat started inside the crab apple vertebra and radiated outwardly, encompassing that single vertebra.  In my mind’s eye, I saw a white light, starting inside the crab vertebra and breaking forth in beams in an outward manner.

Truthfully, I was terrified.  I was in the middle of something I had never experienced before and did not understand what was happening.  I tentatively put my hand back to the location of the crab apple vertebra.  There was no longer any swelling there.  I moved my fingers up and down, thinking I must be mistaken in its location.  I noticed that as the pain continued up and down my spine, it jumped completely over the spot where the heat had glowed.  It was then that I realized that there was indeed a God, who formed me, cared for me, and knew me.  He had given me exactly what I had asked for – relief from pain in my crab apple vertebra.

The strange presence began to leave my room and I knew instantly that I should have asked for all the pain to be removed or my entire back to be healed.  I had underestimated God, and had timidly asked for relief in the one vertebra.  He would have given me more if I had asked for more, but instead He was a true gentleman and had given me only what I had specifically requested at the time.

Life suddenly returned to “normal”.  I was not surrounded with an angelic choir.  I did not radiate with a supernatural aura.  The doors of heaven did not suddenly open above me raining down riches too great for me to gather.  God did not reveal Himself to me with promises of miracles or a predestined great calling for my life.  Normal, every day humdrum life set in.

This experience proved to be only the first step in a long journey as I continued to learn more about the God of the Universe and His plan for my back and my life.  God had begun to build a foundation, and many more building blocks were yet to be added.  As months of chronic pain ensued, I daily regretted underestimating God and seeking relief in such a small area of my back.  As the pain continually marched up and down the length of my spine – always jumping right over the crab apple vertebra and leaving it alone, absolutely pain free – I was continually reminded that God could do instantly what man had proved incapable of doing in a whole year.

God does indeed exist.  Be careful what you ask for – you might just get it.







I know that angels exist for I have seen them with my human eye many times.  I don’t consider their participation in my life odd or out of the ordinary.  However, I would consider their absence bizarre.

I believe they are active in everyone’s life but don’t always show themselves or we don’t see them.

I know angels can take many forms & will manifest themselves in the way most appropriate to the situation at hand.

I have been hesitant to post my angelic visitations on such a public forum & do so now somewhat reluctantly.  My family & friends are well acquainted with many of my angel encounters.

I trust my “angel posts” will encourage, uplift & bless you.  Watch this page for future posts.



It has been my experience that “angel encounters” occur in life’s every day chores and activities.  This was the case with the “angel encounter” I call The Helping Hand.

It 1983 & I was out doing my big monthly grocery shop with eighteen month son Matthew in tow.  A very ordinary activity on a very ordinary day.

You must realize that at that time, a grocery cart was just that – a grocery cart.  It was a large raised basket on wheels with a handle for pushing.  There were no such things as toddler seats or safety harnesses.

It was typical for any grocery store at that time to have several mothers pushing these carts.  Trying to keep both toddler and groceries in the cart was no easy task.  Toddlers routinely played with all the “crushables” whilst trying to escape the confines of the cart to explore the exciting colourful world beyond.

The air was customarily filled with mothers’ warnings ..”Don’t stand up!” “Stay sitting!”  “Watch or you’ll fall out  of the cart!”

My case was no different.  Matthew was situated in the cart supposed to be seated – but often caught standing and stretching.  I was attempting to contain my son while at the same time fill up the cart with groceries as fast as possible.

Going down the laundry detergent aisle, one of a mother’s fears was realized.  My toddler stood up awkwardly – stepping on the bag of frozen peas.  In doing so, he flipped backwards falling out of the cart.

There was nothing I could do but watch as he careened toward the concrete floor while images of hospitals and head injuries raced through my panicked mind.

Suddenly & unexpectedly, as my son’s body was completely parallel with the floor, a huge hand appeared under him and righted him back into the cart.

Then, just as quickly as it appeared, it disappeared.  My son was safe and sound & we faced each other with odd looks on our faces.

A perfect ending to this would be that Matthew learned to stay seated in shopping baskets.  To the contrary as he often told me his big angel was there and wouldn’t let him fall.  I never saw the angel – just his hand that once –but my son was sure taken care of in bizarre & unusual ways through his very adventurous growing up boy years.



2004 - 2005


As one year ends and another lies before us, we pause to reflect on what was & ponder on what might be.

We stop to thank You that we have been born in this prosperous place & in this prosperous time.

We pause to count our many blessings & realize that all that we do have far exceeds that which we see ourselves as lacking

For the unique life and unique life path that You have given each one of us, we give You thanks.







I give thanks for the bad,
For because of it
I know what is good.

I give thanks for the past,
For because of it
I can rejoice in the present and
Do not fear the future.

I give thanks for my enemies,
For because of them
I do not take my friends for granted.

I give thanks for the lack,
For because of it
I can recognize and appreciate abundance.

I give thanks for the dark,
For because of it
I know what a privilege it is to walk in the light.







Take my life, Lord,
and let it be
dear Lord to Thee.

Let there be, Lord
 far less of me
And so much
more of Thee

Make and mold me
in Your fire
‘til You only
are my heart’s desire.

Take what was me
and make it new.
Make it something
that You can use.

Refine me
and make me new.
Let me walk hand in hand
with You.

Let our hearts merge
and become one.
Just do, Lord
What must be done.






 More verses follow score              Click here to hear the music


In my work, Lord & in my play,
Let my mouth say what Yours would say.
Let my thoughts be what yours would be.
Make me, Lo-rd, just like Thee.

Let my mind know what You would know.
Let my feet go where Yours would go.
Let my eyes see what Yours would see.
Let me be Lo-rd, just like Thee.

Let my life, Lord, Your image be.
Oh dear Lo-rd, just of Thee.
Let the world s-ee only Thee
When they cast the-ir eyes on me.

Alleluia to my Lord and King,
L-e-t this be my offer-ing.
As to Thee I my body bring.
Alleluia – my everything.




A Mother's Call



I take this life You loaned me
And give her back to You.
I’ve done all that I’ve been called to
And now it’s up to You.

I place her fully
In Your loving care.
Watch, guide and keep her
Here and everywhere.

Give her strength and wisdom
And guide her in Your way.
Love, instruct and keep her
Safe – both night and day.

Form her vessel wholly
As it was meant to be.
I give her now entirely
Over to You from me.

For my daughter
Angelica Praise Dohan
28 Sep 2004




My Cup

Rather than lead a life of negativity and self - pity, God has allowed me to choose to build a positive life of joy and thanksgiving.

At times my cup has overflowed and I give You thanks.

At times my cup has been full and I know I am blessed.

At times my cup has been half empty and I choose to see it as half full.

At times my cup has been ninety per cent empty and I choose still to see it as ten per cent full.

At times my cup has been empty and I give thanks that I still have the cup.

At that time that the cup itself was broken, shattered beyond recognition, I thank You that I still had the pieces.

At that time I picked up the pieces and rebuilt the cup myself, I thank You that You watched and carried me.

As my unsound, frail creation failed and my vessel broke again, I thank You that You picked up the pieces and fashioned a unique vessel of Your choosing.

As each moment passes, I thank You for knowing me and creating me a unique vessel to Your specifications that will withstand/overcome any fires or trials that this lifespan encounters.



My Path

I do not get overwhelmed but give thanks for what many may think has been a difficult life.

The path I have travelled has caused me -

not to fear pain or disease as God has already sustained me through the unspeakable

not to fear death for I have already passed through its door

not to fear adversity or turmoil for I have been surrounded by angels

not to fear poverty for through it I have learned the vanity and futility of earthly goods

to view a field of queen anne’s lace sprinkled with wild corn flowers and to treasure it above jewels

to glimpse a coloured sky and know it is more priceless than any work of art in any gallery known to man

to gaze on the face of a bag lady/tramp and see a beauty which transcends the human realm

to rest my eyes on a tree and continue to be amazed by the attention to detail given to every single leaf making it unique from the billions of others

to inhale and feel the breath of God infusing my every bronchiole, corpuscle and fibre of my being

to greet each waking moment – no matter what the prospects or pain level – with thankfulness and sincere gratitude

not to fear today or tomorrow whatever they may bring for I have seen yesterday and know God is with me and
to know that those who see only surface beauty see nothing at all.



Parkinson's Disease


It never ceases to amaze me how often people diagnosed with Parkinson’s Disease give up & wait for disability & death to over take them.

Men & women who have survived war, women who have done natural drug free labour –hear the four words “You have Parkinson’s Disease” & they crumble - become frail, turned in on themselves. They just give up.

I often say they’ve already died but haven’t had the courtesy to get buried.
They are walking corpses giving off the smell of death – complaining, not trying. They have P.D. & they are darn well going to make sure the rest of the world knows it & what a terrible burden it is.

Often, but not always, these are seniors who have had opportunity to raise children, follow career paths, travel, establish retirement funds.

Having PD is not the news anyone wants to hear but get real – it could certainly be many hundred of times worse. Everyone gets some THING to deal with in life & as far as THINGS go, PD is not the worst.

You could have something really painful – like irritable bowel syndrome.

You could have something worse –inoperable brain tumor or Louis Gherig’s.

You could have been born in this era in a poor country where if you actually survived into adulthood, meds for PD are just not available.

You could have been born 20-30 years earlier - before the current drugs were available even in the prosperous countries like the USA.

It does matter how a Parkinsonian carries him/herself. What if a neighbor, your spouse, your child, your sibling becomes diagnosed with PD somewhere along life’s road? Will they think back to the only Parkinsonian they know (you) & see a life of complaining & medical appliances or ??????????????

For those with young onset PD – What example are you setting for your children? Will they follow your example when they hit their own stumbling blocks on life’s path? Will they give up or overcome?

I have Parkinson’s Disease – it does not have me. I have incorporated it into my life path, it has not incorporated me.

I am 49 & truly grateful for each breath I draw, each extra moment I have with my children, each sunset viewed, each warm embrace from my husband, each fresh crop of strawberries I encounter ...……

I challenge any one of you to take the time to count the really good things in your life. Soon you’ll find you’re so busy encountering the good that you have no time to find the bad. Don’t give me complaints or excuses - I guarantee you whatever your whine, I can do you one better!

-had PD 14 years (since age 35)
-misdiagnosed for 10 years – everything from hypochondria to MSA (You’ve got 3 months left to live. Expect a long & lingering death as meds are not helpful in MSA)
-while misdiagnosed - -stiff, incontinent of urine, drooling – fed & dressed by my young children
-mother trying to raise 2 high maintenance children – one with depression, one with asperger’s syndrome
-unable to continue a nursing career
-unable to pursue any of my hobbies /talents developed over the first 3 decades of my life piano, handicrafts, public speaking
-major move (to US from Canada) leaving all friends & family to come to a complete unknown
-having enough training (registered nurse) to know long term effects of PD on the human body

And there is more but……………

I am thankful.

Having PD did not rob me of a career but forced me to stay home & develop a unique & cherished relationship with each of my offspring. I will never regret that part of it.

Having PD did not force me to give up the hobbies I loved but nudged me over to find some new ones I would never have dreamed could give me so much satisfaction - metal detecting, geneaology.

Having PD did take me off life’s busy highway & allow me to carve out my own path on which I can stop to smell the flowers along the way.

I volunteer at schools & local agencies. I chaperone the teenage school events – including overnight excursions, I run a small business on the net.  (NONE of my clients even know I have PD- unless they read this!).  I hit the pool five days a week &
exercise for fifteen minutes whether I feel like it or not.

Sure, I drop things, shake & fall but I laugh at myself & carry on. It
doesn’t take the rest of the world more than a brief encounter to be
comfortable with me & yes ask lots of questions about PD. (Those who know me laughingly refer to it as Connie’s one on one PD public awareness campaign!)

I travel alone internationally – Canada & Jamaica. Some times it’s
a “disaster” & I end up on the “side lines’ in a borrowed wheel chair in a foreign country. But you know what – life on the sidelines is not bad, just  different. In Jamaica for example, I “missed” the big coffee tour but for a few hours was surrounded by real locals who shared their  customs & hospitality with me. It was an experience none of the other travelers had & money couldn’t buy. If I’d tried to arrange it, I couldn’t have done so.

I paint my toe nails neon blue & just last week did my hair up using my daughter’s metallic green spiker gel.

We laugh a lot at my house – if we didn’t I don’t know how we’d make it through.  (Sometimes I swear neighbours drop by just to see what bizarre chain of events has got the Dohans laughing this time).

Sure some days seem overwhelming but then we do it
hour by hour instead of day by day.

PD is too big for me to handle alone. First thing
every morning, I pray “God cure me or carry me” & then truly leaving the matter up to Him go about the day.

You can set the tone for the circle around you. You can whine & complain & make those around you miserable too or create a bit of joy in your life & in the lives of those around you!

Connie Dohan, Dublin, Ohio



It's Yours

I take the life
You gave me
And give it back
To You.

Take this life
And make it
You can use.

                             Set apart.


                             To rejoice.


                             Made whole.




Give It Up

Bring unto ME this heavy load - 
I'll carry it and you.
For it is plain for all to see -
It's just too much for you.

Bring unto ME this broken heart -
See what I can do.
Watch & rest while I do -
What you can not do.

Give unto ME this shattered glass  -
It's no good to you.
I'll restore & make it new -
For the SON to shine through.

Let ME take this earthly mess -
Put it in MY hands.
You can't begin to comprehend -
But I understand.




I’ve lost it.
Have you seen it?
I’ve looked both
High and low.

I’ve lost it.
Have you seen it?
Oh where
Did it go?

Maybe I never had it.
But I thought I did
Once oh
So long ago.

Maybe if I tell you,
You’ll know just what to do.
Help me find the thing that’s missing.
Or have you lost it too?

I can’t say that it’s big.
I can’t say that it’s small.
In fact, I can’t describe it
Properly at all.

I’ve had money,
I’ve had lovers
But they didn’t fill the hole.
No matter how many things I get,
There’s still
A longing in my soul.

I’ve tried my best to fill it
In every way I know.
But the hole keeps getting bigger.
Can you fill this longing in my soul?




Whether we know it or not, we all practice the rite of “book ending” our days.

In simpler terms, book ending is  how we start & end our day.

The following scenarios are all familiar to each of us in one way or another:

Thirty seconds (I timed it) of time per day can radically change your life if you let it.

FIRST THING in the morning, while rolling out of bed, open your arms & say (out loud or silently) – God, this day is yours.   (Or something similar as suits your personality). (Unto Thee dear Lord, I commit the day).  (I give this day & everything in it You, God).  You needn’t be flashy or ecclesiastical & get all tongue tied with Thees & Thous.  Keep it simple!  And remember to make your mouth do it, regardless of how the rest of your body feels.

LAST THING at night as you roll into bed, close your hands together & say (out loud or silently) God, the night is Yours.  (Or, whatever suits your personality) (Unto Thee, I commit my spirit) (Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep…) 

It literally takes 15 seconds in the morning & 15 seconds at night.  No matter how swamped we are or where we are with our abundant lives, 30 seconds is “do-able”.  And you will be surprised at how much of a difference there is in  the "middle" of your day  when you take care of the "book ends" in a positive manner.




Unto Thee, O Lord,
I commit this day –
In my work and
In my play,

It’s Yours.

In all the bustle,
All the noise,
All the sorrows,
All the joys

It’s Yours.

Take the minutes
And the hours,
Fill them with
Your holy power.

They’re Yours.

Take everything
I say and do.
Make them count,
Dear Lord, for You.




Unto Thee, O Lord
I commit my spirit.
The night looms long.
But I no longer fear it.

Take my spirit,
Hold it tight.
Carry me safely
Through the night.

‘til once more
Day’s sun shines through
And I can give
The new day to You.


Death's Door

Let ME be a Light to you
On your darkened road.
Let ME be a Light for you –
Help you bear your load.

As your night grows darker,
Know that I am here.
I can make your darkness Light
And take away your fear.

As your evening turns to night,
Let Me be your Light.
Let me wrap you in My arms –
Hold you  through the night.

Let Me take your darkness
And turn it into day
Let  Me be a Light for you –
Show you a better way.

DO NOT FEAR your final breath.
Know that I am near.
Death is but a doorway
To get you over here.

As your night grows longer,
And you cannot last,
Let us walk together
Through death’s door at last.

Let Me turn your night to day
So you will clearly see
This not the end – but the start
Of life in eternity.

I can make your darkness day
Take away the fear.
Let Me show you a better way -
Know that I am near.




15 Minutes

15 Seconds Image Gallery Herald Angels

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