My Life

It's December. Things are busy.
That's to be expected. Shopping, baking, kids' homework and activities. Cooking meals, packing lunches, nurturing friendships and nurturing my own soul.
It all takes time and effort. It keeps life busy.

For so long I viewed this "busy-ness" through a negative lens. The introvert in me wanted to just stay home. The farmer kid in me wanted to believe that free play was the best activity for my kids. The protective mom wanted to shield them from the hustle and the hurry. So when our weeks quickly filled up to the point of having but a single night to stay home, I allowed myself to be overcome with guilt and shame at the life I was allowing my family to live.

At least that was how I looked at it up until a few weeks ago.
 It was a warm November Thursday afternoon and I was reflecting on the responses I had given that morning to the question, "How are you?" My answers all sounded a lot like, "Busy...ya, things are chaotic right now. I'm just glad I made it on time. Score one for me!" Then I wrapped up the conversation with a loud sigh, a roll of my eyes and a quick change of topic before they asked me to elaborate: Choirs twice a week, luge once a week, and piano are year long commitments. Scattered throughout the seasons can also be found orienteering, ski lessons (and just skiing for fun), speed skating (and just skating for fun), and wall climbing.
Laid out like that, I feel like a crazy person! I feel like a mom that's over-scheduling her kids and doing them a huge disservice in this age when they could be riding bikes around the block and playing the with neighbour kids (assuming the neighbour kids were home).

That afternoon as I drove home, I came to the realization that I needed to examine this shame I was hauling around and figure out how I really felt about our schedule. Here's what I concluded:
I love my life!
As crazy and chaotic as it is and as much as most days I feel more like a chauffeur than a parent, I love every second.

It only takes my youngest crawling into the car after orienteering, sweaty and out of breath but beaming from ear to ear and raving about what she did that night - I love it! It only takes hearing my eight year old talk about how incredible it feels to feel the wind in her face as she skates at the oval - I love it! It only takes my eldest declaring that she always feels better, happier, after a sliding session at the track - I love it! I love their excitement over finding a minor scale on the piano, all on their own. I love their excitement when they ride the chairlift for the very first time. I love watching their hands hit the top of the wall and then their level of complete trust as they kick off and allow themselves to be lowered to the ground. I love watching them learn and grow and challenge themselves and succeed in ways no one could have ever expected.
I love it!

Yes, we are a busy family. Yes, we have weeks when we'd like to just let it all go. Yes, there are days when I just want to hide because I'm so tired of not being home.
But then there's all the rest...
Those days I see how I am blessed beyond belief.
Those days I am overwhelmed with gratitude beyond words.
I love my life.

My Brother

Unimpressed...

I have a brother. 

Thirty-six years ago, those words would have begun processing in my 2yr old brain.
Undoubtably, there would have no comprehension of the impact those words would bring to my life…

The story goes that my first encounter with my little brother was less than a fairy tale beginning to our relationship. Sources claim that I was not impressed with his chubby, crying presence and that I was even less impressed with his intrusion into MY Mommy’s arms. The story goes that Mom’s heart broke a little as I refused to go to her and instead turned to my Grandma’s lap for snuggles. Lots of drama for one little toddler - how could I have known how that little bundle of noise and poop would soon build a permanent home in my life and in my heart?

How could I have known:

This is ok, right?

• that he would be my first and deepest experience of love extended and the desire to protect someone who could do nothing for me in return?

• that he would teach me about acceptance and teamwork as we became partners in our adventures around the farm?

• that, as I peered through fearful eyes and watched him move through the world with such fearless ease, that I would be the one feeling led and taught by him?

• that he would introduce me to the existence of disagreements and arguments and the feeling of rejection?

• that he would teach about me empathy and compassion as I witnessed (and all too often inflicted) pain in his life?

• that he would grow to become the most incredible example of courage and strength I would ever know?

• that so much of what I now know about myself and about the foundations I rest upon in this world have come by following his example?

• that the knowledge that he is in the world brings a smile to my face every single day?

I have a brother.

How can you say that and not smile?

Happy birthday :)
Lots of love,
Your sister.


P.S. Mom, it’s ok. I forgave you long ago for bringing the little creature into our perfect lives.
Who knew that that creature would turn out to be the greatest gift?

Open Field

Interesting holiday, this past Christmas.
Most occurred as it always does:
Christmas dinners at the parents' houses.
Time spent with family and friends.
A little skating on the lake.
Quiet nights, oh so thankful for those quiet nights.

And yet something was different.
There was an energy. A vibration. A hum that traveled from the tips of my toes to the top of my head. There were moments I woke up feeling electrified, almost overwhelmed with emotion of all kinds: Expectation...Anxiety... Joy...Elation...Courage...

It's that last one that best describes the rest - I felt courageous and I didn't even know why. I still don't. I only can say that I'm feeling the need to step outside these walls and walk a path that has always seemed too risky. A path with an unknown direction or destination. A path through wilderness and other places never seen by my eyes. A path that, despite all these undefined variables, continues to beckon me. Not cautiously inching forward, but inviting leaps and bounds!

This is not me. Perhaps that's what makes it so exciting.
It reminds me of The Message version of Romans 8:15-16:
This resurrection life you received from God is not a timid, grave-tending life. It's adventurously expectant, greeting God with a childlike, "What's next, Papa?" God's Spirit touches our spirits and confirms who we really are.

Confirms who we really are...
I like that.
Let's do this.

Doors Close (by Julie Lee)

Not slammed in my face
but just calmly and sadly nudged
until the quiet click of the latch signals its stop in the jam.

My hand resting
on the door, pausing
in mourning for what has just been dismissed.

Feeling the strength
the solid piece
that I can't deny is needed for protection

of me.  The deafening stillness
when the storm is shut outside.
Doors close

and I mourn the loss even as I
savour the peace and warmth
allow the comfort to envelope me, my head leans
against the jam.

Not in regret -
it leans as I pray a prayer of release,
a prayer of blessing over that which has been shut out.

Doors close.
I rest.

Spark in the Uninspired

It’s been so long since I’ve sat down to type something out.  So long since I’ve had any interest in putting something together to release into the big digital oblivion.  Even now, as I sip my cold cup of decaf, I can’t say that I’m exactly chomping at the bit, knowing what I want to say.  All I know is that I’m feeling it’s time to open this back up again...

The question rolls around in my mind: where have I been the last 9 months?  I put in my 3 months of work.  I wrapped up the school year for my kids.  I escaped for the summer.  I returned for the school year.  I battled a sense of aimlessness and questioned my purpose.  I rediscovered a sense of ease in my life that was lacking for months.  I am feeling at peace, like I’m coming closer to a home that I’ve never seen but have been journeying toward for a long time.  

Where have I been for the last 9 months?  To be honest, I have been uninspired.   

This word has been floating around in my mind since July.  Uninspired.  All but unwilling to pick up a pen and journal.  Uninterested in picking up a brush to start a new painting.  Uninspired.  

It reminds me of a song I knew when I was growing up:

On the wire, balancing your dreams, hoping ends will meet their means, 

but you feel alone.  

Uninspired.  

Oh but does it help you to know that I believe in you?

There was something in these words.    

It wasn’t until I had time to be still at the lake that I began to feel life returning to me.  I had to admit that I had been frozen.  Frozen in fear of doing wrong and in unwillingness to make a mistake.  I was frozen by too many options and no one to show me which one to choose. No one to TELL me which way to go.  I didn’t want to be responsible for a wrong move, so I remained frozen in place.  

I felt I was thawing out and it was glorious.

It opened up my summer and made room for joy.  

I’m happy to be home.   

Trading My Chucks...

It almost brings tears to my eyes to even type that.  Indeed, the chucks are being demoted to the back of the closet.  In exchange?  I look at these dastardly beauties that I haven't worn in so terribly long and I wonder what has gotten into me.  

I'm going back to work... I'm going back to work...

I'm going back to work!

I know I shouldn't yell but I just can't seem to hold it in.  I can't say exactly what's at the source of the noise in my heart, only that it bursts out in deafening blasts.  

What I know is there's a lot of fear mingled in there:  

Fear of not being available to my kids all day, every day... 

Fear of not being able to remember how to do a job I haven't done in four years...  

Fear of driving myself to insanity by taking on too much...

So, WHY?! 

Somewhere under all this anxiety there also lies a current of anticipation.  Somehow, without any understanding or clarity, there's a sense of the ground moving beneath my feet...that I'm expectantly stepping out of my comfort zone, away from my safety net, with a big smile on my face and butterflies in my stomach.  The question is, what am I expecting?  

That answer is nothing, and in that void of expectation lies all the joy I've ever known.  

This is not mine to direct or lead or plan.  

This is not mine.

I do have a job, I don't deny that.  I do the work.  I relearn all that I have forgotten (or at least thought I had).  I smile.  I converse.  I commit my attention and my ability to the task in front of me.  

But above all, I confirm that I have to strength to remain "me" outside of the sheltered life I have lived for the past four years.  

It is in that I gratefully find my direction.  

I was not looking for this...

I had all but given up on this part of me and I had thus far been successful in avoiding it.  

Perhaps that's the exact reason it is the path I now walk.  

Here I go...

 ^"This resurrection life you received from God is not a timid, grave-tending life. It’s adventurously expectant, greeting God with a childlike “What’s next, Papa?” God’s Spirit touches our spirits and confirms who we really are. We know who he is, and we know who we are: Father and children."
Romans 8:15-16 (The Message)

Your Will Be Done (I think)

This is an old digital journal entry I came across tonight.  It was something I wrote this past summer while I was unable to connect to the internet.  My goal was to get it posted when I got home.  I forgot.  Normally I would have just let it fall as a missed moment, but tonight I feel pressed to post it anyway. 

Here goes...

Last night, I prayed.  It was a desperate prayer full of wrestling with God.  I was praying for a miracle.  To be specific, a miracle of MY choice.  The wrestling came within myself as my words,  insisting on healing, and the words of Isaiah 55:9 fought to drown each other out.

Father, heal him!  

(As the heavens are high above the earth...)

LORD, you are good and faithful... Heal him!

(so are my ways higher than your ways...)

God Almighty, to you all things are possible!  Nothing is impossible!  Breathe your life into him!  Wrap him with your protection!  Heal him, Father!  Heal him!

(so are my thoughts higher than yours.)

And so it went... Until the question, “Are not my ways better?”  

A more rhetorical question there never has been to my knowledge.  

It exposed the truth behind my quarrelsome stance:

But God, Your will sometimes hurts...

I’ve felt it in the past.  

I prayed “Your will be done,” and my nephew passed away...  

I prayed “Your will be done,” and my husband lost his job...  

I prayed, “Your will be done,” and my friend’s marriage still ended... 

Granted, I have seen the increase in fruit with each of these tragic events but oh, how I hate the valley!  

My prayer turned honest and vulnerable.  I began spilling my fears and anxiety; all that hurt and pain from circumstances past. 

“God, I trust You know better than me.  I trust Your plans are to prosper your children, not harm them.  I believe that You are faithful to carry us through anything and promise great joy on the other side.  I trust Your will for us is perfect...  It’s just LORD, Your will sometimes hurts...”

Jesus simply smiled, held out his hands and said, “Tell me about it.”

How are you?

“So, how are you?”

Have you been asked that question lately?  I have.  At least a half dozen times today alone.  It would have been nice to be able to have an easy answer but the problem was that most often I don’t really have an answer that I can put words to.  As the inquiring mind sits and awaits my response, my mind battles how to respond.  I could give the proverbial nod and smile, “Doin’ alright” response but honestly, I’ve become a little sick of such trite conversation.  

I guess what I battle with most is a question of my own:

“Do they really want to know?”

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t live a horrible life and it’s not my habit to complain.  It’s an imperfect life that I love and wouldn’t trade for anything.  

My kids keep me busy, my home needs a good cleaning, my hands long to start a new painting even while I have a dozen other projects that need to be done first.  I’ve been fighting with my mental focus and my ability to hang onto details, and it’s driving me nuts!  

How much do you want to know?

Do you want to hear that when you ask that question, my mind explodes into a jumble of activities and circumstances that quickly fades into a fog of indistinguishable happenings?  Do you want to know that while each of my days is highlighted with beauty and joy, they all seem to just run together?  

Ask me how I am and wait.  I’d like to try to explain the connection between the fog of my mind and the swirl of my heart but really all that would come out would sound something like:

“Well, you know...  I feel.”

End of story.  Can you hear the crickets chirping?  Exactly.  The more I think about it, it becomes stranger and stranger...  Even stranger is that I become calmer and calmer.  

So there it is...  I feel.

So, I now ask, how are you?

Know Me Please?

A few weeks ago I was running some errands and in my usual fashion, one of my first stops was at the nearest coffee shop.  (my girls seem to think I have a bit of a problem but that's a discussion for another time :)  
I ended up at a familiar place that I hadn't stepped foot into for over a month, waiting in line and contemplating my order.  Suddenly, a friendly face pops up from behind the counter and asks me if I would like my "usual."  Needless to say I was surprised and honestly, a little embarrassed to be recognized in such a way but as I walked away with my "usual" in hand, I couldn't stop smiling.

Not only had I been recognized but I was known.  A complete stranger had payed enough attention to me - to ME! - to be able to predict what I was looking for.
I can't deny, that one simple fact made my afternoon.

I sat down at a table, enjoyed my coffee a little more than usual, and eventually made my way into the store I had come to the mall for.  As I wandered the aisles I was met by a woman.  I side-stepped to allow her to pass when she reached out and grabbed my elbow to stop me.
"Do you know me?" she asked.  "You look very familiar, but do you know me?"
I searched her face and my memory for cues but all came up empty.
"I'm sorry," I had to say, "I don't think so."
She apologized for bothering me and went on her way.  As I went my way, I found myself wishing I could have said something more positive.  Something less dismissive...  Something that could have had her walking away smiling like I did after I paid for my coffee.

What is it about recognition?  Why is it that simply being remembered can shine light into my day?  What is it about being known that leaves me satisfied?  Fulfilled?

Today was the last day of school for two of my children...

Both received a special note in with their report cards from their teachers.  Both were brought to tears as they read the words written just for them.  

Someone had seen them.  Someone had known them, took the time to reflect that knowledge back and they had felt every word...

I'm left asking:
Who do I see?  Is there someone who needs to know they're known?  Is there something that I to reflect back to someone I deem special?  Do those closest to me know they're seen?
A friend?  A neighbour?  A stranger?  My children?  My husband?

Encouragement.  Affirmation.
A simple smile and a wink that says, "I see you."
All priceless gifts we can give to each other and yet too often seldom seen or heard.
May we learn to be generous.

Painting Flowers

My latest watercolour.  One of two that completed the very first commission I had ever been asked to do.  I could have been really lost in the stress of having it turn out right but at the same time I kept telling myself,  "It is only flowers."

I love painting flowers, I've discovered.  They are not perfect and yet their beauty is undeniable.  They are the natural colour in an otherwise green landscape.  Each one an original.  Each one destined to fade and wilt and fall.

It's so easy to get lost in the details.  Slight bends at the tips of the petals.  Deep dark shadows at their core.  The reflections and unexpected pieces that are so easily overlooked as I walk past.  In passing, the big picture dims the intricacy of each bud but sitting in stillness, it's easy to get lost...  To forget that they exist together.  

I like this picture.  As I moved through it, I liked the impression of the passing of time.  Some faded, some brilliant, some buds whose beauty was yet to be seen.  

Life.  Summarized nicely in this one shot.

I'm happy to have had the time to see it. 

Summer Blush (J.Lee, 2013)

Please Don't Doubt

How do you make them feel loved?
How do you build a young child who is already showing signs of wear and tear from this world?

Too young.  Just six years old.
To afraid to ask for gum, afraid the answer might be no.
Not able to comprehend that the answer is a definite no if the question is never voiced.
But already afraid of "No" - how does that happen?

So much of life still ahead.
So many heartbreaks yet to be weathered.
So many rejections waiting to rip and tear.

How do I, as a mom, even begin to repair the damage?  Do I have any hope in figuring out how to reinforce against future attacks?  How do you say, "You are worth 'Yes!'" to a child so young?

Honey, you are worth "yes" even in a world full of "no."  
Don't fear asking the question.  
Sometimes a "no" is a gift.  
Sometimes it leads you to a "yes" that you never even thought of.
Don't fear the question.
Ask - Full voice - Head held high.
You are worth "Yes."

Someday I will tell her that.  Someday when her six year old brain will understand...
Until then, I pray actions will speak as loud as the cry of my heart.

Too Loud

My life is loud.  So loud.
How do I know?
My ears ring when things get quiet.
When things are silent, my ears buzz like I've just walked out of a rock concert.  Weirder is that my feet tingle too.

No where more so than at the lake.  Away from traffic, planes, ambient light and city buzz.  Out where you can hear a dog bark from a half mile away.  Out where only a full moon can mask the immensity of the stars.  Out where the buzz comes from bugs and the tingle from the nip of fresh air on your nose.
There's space here.  Room...
To breathe.  To run.  To challenge.  To listen.
To be still.  To do nothing.
To pray.

There's peace here.  Yes, and quiet too, but not that kind of peace.  The kind that hits you like a falling snowflake when you step out of the car.  A little sparkle as it lands on your nose, only this doesn't melt away.  It remains.  It grows.  It encapsulates you.  Like a warm blanket around your shoulders and a cool stream over your bare feet at the same time.
Refreshing, relaxing, renewing...

My life is loud.
That's why I like it here.

For real?

I'm done.
Those two words, they seem so powerful.  So definite.  So final.
But are they really?  Really?
When I push back from a bbq steak dinner and say those words, do I not then cut another small hunk to gnaw on as I clean off the table?
When I put my paintbrush down and state those words, do I not itch to pick it back up to tweak those few spots that just don't look right?
Even when I intend on eating "just one" chocolate chip cookie, when on earth do I EVER mean it?!

What's going to make this time any different?

I'm done.
Hearing those words bring to mind a setting sun or a closing door.
No question mark.  No hesitation.
There should be nothing more than the echo of footsteps walking away.

So why do I hear nothing but the sound of my head thumping against drywall as I procrastinate, reciting my regrets and feeding my fears?

Christmas comes and I hide

For as long as I can remember, Christmas has been one of my all-time favourite seasons.  What's not to love?  Pretty sparkling lights, cookies and goodies, time with friends and family, shopping, smiles,  carols you grew up knowing, memories, wonder in the eyes of my kids.  It's a the highlight of the Christian calendar.
Emmanuel!  God with us!!
The bright shining star, the angels, the shepherds, the humble birth of a saviour...

It's a time of year that has always encouraged me to follow the traditions taught to me by my grandparents and has always left me with a warm glow - almost like I could feel them around me.
It's a time of year when I normally am excited by the hustle and the bustle.  I usually love to spend hours baking for the enjoyment of my family.  I usually bask in the glory of spending time to wrap the presents just so and search for hours for that one elusive, perfect present for that special someone.  I would anticipate the look on their faces as they unwrapped it and just savour the... flavour.
Does that make sense?
I love to just savour the spirit of the season.

So what's up this year?

I have no rhythm.  I have no rhyme.  I'm clueless.  I'm tempted to just hide and eat Shreddies on Christmas Eve.  I bought Christmas cookies for the first time at a craft fair and I feel done.
Kinda' like, "Meh... Good enough."
Problem is, I've never before said, "Meh..."
Barely half my decorations have been put on display, most of them by my children or husband.  I've only just began listening to my collection of Christmas CDs.
I just can't find it...  The Spirit...
Like the song, "Where Are You Christmas?"
It's painfully elusive this year.

Emmanuel, yes.  God IS here.
That I know.  That I believe with all my heart.
Leaves me pondering a question...
Where am I?

There is Hope

Did you ever give up a dream?
I'm not talking about a dream of joining the circus or of being able to say that you've stepped foot on the moon.
I mean a dream that held you! 
One that was attached to the very core of your being.  One that you could close your eyes and actually see happen.  You knew the steps that had to be taken.  You knew the barriers that stood in your way and you prayed day and night for God to topple them with a great crashing punch!  The kind of dream that you truly felt was a part of God's plan for your life.

How do you let something like that go?

Like a loss of a loved one, that's how.
With eyes stinging with hot grieving tears you pry open your fingers one by one, letting loose all those hopes that had embedded themselves in your identity.  There you sit.  Hands wide open.
Wide open and empty.
A gaping chasm is left in your chest and all the tears in Alberta can't change that.  If your quiet enough, you might catch the faint whistle of the prairie winds as they blow through you.
Right. Through. You.
It's gone.

Do you trust what remains?

First Go

My first blog... Scary.
So what am I to say the topic of this blog is?  Nothing in particular.  Everything at once.  All in between.  I'm a thirty-something mom of three.  Wife.  Type 1 diabetic.  Off and on runner.  Former engineer.  Beginner artist.  Even after all this, I'm still left seeking peace in my own skin...
Seeking God's purpose for me in this crazy and chaotic life I live.

I grew up on a farm.  Part of my greatest challenge today is living in a city.  In the 'burbs to be exact.  It feels like really the best of no worlds.  I don't have the convenience of city living and I'm missing the open space that comes with residing in the country.  We have good neighbours - something I will forever be thankful for - but I feel stuck in this strange and unsatisfying middle ground.  As if I don't really have a country to claim as my own.  An outsider, perhaps.  Always looking to fit in but never really finding my own niche.

So, what does this all have to do with anything?  Nothing.
Why should you choose to read?  I don't know.
To be honest, this blog is for me and my well-being.  I journey thru my journalling.  In my pages, I discover hurts but also find healing.
You are welcome to journey with me...  If you like.