growing couches «

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.

The last few years have involved a few relatively major changes in my life. James and I have both hit the big 4-0, we graduated our oldest and sent him off the university, we celebrated 20 years of marriage, we both began a relatively intense process of deconstructing our faith, we opted to leave a church we have both been a part of since our early teen years, and we got a dog. That last one doesn’t register high on some people’s “major change” list but it certainly does mine!

Interestingly enough, I really didn’t think that any of these things, individually would be life-altering but having them all happen in the span of 18 months really threw me for a loop. The two most impactful experiences were definitely helping Sam navigate his way through his final year of high school and beginning to exam my faith from a different perspective. I think the latter kind of requires a post (or 100) of its own but reflecting on Sam’s grade 12 year is a bit more manageable in one go.

The Beginning of the End

Looking back, the process for graduation really does begin so much earlier than grade 12 with simple things like extending curfews, giving more responsibility at home, finding first jobs, etc. However, these things didn’t quite prepare me for both the tangible, practical chaos or the emotional chaos that comes with that final year. For those of you who know Sam, you understand that he is a solid kid. He’s got a passion for sport that is hard to match, he works so hard and never gives up. Despite sometimes feeling overwhelmed by classes, he gives his best and usually comes out relatively unscathed. Grade 12 was no different for him. He balanced classes with football season, then basketball season, and finally rugby season. All three seasons ending with provincial trips and culminated with an opportunity to play university football. Along the way we had some tough conversations about what would be best for him. I’ve had this conversation with some good friends about the reality of letting your kids make decisions that will impact their future and how difficult it is to truly step back and let them move forward into this unknown domain of adulthood.

I think we all remember the feeling of turning 18 or 19 and feeling absolutely confident that we were capable of making good decisions and no longer wanting the input of our parents. I mean, I remember that feeling… Looking back, I have to give kudos to my parents for their ability to step back and take their hands off trusting that all will be well. I thought because of the great example I had and all the mental preparation I’d done that the next step of releasing my oldest into adulthood would be easy. Boy was I wrong.

Sam’s last football before his team headed to the provincials. He played an amazing game!

I wasn’t prepared for his last high school football game, I wasn’t prepared for his grad lock-in, I wasn’t prepared for his last high school basketball game or taking him for a prom suit fitting or receiving MVP at his last high school rugby game. I definitely wasn’t prepared to watch him march through the gym, all handsome, for prom night. I was probably the least prepared to see him cross the stage and receive his diploma for graduation and then hug him close in his cap and gown as he grinned from ear to ear at having finally accomplished this milestone.

When all that was said and done, I felt certain that the emotions would settle but I wasn’t prepared to leave him at his dorm, drive away and have no way of knowing if he would be in that room every night, safely tucked away for a good night’s sleep, fully fed, happy, socially connected and ready to take on the world with the support of …?

First Weeks of training camp! My kid was struggling with some minor health concerns and they left him bone-tired. He really should have been flat on his back fast asleep but he put a smile on his face and kept at it.

Obviously he’s fine, he’s GREAT in fact and yes he is all those things that we hope for him but I don’t get to know as much as I did when he lived out the joys and challenges of life right under my nose. I have to be okay with hearing a fraction of what I used to and trusting that when he needs us, he knows where to find us.

I’m thankful that he still loves to come home, I’m hopeful that all my children will still love to come for a time until they fully settle into their own homes one day. That will likely bring an entirely new gamut of emotions which I hope I’ll be ready to face. The landscape of parenting is changing and I’m trying my hardest to enjoy all that comes with it.

It seems that this stage of life doesn’t allow for the same thoughtfulness that was once afforded to me. Or maybe it’s more to do with the time to breathe and reflect. However, one of closest friends gave me a journal for Christmas a few years back and it reminded me how much I love writing. More for myself than anything else but having this platform is a pretty cool outlet. Taking an opportunity to share life with people is really what it’s all about. I think I’ve referred to the quote “it takes a village” a few times in this blog and as we’ve become immersed in the teen years in our home I think we’ve cherished that phrase more than ever before. Which is really why I have chosen to blog over the years, it helps me connect my own thoughts and if, somehow along the way it reaches someone else who really needed to feel company in their own journey then all the better.

Anyway, so many years later, I’ve come back here. No promises to myself of how often I may return but for the moment a place to collect myself. Honestly there are so many things I could probably record here. At the time I first drafted this post. Sam was 5 months away from driving, Jake had a year and half left until he entered high school, Lanae was about to enter into the jungle called middle school and only my baby girl, Annie was left to brave the last years of elementary school all by herself.

Now three years later, Sam has just finished his first semester of university, Jake is in grade 10, Lanae is finishing middle school this year and Annie has entered her first year of middle school. No more little ones in elementary school and in a blink all of them will either be in high school or nearly finished.

I’ve come to appreciate why elderly people sometimes participate in life like they are still 25. It’s because the time goes so fast people and it really does feel like 25 was only a year ago. I mean to be fair, I’m definitely not as physically capable as I once was, things hurt faster and heal slower. Getting sick means I should probably plan for at least a week of recovery BUT my brain tells me I still look like the day I got married and my memory, when it’s working, clearly recalls the entire events of the day I gave birth to my first born. So really while 18 1/2 years SOUNDS like a really long time, it passed in mere minutes.

Ha, so I digress, of course. Another danger of middle-age, too much to share, rabbit holes to chase…

I thought I might spend some time picking apart a few tidbits of parenting teenagers. We’ve really only shared in this joy for the six years of parenting but I can definitely understand why people would attribute the accumulation of grey hair to these years. I can also understand, as I read blogs, articles, hear discussion and enter dialogue with other parents, why we so often present such a small face of our lives to the rest of the world. The pace at which we make decisions, the agony we feel as we toil over the right approach, the battles we wage with ourselves and our teens often leave us so drained that the best option is to put on the happy face, take a selfie and celebrate the fact that we survived. Right, I know that’s not a great response but it’s real.

First let me say, as I’ve said before, that every new stage we enter with our kiddos I love that much more than the last. Sure each stage has it’s challenges but there is such joy in actually sharing life with your kids as they grow. Each lesson they learn, each challenge they overcome, each decision they spend time mulling over brings a sense of deeper love for them as people. Even the moments when I question the wisdom of one of their choices I find myself learning to appreciate the ability they have to think through their options and then jump wholeheartedly into it.

When I first began this post I had recently participated in a parenting teen class. It was interesting to be in a room of individuals who were in the same parenting stage as us and recognized that we all had different approaches, different family values, different interests, and yet, the goal we shared was the same. To understand our children, give them space to grow, nurture their inherent worth, teach them to understand our values, faith and choices and then ultimately walk beside them as they continued the journey of discovering all these things for themselves.

Over the last few years, there are few things that have changed in our journey, the biggest one being some shifts in our spiritual perspective, which I’m hoping to document another time. However, the goals we have as parents has not changed. It’s neat to have been able to witness some of these goals met over the last couple of years and know that we are headed in the right direction even if there are a few bumps along the way.

Now that I’m back here, I’m hoping time will allow me to document some of these amazing moments. This little venture is more for myself than anything, people now who want to be influencers use twitter, instagram, daily, weekly, month e-newsletters. I’m just here on my happy little blog archiving the life I’m living and maybe one day it will be a place for my kids to see a piece of me.

It’s been more than a year since I found a moment to share the words of my heart through this forum; unbelievable to think that a year has past already! I remember being a teenager and thinking my life would NEVER really start. Now, many years later, my life has indeed started and is in fact passing so quickly. I have a teenager who is sprouting like a weed and three more following closely in his footsteps. LIFE IS BUSY! It’s the kind of busy that is amazingly rewarding but also keeps you from stopping to smell the roses without purposeful steps.

Continue reading →

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.

Continue reading →

I’m not really one to write a huge, long birthday post every year for each of my kiddos. I hope that they know they are special and loved without that. In fact as they get older I imagine they won’t always appreciate having the details of their lives and birthday bashes splashed across my blog, accessible to the world. However, there are moments that I feel the celebration of their birth is really more about my unpacking where they’ve come from and where they are going.

Lanae is my third child. In so many ways she fits the mold of “birth order”. She’s a middle child! I can see that she sometimes feels forgotten, ignored, unimportant. She yearns to shine bright but I see the crushing of her little heart overshadowed by two big brothers and a baby sister. I know she’ll be fine. She’s resilient, beautiful, amazing, smart and host of other wonderful attributes. But she’s also my sweet, sweet little girl. I long to hold her close, protect her, tell her she will succeed, she is loved, she is worthwhile and know beyond a shadow of a doubt that she hears me and believes me from now until her last breath. But I see in her a niggling of doubt. A constant pain of uncertainty, insecurity, if you will. And I pray that she will overcome that.

You see she is the child I prayed I would get but never fully believed I would. I don’t mean that in a disrespectful way to those who have faced issues of infertility or who have lost a child. What I mean is that her arrival bestowed upon me the immense privilege of experiencing life with a daughter (and in fact, granted me the opportunity to experience it twice). After the arrival of our two boys I pondered what life might look like in a houseful of boys. My outlook shifted a bit as I tried to wrap my mind around that. When I first found out I was expecting our third, I had in my mind that this little one may be the completion of our family. James told me we would be finding out the gender because he knew he could survive three boys, but the possibility of four boys was more than he could fathom. More importantly, he needed me to wrap my head around what my life would look like long before the child arrived. He had no interest in a wife delivering a healthy, wonderful little boy only to be overcome with disappointment because he wasn’t a girl.

But, of course, God always knows the plan. I sometimes wonder if he doesn’t look at us with a minor smirk and say, “if only they’d just trust me, they’d know I already have it all figured out”. In this case, I’m sure He did. When we found out Lanae was on her way, it opened the door to possibility.

When I look at her now I see this stunning, little lady. I can’t imagine how different my life would have been without her. Sometimes I struggle to “get” her. She’s intense! She’s affectionate but standoffish. She knows what she wants but sometimes struggles to go after it. She’s so, SO precious.

My privilege in raising her is recognizing the ways she is herself. I can pinpoint exactly who she looks like, oddly a total “mini-me” of her Uncle Cam, James’ youngest brother. But I can’t pinpoint those obvious character traits that place her more in relation to my side or James’ side. However, I am reminded through that, that she is her own person. She’s exactly who God created her to be and while she may find along the way that she favours certain relations in her life, I think she’ll be a much happier, content individual when she settles into the fact that she is herself. Perfectly made for a purpose at this time in history, in this family, as Lanae Daelyn Davenport!

HAPPY 8TH BIRTHDAY SWEET CHILD. You are LOVED!!

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.

Continue reading →

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.

I had this great moment of realization and reassurance awhile back.

My oldest was asked to babysit for a friend. Her boys are at just the right age for his first experiences babysitting for someone other than his siblings all on his own. I was impressed to see how enthusiastic he was in this adventure and her boys were happy to have a “boy babysitter”! The thing is that I recognize how rare of an opportunity this is. No matter how much of a natural instinct boys have for caring for children it is always going to be the girls that will get a call to babysit first. I get it…when Sam and Jake were still young enough that they needed a sitter and the girls were just little I didn’t feel quite comfortable having another young man in the house to make sure they got into their jammies, tucked them in and give them a snuggle if they needed it. Somehow that worked okay for a young woman to take care of those things with my boys but not the other way around. Having said that I have met a few guys over the last few years that I may have reconsidered for and my experience as a momma of older boys has given me some perspective on that as well.

Continue reading →

growing couches

In Honour of my Birthgiver

Pushing Through…

Changing Landscapes

The Beginning of the End

Reflections

Resting

You are the Only One

Little woman

Finding my Place

When will it end?

Kids and Prayer