Okay two caveats as I begin this post…

1.) I cannot take credit for coining the term “birthgiver”! Lanae, my beautifully witty 13-year-old has gifted me that term. I found it one day when I was scrolling through her texts and read “birthgiver” as one of the contact names. I chuckled and asked her if that was how she identified me. She responded with, “well yeah, you gave birth to me so that seems the most accurate”! Now when I call her, she often answers with, “hello, birthgiver, what would you like”.

2.) I am a HORRIBLE gift-giver. It is the lowest of my love languages, I have very little creativity when it comes to ideas and I genuinely DESPISE shopping so that makes it tricky to purchase gifts. Having said that, my mother is an exquisite gift-giver and often has wonderfully thought out gifts that are exactly what the receiver loves. SO….my gift today is a gift of words. Something I can do well and hopefully expresses the love and gratitude I feel for her on this day that is hers.

On to the gift.

There are a lot of things I could say about this woman. She is far from perfect, she’ll be the first to admit it. She’s got some glaring weaknesses (I haven’t met a human being yet who doesn’t) but she knows who she is and she continues to work hard to accept herself just as she is. But today I want her to remember all that is amazing about her, the strengths she has and the ways she inspires others. I want her to see herself as I see her, be in awe of the life she has lived and the things she has achieved.

We’ve had more than a few conversations about funerals (I’ll share more about that later and I promise it’s not as morbid as it sounds) and we chuckle at how the stories are always so positive and uplifting, they usually make the person sound like an absolute saint even if they are a REALLY big jerk. In all seriousness, I think it’s important for the people you love to know just how much they mean to you while they are still here. They need to know the impact they have on those around them so they feel loved, valuable, and understand just how meaningful their presence is.

Our story begins 41 years ago. The beginnings are not really mine to tell. What I can say is that I am thankful for the decision my parents made to care for and cherish each other through some very difficult times and tell you that from the very start, my mom and I shared a unique connection.

Over the years that relationship continued to grow and with it my admiration for her. To be clear, I have a pretty great relationship with my dad as well, but he has always honoured and encouraged how close my mom and I have been, not expecting or pushing for his relationship with me to be a mirror image. When I was younger, I remember many of my friends and classmates lamenting how horrible their own moms were. They would say terrible things about how mean they were. I couldn’t quite understand how people could talk about their parents that way. My mom was pretty great and even through the moments of discipline I had no doubt that she loved me and what she did was in my best interest.

As a teenager and into my young adult years we had our fair share of disagreements. Obviously we didn’t see everything eye to eye…remember how much I hate shopping, well that definitely did NOT come from my mother. She is an avid shopper, with great taste and we often clashed when time was spent in the mall together. However, in so many other areas she was my biggest cheerleader. I can’t remember a basketball game that she wasn’t in the stands. My grade 8 coach identified her by her loud whistle. He often commented, “oh, Charlene is in the building, I can hear her whistling”! My own children know when they need to come running based on that whistle, it has served her well.

When I was deciding on which university to attend, she had such big dreams for me but I had my mind made up and it really wasn’t until just a few years ago that I realized how much she would have liked me to think bigger. When James and I got engaged at the ripe, “old” age of 19 and prepared to be married 8 months later her and my dad made the choice to celebrate our decision rather than argue that we had so much left to learn before we were ready for marriage. When I was preparing to give birth to my first child she graciously agreed to attend his birth (and then told me she wouldn’t be available for any more births because she couldn’t watch her daughter suffer through that much pain). When I went back to school to finish my undergrad, she kept telling me I could do it and at the same time went back to school to finish her masters. When I went back to school again to finish my teaching certificate, she was the first to say how proud she was of me. She’s always been that way with me, giving advice or an opinion but ultimately quietly encouraging me to choose my path and then journeying it with me. I’ve never heard her say, “I told you so” when things went sideways.

I have not always been the best daughter. I think all children are blind to the sacrifices their parents have made to give them the best life. I’ve said some hurtful things, I made some hurtful choices, I’ve been oblivious to some of her own pain, grief, sorrow, sadness, and struggle. But she has never held that against me. She’s been patient and kind. Ready and willing every single time I come back to her with that moment of “a-ha”, that’s what you were trying to tell me.

In the last 10 years, my respect and admiration for her has grown significantly. Her job has been one of sadness and walking a path with people that many could not handle. She has sat at the bedside of many as they take their last breath, walked beside grieving family members, counselled medical professionals as they care for the sick and dying. It hasn’t been easy on her, she’s taken on some burdens she probably didn’t need to but she’s done it with grace and love, out of service for those who couldn’t do it for themselves. Remember those conversations about funerals? We had to find ways to help her deal with all the death and sometimes it meant a bit of black humour. Not for the faint of heart that’s for sure. But through it all, hearing her heart for the people she serves helps me to know just exactly why all four of her children chose careers in areas of service and why we each chose spouses who feel a deep desire to serve others in various capacities as well.

I am thankful for her continued zest for life, her passion for learning (which I’m 100% sure I inherited from her), her open-mindedness that allows for deep and meaningful conversations, her willingness to try new things, her dedication to relationships, her love of family and the joy she takes in seeing us all succeed. I am thankful for the sacrifices she’s made in order to help us out and her desire to be genuine, honest and truthful even when it’s not easy.

Happy Birthday mom! You are such a gift to me and I hope you know how loved you are on this day and everyday.

What to say!  I’ve had a few posts sitting in the draft bin for awhile now.  Reading through them I realize I couldn’t even seem to complete them with partially coherent thoughts.  I’d type a sentence and then stare at the screen, “thinking” for a bit, delete the sentence, retype it and stare at the screen.  It’s a bit of a vicious cycle and perhaps a little what writer’s block may look like.  I would never be able to write a book.  I’d get stuck eventually and the grand dreams of being published would be crushed:)  However, it’s weird how coming back to them much later doesn’t change the truth of them.

In a previous post, I mentioned a variety of life changes that have occured in the last year.  One of them was hitting 40!  Thankfully, I have a wonderful group of friends that celebrates the milestones together and my significant birthday was no different.  We have some fond memories of our “fancy digs”, aptly named for the less than desireable location and overall beauty of the accommodations that were much more appealing in a picture on the rental site than in person.  However, we made the best of it and laughed, cried, argued and made up all while listening to the stomping of our upstairs neighbours and promises that I would never again be responsible for booking our accomodations!

However, the months that followed that celebration left me feeling a bit overwhelmed by the quagmire of the dreaded “middle-age”!  Okay, that sounds ominous and terrible but honestly that was really what I was feeling.  A constant pit in my stomach, tears at the drop of a hat, perhaps not unusual for me but this felt different somehow.  Actually just constant anxiety was filling my days, something I had never experienced before in my life but was clearly struggling with.   I was concerned about finances as we managed James being self-employed and for Sam managing to find the financial means for his first year of university.  Add to the mix some incredibly deep shifts in my spiritual journey.  Questions, conversations, contemplations, readings, podcasts, etc. that left me reeling a bit about what I had grown up with, raised to believe, raised my children in and framed my entire being around, my mental capacity was filled beyond what it could handle.  I saw my doctor knowing that how I was processing was not particularly healthy but not sure how to get things back into balance.  She asked me to do some counselling before we talked about anything else.  I was not surprised and TO BE CLEAR, I am a HUGE proponent of professional counselling.  Three of my four children have been to a counsellor, one whom sees her “therapist” regularly and I have seen it work wonders for many people.  However, that didn’t stop me from feeling apprehensive and nervous.  I can not really pinpoint why I felt this way except that it meant that I had to admit that I was not managing well and managing well is my specialty.  Having said all that, I took my doctor’s advice and saw a professional.  She is amazing, I felt heard, she validated my anxiety, she gave me a number of suggestions and I went home to use them.  They worked for awhile and then they really didn’t.  I think there were two things that made me realize I needed something more than counselling.  The first was lying in bed every night not being able to sleep and usually waking up in tears and the second was calling my best friend and crying on her shoulder over the same issues again and again.  I realized I needed to put some things on the back burner so I could manage the practicality of life.  I had to take stock of what was most important and in this particular time I needed to focus on getting my anxiety around finances in check and focus solely on my kids and work.  I set aside my spiritual quest, understanding I would need to come to it when I was in a more healthy mindset.

Heading back to my doctor was humbling.  I felt defeated as I told her that I was not coping well with life.  She is also a great physician, she’s not particularly warm but extremely professional and matter-of-fact.  She explained to me that sometimes a chemical imbalance is created when a person is under a significant amount of stress for a long period of time.  I was relieved to be understood and to have a solution.  It’s been a few months and it’s taken some processing to work through the need for medical intervention, I can feel the difference it’s made to be taking something to balance out the chemicals that were not in-balance in the first place.  I am also a huge advocate of medication, when necessary, but it’s hard to feel complete and comfortable when it’s your own body betraying you.

Fast forward to now and things are manageable once again, life is back in balance with a few tweaks to make it just right.  As I have begun to manage the practical parts of my life, marriage, work, kids, etc. I feel some freedom to delve back into the area that I’ve put on the back burner for a bit.  There continues to be some deep contemplation and absolutely beautiful conversations with people who are also experiencing some deep shifts in their understanding of self and faith.  I’ve been reminded several times over the last weeks of how easy it is to put our best foot forward, when we present ourselves on social media.  It’s also easy to stop short of asking some pretty big questions and opening some uncomfortable conversations.  As I re-enter the world of writing and sharing online I really do not want to do that anymore.  I want to step into the uncomfortable, engage in some deep questioning and discuss the conversations that some might try to bury.  Perhaps that’s a bit of a reason for the write, delete, write, delete cycle that has plagued me.

I want to be authentic and allow my experiences to be useful and honest for myself and those around me.  I want to engage purposefully, carefully and bravely and help others who are similarly questioning to have a place to begin to process.  I hope for a safe place to process the changes that have happened as I’ve entered this stage of life.  Over the next bit I want to unpack some of my spiritual journey in order to encourage others to journey through it as well.  My eyes have been opened to realize just how many people are on this journey but feel stifled and uncertain as they deconstruct their belief system. 

It has been an incredibly long time since I blogged and honestly it’s not for lack of thoughts or happenings in my life but really more about time, not really feeling much like sharing and maybe just giving the whole blog thing a break when more important things need to be focused on.  However, this week has been interesting.  Full of inner turmoil and so many thoughts in my head.  If you are reading this, I guess I did decide to share it but there is a small part of me that wants to keep it for myself because not everything has be shared publicly right and it’s an unfinished, unanswered part of my life journey?!  But we share so we can learn, share so we can support each other, share so others may know they are not alone in how they feel, or share for the sake of making a difference.

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I took up reading this book as I was finishing my Teacher Education Program.  I knew I would have quite a bit of spare time on my hands through the summer being finished my schooling and recognizing that I was likely not going to be working until September.  So I decided on a book that was non-fiction, a subject I’ve been contemplating, struggling with for quite a period of time now and it would ease me out of the life of being a full-time student as I began summer vacation with my kids.

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Someone asked me that today.  It was a heartbreaking question in the wake of a tragic circumstance.  Both of us sitting on the sidelines of someone else’s tragedy but feeling the soul-crushing loss deep in our own souls because we live in community and we share each other’s burdens.

It doesn’t end, my dear.  But it changes for those of us on the sidelines.  Our heart scars bear testimony to what we witnessed and life goes on.  What changes is the pit in our stomach goes away and the memory of the tragedy doesn’t haunt us in every moment.  We daily are reminded, often in the little things, because it’s impossible to forget.  The tears don’t flow every time we relive the moments but the heaviness remains in the memories.

Sometimes I remember something about that day or week or month and my mind relives the entire process.  Sometimes it stretches that scar enough to make it hurt and other times it feels like the pain of a wound reopened.  It’s never far from my mind, easily retrieved from the corners of my mind to be understood and not understood all at one time.

Sometimes it’s in the witness of another’s circumstance that we are brought back to the gut-wrenching knowledge of our own loss.  But as time passes we are able to pick ourselves up much quicker.  To find the joy in the places we know we can, to continue with the life we’ve been given.

I felt that today after the question had been asked.  I stood in the pew in our morning worship service, thankful as always to be surrounded by people I love and who love me.  My children crowded into the chairs beside and in front of me.  Sunday mornings are often mornings of remembrance for me.  I still can’t define why this is the case but I often find myself thinking of little Ryker as I worship.  This morning my heart was full but he wasn’t far from my mind.  Then a dear friend shared her heart.  She shared of God’s mercy in the midst of tragedy and I was thankful for the reminder.  But seconds later I felt the opening of my heart as my youngest son, hurdled the chairs in front of me, into my arms and sobbed, great heaving sobs into my chest.  He felt it too.  The reopening of a that wound, the recognition that suffering on this earth doesn’t ever end.

We find joy because God has shown us mercy but the sorrow never ends.  It just changes.  It is there for us to give back to Him daily.  To live with the peace that one day it will be taken from us.  But until that day it reminds us that we cannot travel this earth alone.  It brings us back to His feet, seeking comfort.

Dear friend, it will end the day we come face to face with our Creator and alongside those gone before us, are able to lay ourselves at His feet.

Living with the blur

We all know there are times when you just aren’t sure exactly what the plan is and you don’t even know where to start to figure it out.  I feel a little like that these days.  I have nothing to complain about in the big picture of things so I won’t do that, but I do often wonder what the bigger picture actually looks like.  This week has already been amazingly interesting and it was only Tuesday night when I started this and it’s only gotten more intriguing, although, I guess in fairness there isn’t much in my life that’s just quiet and slow-paced.  Most of my life is lived in a bit of a blur and while I know there is constant encouragement from various places to just slow down and live in the moment I literally feel like this stage of my life is somewhat out of my control when it comes to the pace.  I know I can choose to add things or not but quite frankly there is little I can take away at this point.

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NEW THINGS

Okay so it’s been way too long since I updated my blog!  A few things have happened along the way, probably two of the most significant events include starting school and becoming an auntie again!  Funny thing is that both happened on the same day…weird to say the least.  Over the last two weeks both of these events have given me opportunity for a great deal of reflection and added an element of emotion to my life.

At this point I don’t think I’ll have time or energy to get into too much detail but there are a few things I would love to share…

ON BECOMING AN AUNTIE AGAIN…

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Lately I’ve been thinking about why my life is what it is!  Sounds like a deep question right, but honestly it’s not!  The last few weeks, in particular the loss of my sweet nephew, the changes happening in my career and schooling, and some changes happening at James’ work, have got me thinking about how my perspective has shifted.  It’s little things I notice here and there, nothing major or dramatic but little moments that 2 months ago may have put me over the edge that NOW just cause me to shrug my shoulders and keep plodding forward.

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THE WORDS OF OUR HEARTS

Ryker's HandIn times of deep sorrow it would seem a wonderful blessing if the tears that fall could speak the words of our heart.  Alas that is not the case and we are left to use mere words to share the moments, thoughts, and memories to explain the pain that settles in the soul.  Today if my tears could speak they would ask questions.  Why?  Why now?  Why at all?  Why this?  The list of “why” questions would be abundant, seemingly never ending.  But in the quiet lack of response our minds grasp that the questions will remain unanswered, that the anguish and loneliness will settle deep in our souls and be a companion for a time.

I share a tiny piece of this story.  The loss of sweet, sweet dreams and a lifetime of “if onlys”.  The bigger story and deeper pain, the reality of lives forever altered and joys ripped away is borne by two individuals that I love deeply.  One who shares the bond of family ties and the other who chose that bond out of love and commitment.  Joel and Meghan have graced the pages of this blog before.  They exchanged their wedding vows on our 11th wedding anniversary and watching their life together take shape has been wonderful.  In so many ways all the things they have planned have come together so flawlessly.  May 20th will be etched on our minds as a day that flawless became flawed.

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Romans 8:28 says, “And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose”!  For those who do not believe in God or the bible and for those who are struggling in their faith right now those words probably feel like a slap-in-the-face.  I acknowledge that because as a believer who feels growth in my relationship with God I too feel like this passage is immensely hard to grasp.

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