Saturday, December 11, 2010
I love weddings. I'm one of those freaks who watches wedding shows incessantly. Continually planning my wedding even though I am already married. I always say that I am planning for my vow renewal but who am I kidding I will get a second marriage before I get a vow renewal.
To me there is something magical about a wedding. That is my opinion now. When I was younger and very single I found weddings depressing and somber. I used to wear black, tolerate the hum-drum of the lovey dovey ceremony and pig out on food at the reception then leave before it became obvious I was dateless.
I guess now that I have been shown the magic of love is true and real and it can and did happen to me I have embraced the celebration of love.
Since I got married I feel like every wedding I attend I am stepping back in time to the day I wore my beautiful gown (which now sometimes doubles as a throw blanket) and started the adventure I am on. It makes me think about the first moment I saw him as I peaked the hill on my horse drawn wagon, holding his hand, the first kiss as husband and wife. All of that floods back.
The moment the officiant said "I now prounouce you" it was real. The freedom of capturing our happy moments in photos and knowing that it was only for an instant but our life was forever. Our first dance, looking into his eyes knowing this man was going to cherish me and not harm me. Waking up for the first time as a "Mrs." not as a "Miss".
I think it would be a lot truer and purer of a thought if I was to admit that maybe the dress and the flowers have nothing to do with my love for weddings. The truth lies in the fact that I am comforted by the knowledge that love is still real. That a mostly fairy tale concept in this world is still in existence and as we witness two people making commitments to each other for a life time something sacred happens. We get to see a glimpse of God in one of his finest moments.
To me there is something magical about a nervous face stained with tears bride and a gittery groom, coming before each other in love and total vulnerability to
each other opening themselves up to happiness but also opening up to pain, change and growth. Knowing that a love burns deep within that in the moments of frustration and anger their desire to be together will prevail. Sacrificing themselves as an independent person and dedicating themselves to the team.
Witnessing vows is full of hope. Its believing that when all the glamour and glitz is gone and all doors are shut and eyes turned away the look of longing that was
displayed before friends and family can still be found in each others eyes. Knowing that someone is there to give you strength and couage when you can not muster your own. Belieiving in and being believed in when there is no one else to do it. Having faith that this person will grow into a better person because of your love and the same for you personally. The faith and vulnerable hope that this commitment can never be broken and that you wont ever let that happen.
The knowledge that God made that love possible.
I love scouting out dress styles, invitations, flowers and centerpieces but in the end
it's more than that to me. Weddings are like God's little rainbows to me.
I've had it explained as a cycle of life, the dreaded lack of sleep we tend to experience as parents. Someone told me it is probably because of the electronic current flowing through our bedroom from the tv, the new energy efficient light bulbs, our electronically programmable heater, cell phones and whatever other gizmos we have that make life more accessible, easier, organized and better allowing us to be the best individual we can be. Or is it God trying to speak to me? I believe that God can and will wake us to speak to us or get our attention. That concept
is real to me. But I must say either God is trying
to show me something through my suffering (a mild case of the Job syndrome)
or he has the tendencies of a teenage couple, waking me just to tell me he loves me. I imagine by now most have curled their noses or felt slight offence cause I just equated God and his love to a teenage romance which might be slightly pretentious or maybe its the sleep in my eyes talking.
Whatever the cause of my mild mannered insomnia I am not a fan. I wish I could figure out the cause so I could find the solution. As beautiful as 4 & 5 are I believe deeply that I would love to experience the thrill of waking up to sunlight.
Please pray I get more sleep.
Friday, November 26, 2010
Wow! My greeting just gave me the willies. The thought that people are reading the words and thoughts that fall out of my head is rather odd. I write not for recognition but because it brings me joy and allows me a way to express my feelings and hash out some lingering thoughts that swirl in this head of mine.
I hear from people all the time that they are reading my blog and loving it. I took a slightly long break from blogging but I am back and I promise I will blog 2-8 times a week, always having something fresh and new for you to read. I was scolded by many and I have learned my lesson. I am sorry and thanks for the kick in the butt.
I would love to hear from you. I am open to discussion, thoughts and comments. Please disagree if you wish. I do not claim to be an expert, just an individual trying to make her way through life with God.
I hope to hear from you soon.
Children live in the moment. Their innocence takes away all sense of fear and insecurity. They flow with their surroundings and have absolutely no boundaries. That's why children have parents. We get to be the buzz kill that establishes "no" and "stop" in their life.
At 20 months I am starting to see the fruit of my labour when interacting with Ti. He stops mid play to give me nice hugs, the biting has become minimal and he loves to give sweet boogie kisses right on the lips. He is now responding to the idea that hugging mommy makes her smile, punching her in the head makes her cry.
Somewhere in my life I stopped being educated on how to be gentle and gentleness became a part of my nature. I learned the limitations that I can exist in without causing physical, emotional or mental harm to myself or another individual.
In scripture we read that as Christians we are given the Holy Spirit to live within us giving us guidance. A sign of living with the Spirit, according to God is the fruit we bear. Christian's who live daily in the Spirit don't have apples and oranges growing from their limbs but should exhibit the characteristics of God or the fruit of
"love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self control. "
I think as Christians we focus a lot on loving our neighbour, being filled with the joy of the Lord, being patient and having kind hearts. We try to do good and live our life with faith in God. But where we lack is being gentle and having self control. We fight, we put down, we push our way through knocking whomever out of our way. We think of ourselves and not of others. We open our mouths and spout nonsense without realizing how that affects someone else. We impress our ideas on others and reject their thoughts. We bully, we tear apart, we push away.
In raising my child I am in the first stage of gentleness training. I have to teach him how to conduct himself in a kind, gentle, compassionate way. Once he learns more words I will have to help him learn how to control those words and use them for love and productivity instead of harm and destruction. Then my next challenge will be guarding him from the lethal combination of hand & mouth. This task I fear and I will pray myself through.
As we go through our life do we focus on the trendy, appealing fruits that living a life for God produce, or do we mind that a healthy balance of all fruits be tended and cared for and present in our lives?
You may not walk your way through life pushing everyone to the ground, but do you slash their souls and wound their hearts with your tongue?
My son didn't know and sometimes still doesn't understand that hitting another person is not acceptable. But as I raise him and teach him he is learning that handing me a toy is much more productive than throwing it at me and hurting me. As we walk our journey may we look to God for correction. May we never believe the lie that we have arrived. May we allow Him to show us our flaws and may we try to change them.
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
My little guy.
I love the kid, he's a part of me but it is taking day upon day for me to understand who this little person is. I always assumed because he held a part of my DNA I would “get” him. Furthest from the truth. Every day we spend together is a new look at who he is as a person and a real examination into who I am.
Ti is heavily immersed in the art of imitation. He shocks us all the time with his new sayings or actions that he has picked up somewhere along his travels. Usually they are easily identifiable. He resembles someone we know.
I see a lot of me.
When he runs to the piano to “play” a song, or sits and draws a picture. When he unloads the cupboards and pretends to create some kind of eatable masterpiece it's like looking in the mirror. He drops words that I never thought those little ears would hear all the way from the kitchen and mimics the way I present myself or perform a task.
He always has to double check the dryer...
This morning after I put Ti down for his nap I went to one of my safe places. I sat in front of my piano and talked to God and played. I was singing a Tim Hughes song that I love and one of the lines popped out and became so real as the words passed my lips.
“Lord will you be my vision, will you be my guide, be my hope and light, be the way.”
As I belted those lyrics out the reflection of the sun on the roof came through the window so brightly that I couldn't see the keys in front of me. I pushed through and continued to sing,
“I will follow, I will follow you”
I stopped my song and got up from the piano. I walked to my computer and now I sit here hashing through what this means.
We are the light in our world. We are how many will see the face of God. But when they see His face will they recognize it? Will they see love, peace, joy, gentleness, kindness, faithfulness, patience, goodness? Or do they see inadequacy, hatred, malice, bitterness, hypocrisy, rudeness, self absorption and judgment?
When I sit back and watch my little guy and see the positive qualities I possess surface in his personality it makes me happy. I feel like I have done my job as his parent to prepare him for the world. But when I hear him utter the word “stupid” I suddenly see the imprint my human nature is making on his little life. He watches me, he drinks my every word and absorbs my every action. He reacts as I do, he focuses on me as I do or do not on him. My son looks to me in the way I should look to God.
Sometimes believing we are children of God gives us silent permission to ignore Him. I know sometimes God becomes my default and I use Him as my “get out of (fill in blank)” card. But looking at my earthly mother-son interaction I see the picture of what my relationship with God should be. We are told that we are made in His image but like with my son the example is learned based on the amount of time and moments engaged together. Just because I am made in His image doesn't mean I “get” Him. Many children exist in our world who hold DNA of a parent that will never be made known to them, they possess qualities of their biological donor but without the nurture sometimes those qualities dissolve and they never really understand who they are.
I need to focus on God and spend daily encounters understanding who He is. Peeling away the layers of religion and assumption and begin believing in the heart of God, taking my daily glimpse of who he is and examining who I really am.
My time with my son is precious. Each stage, each tantrum, all with perspective is good. Through these daily exchanges I am developing a life long bond that is held with unconditional love and grace. As I move forward in life I pray I am as attentive to God, allowing Him to be my hope, my light and my way, as I am to the person my son is becoming. If I live a life that is holy and pleasing, putting God first and being the light in this world that I need to be then when I look at my son and who He has become I will no longer see myself but I will see the face of God.
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
This year as the leaves began to turn and the air cooled my husband and I got starry eyed for the fair. I was only a 2 time attendee of the fair but my heart raced at the thought of fair food, rides and lots of cute animals.
Saturday, July 17, 2010
Thursday, July 15, 2010
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
For me food is comfort. I usually drift to sweets, mostly chocolate in a time of crisis but sometimes I just can't resist the fantasticness of the creamy potato, wrapped with love in sour cream, cheese, onions & bacon.
Growing up we used to have this dish as a treat but as I have grown I have re-vamped the smasher to beat Montana's restaurants version.
Boil the potatoes until the are cooked. The same as you would to mash. While they are cooking, fry or bake your bacon. Do not cook it too crispy because it has too cook in the potato mixture. If the bacon is overcooked you will have crunchy, burnt pieces in your potatoes instead of the amazing melting sensation of perfectly cooked bacon. When your potatoes are cooked and mashed add a dollop of butter, one tub of sour cream and a chopped onion to the mix. Stir it up really good!!! Grate enough cheese to ensure constipation for at least one full day. Add 3/4 of the cheese to the mix, and stir. Sprinkle the top of your mixture with your bacon, cut it up first... much better. Then top with the rest of your cheese. Stick it in the oven until the cheese melts on top. Take it out and consume.
This celebration of the potato makes a lovely meal with meatballs, grilled chicken, fish or all by itself.
Not only is it a quick fix for the blues but it is also a great dish to make family meals just a little different.
On my life journey I have discovered a power I hold. I know others who have held this sacred power before but I have never heard of the impact such as mine.
My power - baking Butter Tarts.
I have officially become the Tart Officer for my social group. I have people who want to poach tarts when they are not in season. That's just not cool with me.
I could hand out fines, or slap hands but I think I will let it go. I enjoy this power I have. I like watching men turn into children unable to control their desire for the tasty, runny, perfect consistency of the pastry that I have found the secret to creating.
I do not make these delectable treats on demand. I make them when the feeling hits. When the air has the right smell, when I feel the perfect balance of happy and crazy, when my taste buds scream indulgence and my brain steps up and says "too many calories".
One time when my husband asked me to bake my perfectly runny, but slightly jelled tart filling with the perfectly thick flaky pastry, I declined.
My response, "Butter Tart Season is Closed".
I'll give you the inside scoop. There is no season. The season is not a specific time of year, for a certain period of time. You can't buy tags, there is no draw you enter. It's when the feeling hits me.
So be patient. You never know when the season will open up again. It may be for a day, it may be for weeks on end. You will just have to wait for that feeling.
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Yesterday Ti-James turned 16 months old. I have never really understood the month by month counting of age but hey, I'm in 'cause I love birthdays!
We don't celebrate these milestones but I usually take some time to reflect on the growth and the change of my sweet little Ti-man.
16 months in and I don't know where it has gone. No matter where we have used up that time I am thankful that we have made it this far. I honestly never believed I would be able to care for a child and keep them alive this long. I am so under educated when it comes to parenting, children, babies, diapers, breast feeding, everything motherly.
I remember the moment they laid my new baby on my chest. I waited for tears to flow and that motherly instinct to come. I think I am still waiting. In that moment nothing happened. I actually remember looking at this gooey alien type baby thing that some Dr. I met literally 30 seconds before pulled out of my under business and I just wanted to scream "take it off of me" but I knew better.
Over a year has passed and I still have moments of detached feelings. I still fall into that thinking "who's child is this" but for the most part it has sunk in that he is mine. And honestly I wouldn't have it any other way.
Now he is fun. He can do stuff. He doesn't just puck on himself, drool and sit like a boneless blob. He walks, he runs, he talks, he sings, he enjoys music, he has favourite things. He knows when things smell bad, he knows when he has done something wrong, he feels emotion, he knows how to comfort and express his thoughts and feelings. He is finally human.
I suppose before he was 16 months he would have been categorized as human but now finally, he appears to me as one of us.
Some days I miss the tiny baby who curled up on my chest and slept. I miss the warmth of his tiny baby body on my skin. I miss the small puppy like chirps and squeaks. I miss setting him down in one spot and coming back to find him still there. Although part of me misses those moments that create sweet memories, I don't desire to go back there.
I love my rough, tough, rambunctious boy.
I love watching him run from one end of the house to the other.
I love hearing him singing to himself in the morning. Knowing that he is playing with his toys and entertaining himself.
I love watching his imagination work. I can't wait to hear of the adventures he goes on.
I like my toddler. As much as I miss that snuggly little babe, nothing can replace hearing "love you Momma".
Happy 16th month & 1 day Ti-James.
One cool dude. A hipster.
Rocking out to hip-hop, reggae, pop, heavy metal & country music.
Dancing is something he can get down with. He usually rocks out his bob and weave with occasional butt drop.
Veggie tales are a must, when he doesn't have a book to read.
Football, hockey are his games.
Most of all he loves to rock a head band in the back seat. Sparkle-y white, with complimentary red sun glasses. All of course to accentuate his Bieber hair style.
Life's not too hard at 16 months. He is just rocking what he likes, living the dream.
This is such a common phrase. Not really one I want to hear but one that has become the chant of my life.
I don't know why "stuff" has to happen but it does. Life. It is made up of the happenings of everyday, every week, month, year, all captured in one life to create a story to be passed on for generations.
Stories are a lot more fun to read than to create. Maybe that is a false statement but in the grand scheme of life as a story, I would say being the protagonist is fun maybe 42% of the time.
It seems like everyday there is a new challenge, new information, new battles. Sometimes we have breaks and live lush lives and others we fight our way to the next sun rise.
Right now I feel like I am being pelted with stuff. It's like paint balling. I find myself on this course. There are some clear cut paths ahead, some shelters, some places of safety but mostly what is in front of me is unknown. It's dark, it's uneven ground. I can feel eyes starring holes in my head, penetrating my brain. My problem is I can't place those eyes. I don't know where they are. As I walk through the brush and the trees, being extra cautious I wait in anticipation for something. What I don't know, but something. Then out of no where I am ambushed. Stuff appears from everywhere. Colourful balls of paint fly, making contact with my body, my face, splattering my mask so I can't see. I throw my arms up in surrender yelling at the top of my lungs "HIT! HIT!" My cries for mercy do me no good. The paint continues to fly. When all the ammo is gone and the enemy lets me get up off the ground I am resemblant of Joseph's Technicolor coat. Splats of green & pink, yellow & blue. An art piece.
Unfortunately in life that art piece is a representation of pain and suffering. The colours are betrayal, rejection, sadness, disappointment, uncertainty, insecurity and failure.
Why this happens. I guess it makes us stronger. It's just so hard sometimes. I am having one of those times right now. I feel like I am lying on the ground yelling "HIT!" and stuff keeps hitting me. I'm a rainbow of pain but it just doesn't stop.
That's life right now.
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
Life has been hectic lately. People I don't even know have told me how busy my life has been the last few months. How they know I am not too sure, probably nursing home gossip groups. I blame them for all the dirt, my Grandma always knows the biz.
Anyhoo... When things get tough I eat. It's totally my vice. I love food, it loves me so we spend time together.
Last night after a very hot, very crazy busy day we saddled up to the table to partake in some tasty nachos. They were delicious.
Here's how some lonely chips, tasty veggies, beef and spices became my dinner.
Brown 1lb of lean ground beef (or if it's a bad day medium ground beef, more grease)
1 onion chopped
1 clove of garlic, pressed
salt & pepper to your liking
While that browns and sizzles, fill a cookie tray with your favourite tortilla chips. On a good day I would use whole wheat, 50% less salted chips but last night we used Good Ol' Fashioned Restaurant style tortilla chips. So salty.
When the beef mixtures is brown spread it on top of the chips. Then chop tomatoes and green peppers to your likeness. No measurements. Whatever looks good. Sprinkle these ingredients on top.
Add green olives, black would be good as well.
Top with as much cheese as you would like. Experiment. Mix cheeses.
Throw it all in the oven for 10 minutes until the cheese is melted and then it's time to feel happy!
Consume this tasty dish with sour cream and the salsa of your choice. I like mild just because I don't enjoy heat.
And that's it. That is the tale of my dinner. It made me feel better. It was lovely and it inspired some family time. Bon appetit!
Monday, July 5, 2010
This has been a big week for the wee man. His first boating experience ever and then his first day out on the water with his family. That's a pretty big deal for a little man.
We were thrilled to find out this week that Ti loves boating. I think his favourite part was the driving but he did enjoy the ride as well.
Last week a good friend of ours took my husband and the Ti-man out on his boat. I wasn't there of course, I had to work. (I'm smiling inside.) Word on the street says that Ti-James had a wonderful boating experience and wanted to be in motion at all times. This news in not breaking nor shocking.
Yesterday we had a family fun-in-the-sun day. We spent our afternoon on the water with friends and family. This was the first time that my husband, myself and Ti had a whole afternoon of family time together, no work involved, both parents present. It was amazing!
My parents recently and by recently I mean, yesterday got a pontoon boat. The Ol' Party Barge. We climbed aboard and we cruised the wee lake, circling our own wake and enjoying the company of good people.
Ti-James climbed aboard sporting his over-sized life jacket, ready for the second voyage of his life. While standing the life jacket fit like a glove, but when Ti-James sat down he became Chubby Cheeks. Poor little guy, but he looked so cute. Using the ill fitting life jacket to his advantage, he was able to hit on pretty girls (married ones at that) and even managed to hold the hand of the lovely Irish gal on board.
Our ride came to an end and into the water we went. Ti-James in his floating ladybug and his daddy floated up to the aqua bar. It was a good day.
Later on in our day my parents boarded the boat for another lap of the lake. Ti-James saw his Nan and Papa cruise by and started yelling, "Papa, Papa". After that he was determined he was going to get out of the fairly cold water and spend the rest of his day on the boat. We passed him up to his Nan and off they went.
Mommy and Daddy had some time to relax.
Nan and Papa picked up Great Grandma & Grandpa and they all got to see a small circle of the lake because they let Ti drive.
Our fun-in-the-sun day came to an end at the lake. We all packed up and went to my parents for a generational BBQ. Great Grandma & Grandpa, Nan & Papa, Uncle B-Rad, my husband, myself and Ti had a traditional Fraser family BBQ, cold beans and all.
What a good day! Now I can't wait for the weekends.
Friday, July 2, 2010
I am having one of those days. You know the type of day I mean, right. One of those days, when someone asks the question, "how are you" and you respond with "oh, I am having one of those days." The universal statement for "not so great" without having to admit our perceived failure because we are tired, grumpy or completely disinterested in life at that moment.
So I am having one of those days.
I wonder why I am having one of those days and then I am rudely reminded by my aching thigh muscles and sore ankles from my ridiculously long walk my mouth inspired yesterday. Two women who love to talk shouldn't walk together. Enough said.
After sitting here in my retail location for far too long, experiencing early onset rigor mortis, I had to take a break. I had to get out. Everyone was telling me about this beautiful day we are having in Bancroft. Being an extremely selfish person, I didn't want to live this day through others, I wanted to experience it myself.
I went for a walk down the busy street. OH THE BEAUTY. Having to weave in and out of people. Hearing a buzz of voices and car noises. Seeing people crossing the street. The ding of shoppe bells opening and closing as I walked by.
The air felt light and free. The town was humming with life. Summer had officially arrived.
I say all of this with excitement and I know some think differently. Maybe it is because my lively-hood depends on the "out of towners" or tourists. My business comes from these people who do not set up residence in our little town but visit in the warm, cottage-y season.
Even though they don't live here, they help me live here.
I love the summers in our town. Granted the driving situation is a little hairy at times. Things get backed up pretty easily in these dainty streets. Lines grow longer, waiting tests our patiences. It's the time of year when knowing back and side streets is like having super human powers. It stretches us. It's nice to be stretched.
Walking down the street I chuckled to myself. The irony of the summer situation. The city comes to us and we want it to go away but when Bancroft becomes sleepy the rest of the year we want to hit the city. Something in that concept made me shake my head, and I believe I physically shook my head while walking down the street.
All I have to say as a retail owner, and someone who has worked in the customer service industry, please appreciate the tourists. Let's welcome them. That doesn't mean we have to deal with the rudeness and the inflated sense of entitlement that drives in on a Friday afternoon. With the good there is always the bad.
Let's embrace the busy months of summer. If they drive you that crazy find a lake front or a beach and park yourself there. Enjoy the beauty of your area and hide from the busy streets. Just remember, the business that pulls in Friday and leaves Sunday helps this town immensely.
Not sure what happened to the font but I can't change the size. Size of font has nothing to do with tone or expression, just my inability to use blogger.
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Life is really busy! Sadly too busy that I can't even sit and jot down a few thoughts. We are closing our store which is a tonne of work. It's summer and I am trying to enjoy the sunshine and happiness that comes with it. We are opening our satellite store at a local camp the end of this week. Somewhere I have a child that is probably sporting some kind of jingly, dangle necklace and a head band to accent his diaper. My husband had a heart attack and I need to take care of him to ensure that I am doing all I can to give him a happy, stress free life. That takes a lot out of a person. Not the husband thing, just the busy-ness of life in general.
My body is craving sleep. Usually I am a 9pm to bed, 6:30am to rise type girl. I take pride in that. It's the farm girl in me. Trust me that is as far as the farm runs in me. Ask the hungry chickens, they will tell you. Now I am scrubbing drool off the couch because I nap during the day (this is new for me) and I am in bed whenever and up whenever. I need routine when it comes to my sleep.
Secretly, this post is an apology. That sounds proud, but I am apologizing to myself, as well as the neglected blog. Sorry I didn't give you Gravol. I need to take time for me and you. That is a huge confession. Even though I am built like an ox, it doesn't mean I have the stamina. I need to take a break. I need to de-stress and indulge in the things I enjoy. For me writing is a huge release for my mind and my soul.
I am sorry I abandoned you in a time when I should have embraced you. In the moments when I really needed you I turned my back. I caused you pain, I made you appear weak and you are only a reflection of who I am. It's not your fault. Get out of the back seat, put the baggie down and lets cruise together, front seat style. I hope I don't break your heart or my promise again.
Thursday, June 24, 2010
One very early morning my son woke up. Of course he woke everyone in the house up with his screams and noises. To make a really long, painful experience short, I ended up taking my son down to the play room to run off some of the energy he had stored up and felt the need to burn off around 2:30am. Being totally exhausted and half hearted about my parenting I came to a point where I didn't care if my son slept, ran outside with the wolves or was in a different country. I just wanted to go back to sleep. Not knowing what to do I grabbed a blanket off the couch and threw it over his head. A desperate move but a brilliant one. As soon as the soft butter like blanket made contact with my sons head he stopped. Frozen. He sat there on the couch completely still, making no noise. I of course was unsure of what was happening. My son had just been climbing, running, crazy all over the place screaming and now he just sat there. Of course I milked the moment as long as possible and then slowly pulled the blanket off his head. Sitting there completely motionless was Ti-J. He had a huge smile on his face and was starring at the ground. Still not moving. I proclaimed the magic word of BOO and he swung his head up and began to laugh. That sweet from the gut laugh.
After that moment he snuggled in and was off to sleep. I don't want to brag but I think I have discovered a new form of parenting. My book will be released this fall entitled "How to Stop the Screaming, Throw Something On It, 10 Steps to Calming and Quieting Your Child Using Household Decor". I think I'm on to something.
The next morning as Ti was playing I made a horrifying discovery. Earlier that day in my attempt to attain peace and quiet I had created a new game. A loved game. Running frantically around the room screaming at the top of his lungs, my son ran to the couch and grabbed the blanket. He put it on his head and went silent.
Not only did I discover this new, really annoying game, but I discovered my son's animal characteristic, he is a parakeet. The lights go out and he goes silent. So now instead of enjoying snuggly time in my blanket I spend hours a day throwing it over my son's head and pulling it off with a "BOO!" It could be worse I guess, and if he is really annoying me I just leave the blanket on his head a little longer than normal. I only have a little longer before he figures out mommy's little trick!
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
Bare with me. Good things are to come, it's just not in my timing.
Friday, June 18, 2010
I am in a state of peace right now. God given of course. It's the wee hours of the morning, I'm in a strange city, my child is miles and miles away. My husband and i don't even attempt to share a bed in this hotel room. Thank you Jesus for seperate beds.
Across the room he sleeps. Across the room from him I update my blog via the all glorious iPhone.
I don't really know where to begin. It seems like I have been caught up in a whirlwind of fear, anxiety, desperation, existing, sleeplessness and exhaustion. All nicely garnished with sprinkles of joy, laughter, love, glimmers of hope and an abundance of prayer.
If I can update you on my life and only have one statement to do so I say this. Prayer works. And ps, I have learned in times of trial and uncertainty people of all mind sets and faiths feel an inate nudge to lift you up to a higher being. I just take that in and process it as God. I justify that by saying God is all knowing and a prayer can be a thought, so whether that someone knows it or not God has heard my cry.
Things are complicated and I feel as though my heap of mess keeps growing. Very similarily to the laundry pile although this heap is not managable by me. I can't throw everything in a machine, flick some dials and have the pain and tears come out in the wash.
Never did I imagine that at age 24 would I be sitting at my husband's bedside hearing the news I did this week. Becoming that woman who
sits in waiting rooms, waiting to hear from doctors, searching nurses faces for hope and trusting tests for answers.
Today was a good day. We found out positive results about Jim. Nothing etched answers in stone but our minds have been relieved slightly.
A rude awakening is what I will call this. Reality check.
Life has been in shambles and I feel as though I stumble around gathering pieces trying to fix it...
Always trying to fix it.
I don't know why I do that because as this week showed I don't need to worry about those pieces. If they are necessary they will be put back in place.
So much is still uncertain. Many burdens I still bare. I lay here enjoying not sleeping because time seems to move a lit slower when concious. When everything is said and done here tomorrow I will pack up and head home and all those problems will meet me at the door. I dread it but it's part of life.
Some things seem insignificant now. All that matters is I have my husband and my child has his father. Others are still mountains but thankfully I have Jim to walk through those with me.
We will figure this out. One step at a time. One faithful step at a time.
None of this truly makes sense. Not much in life does. The victories get lost and despair takes center stage and nothing could be more depressing. I know that if I search I will find you in everything. There is always a glimmer. Somewhere I will always see your face. It is having the patience and fight to look. When it feels like all I do is exist that makes it even harder but I have seen this week sometimes the fight needs to be spurred on by love, family, and friends. After finding out good news it's easy to say thank you but I think even if it had been negative I would still say thanks. I've been thinking about that. I've seen your face more the last couple of days than i have in a while.
That's break through for some of the other stuff we have been facing. Life doesn't seem at a stand still as much. So thanks. Thanks for bringing Jim through and let's get him healthy again. Me too. My little guy needs his parents. Thanks for friends who have showed us they
care, people who have reached out in compassion, family who have rearranged life to help, the blessing of finance and all those little things that maybe I have missed but have happened souly because of you. Thanks
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
On Friday of this week a large group of people will meet on the boundary of the snowmobile tracks and the yard of the youth drop in center in Bancroft.
Hope to see you there!
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
For me I get caught up in the romantic, fairy tale side of this persona.
She's dating him and he's dating her and they were spotted together here.
The rush that comes from this whirlwind fantasy is far more than I can ever imagine. It's like watching romances play out on the big screen. My heart skips a beat watching boy and girl fall in love, and seeing how passionate they are for one another. How they can't even breathe with out each other.
We see this everyday. This devastation lives in the eyes of the divorced, the betrayed and the abandoned.
A few weeks ago I was listening to the song "How He Loves" sung by The David Crowder Band. I felt so connected to everything loving as I listened. It took me on a journey of thought. I imagined God as that really nice guy in your life. The one who is always there, never pushy, always inspiring and helpful. You call him friend and would never think of being anything more because he is such a nice guy. Then one day you see him and something inside switches. He is a little more handsome, goosebumps appear and you get that sick, on a boat feeling in your gut. Never before have you felt it but now you do.
This is more like my story.
This probably sounds weird but bare with me. He is always there, he is always faithful. Looking out for what is best for you not because it makes him the hero but because he truly cares for you. He seems to always know what to do. He never tries to push you into things you don't want to do but in the end his way is best.
As I pictured God as this boy I started to put the pieces together. God's desired romance with us will never make the cover of US or OK!. He is too genuine. Yet his relationship with us will be more scandalous, more exciting and something the world should want to be a part of. It should be on every gossip chain.
That's God. He has allowed us free will. We have the ability to chose what we want. The world is our oyster. Even though we have this freedom our decisions are not always the best for us.
He calls us his love and we should call him our first love and we don't. (When I say we, I mean me but I just don't want to feel the guilt).
He is always there, always faithful, his way is the best not because he is the hero but because he truly loves you. Me. He never pushes his love on but in that moment when you recognize him, as God, almighty and he gives you those goosebumps life will change. He is there willing to reciprocate.
That sounds really flowery. Flowers are beautiful and misunderstood. So I guess God can easily be compared.
Now to finish the love story and to get to the "happily ever after."
The boy, the friend, the love story that has been created. All is nice and fine but trouble brews. Temptation comes, conflict happens, goosebumps leave, butterflies end up in car grills. Running seems like the option but it isn't. Running away isn't anyways, running to for me seems like the best option. Coming together, working through these times and becoming strong together.
God wants that too. Our person to person relationships are reflections of what we are to have with God. God just seems more daunting. He's all knowing, he's everywhere, he controls lightening. Maybe running is the best option. Even though we think this way God is longing for us to turn and run into his arms. He wants us to curl up on his lap and he will sing us to sleep.
How he loves... Oh how he loves.
I think I am in trouble.
Sunday, May 30, 2010
Friday, May 28, 2010
Thursday, May 27, 2010