The Farm

Thoughts from Friday October 30, 2020

My spirit is overflowing this quiet evening.  Beautiful, deep, powerful, spilling over so that I can hardly even put words to it all.

Time has traveled full circle and I didn't notice until today.  The way loss has threaded through the last fifty years is so vivid in my mind's eye.  Memories in rapid succession are replaying.

We went to the farm today, Dad and my sister Charmaine and I.  The farm signifies the beginning of a family and it was also the ending of another.  This beautiful acreage of land housed  the height and depth of life.

Just miles away is that time-frozen intersection where I lost my mother in what I will always refer to as a tragedy.  In an instant my father wore the label of widower of three small children.

In a city, some 60 minutes away a devastated widow with a toddler and baby was already six weeks into grieving the sudden loss of her husband.

Four months later the farm saw the beginning of a new family; two families blending together, desiring to write another story.

Five years later, the joyous arrival of a sixth child, wove us together in fresh and healing ways. 

The farm was eventually sold many years later and over time our blended family has changed and grown giving each of us opportunities to write our own unique stories.

Today also marked nine months since Mom died.  It has been days and weeks and months of grief work and the ensuing adjusting to how our family looks now.  I still don't know how it all looks. This full circle of time began to encircle me.

The three of us journeyed here today desiring to salvage some of our "days gone by" and recreate tangible memories for the future.  The landscape is entirely different.  The house, barn, garage and property have not been cared for far too long, leaving it in a saddened run-down state.  But we knew this and were prepared.  And so with crowbars and hammers, a drill and muscles, we came away with some of that which framed our growing up years.  There were two workhorses in the group and I was NOT one of them!! haha

I'm not sure that we spoke a formal farewell.  It felt natural to drive down the lane way with our treasures and a heap of reminiscing that accompanied their gathering. The days of our beloved farm are part of the present only in our reflecting.  The physical place that was our rural home for 20 plus years is not how we left it. What we do have left are millions of moments which have marked us and shaped is into the people we are today.  The farm will forever be a part of who I am. 

Santuary

Soon after we arrived, I began referring to this place of wonder as "sanctuary."

 

 

Our friends were gifted a home numerous years ago.  They steward their "Gift House", renting it to family and close friends.  It's housed on 26 acres of land, primarily forest, and in this season of autumn, it's a magical wonderland.

By definition, sanctuary means a place of refuge or safety, a nature reserve, a holy place, to name a few.  Whether within the walls or out of doors, I was in "sanctuary."  I had needed this refuge, the stillness, the respite.  I was unplugged from the world and drinking in the bliss of ignorance.  I believe this is okay at times, and for me it's necessary and life-giving.  I was Covid-weary and feeling worn down by a steady stream of "life.  Sometimes when I go away, the fatigue in my spirit lingers.  Not so this time.  By our first evening, the cloak had lifted, and I began to embrace the freedom.  

I had given myself permission for the easing of routines in ways I rarely allow.  I did not open my Bible the entire time we were there.  Did I just say that out loud??!!!  My prayer list too, was set aside and I instead prayed over what was brought to mind. Every so often my disciplines seem to need a reset and this particular week called me to this.   

I sat with God in a welcoming, sturdy rocking chair, walked with Him through the falling leaves and was in awe of the myriad of ways He spoke to me.  I gained a new and much need perspective and was reminded that my life story does not stand on its own, but is tied to His story.  Both are redemptive.  I became aware of ways in which loss and gain are tied together.  I was surprised and grateful for the hidden places He exposed in me--it meant He desired to heal yet another walled off edge.  I experienced the beautiful reworking of what wholeness can look like.  Though so much is out of my control, God revealed in fresh ways, the choices within my realm of control and this was strengthening.

We are home now, a week already.  It's been up and down as I have adjusted to the routines of life and also take part in the stories unfolding in the present.  I have always bemoaned how quickly the everyday overtakes a stretch of quiet filling.  This time, I think I was more accepting and realistic upon re-entry.  There are places in my home which are "sanctuary" and I am being careful to spend time there.  Ultimately, God is my sanctuary, a place of refuge, safety and wonder--wherever I am.

The Story I'll Tell

I messaged a friend the other day, reminding us both of life in our early 20's when the days were carefree and simple.  Sitting on our dormitory beds eating chips, chocolate bars and Diet Coke(balance) was a favorite pastime and our greatest stressors were a paper due the following day or a test we might not have studied enough for.  Thirty plus years later we're in the midst of the season of aging parents and the heartache and difficult complexities of disease and decline and the dying of our loved ones.

I live in an 11 story condo with another aging family.  The culture here is warm and familial and I have varying degrees of awareness of the sadness many are facing.

Living in this pandemic world has heightened the challenges and issued forth fresh, never-before-imagined pain.

It's been six months since I've seen my mother-in-law in her Long Term Care home.  Six months!  She lives in a beautiful family environment, is lovingly cared for by her staff family, and is relatively content in her private, dementia-lived world.  I'm grateful.  But I still haven't seen her.  At times I feel cut off, almost grieving her loss before she's gone.  Because in some ways, she is gone.

My father-in-law is fading, virtually week by week.  He has not seen his beloved of 67 years for six months either.  It doesn't matter that she does not know him, that the relationship they once shared is non-existent, she is still his wife and "for better or worse, in sickness and in health" is etched on his heart.  Some days I'm angry--angry because a seeming life sentence has been imposed on him--to die of a broken heart.

My friend/neighbor's husband was transferred from one hospital to another, now on a crisis list for a bed in Long Term Care.  She was informed she can only visit him once a week for one hour, by appointment only.  They have been married 61 years and though he is not the man she married, she loves him.  He understands very little of what's unfolding, but her face brings light to his own, and his anxiety calms and rest comes easily.  For one hour.

My friend/walking partner's husband died Monday night after years of untold suffering.  She cared for him for almost six and a half years, while the past nine months have been in long term care.   Two of her children live outside of Canada and while they could come, it is doubtful that one of them could return to her country for months.  And so she makes the best of the circumstances.  She's become efficient at this.  

Aging and disease, death and grief all seems to have been relegated to this sanitized, achingly, lonely realm.  We're all doing our best to abide by the rules and offer our polite,
Yes, I understand."  But some days, I want to throw a temper tantrum, stomp my feet and scream--"THIS IS NOT OKAY!!"  

We need to hug our loves til our arms ache, hold lonely hands and kiss the cascading tears.  Because it's just so heart stopping-cruel to be locked in--or out.

Yet this is our now.  I do understand this.  And, I don't like it.

The Apostle Paul in the book of Romans is speaking my words and echoing my spirit at present.  He talks about creation and we, the created beings, in a state of groaning. Yes, oh yes we are!! It's a groaning which expresses a frustrated yearning for God's deliverance from life's hardship and oppression.  Mmmm...yes, ohhhh yes.  It's not ours today and so we wait.  "Eager hope" and "perseverance" are the words Paul uses to describe how we should wait.  I'm not always stellar at this kind of waiting.  But God is patient as I fumble along the way. 

Naomi Raine expresses in a stunning, powerful way this "now and not yet" hard, painful way of living and the story I will tell.  

One day.

Thoughts on Grief

Grief--deep sorrow or mental distress caused by loss, remorse, affliction, etc. 

Funk & Wagnall's Standard College Dictionary

Grief and it's many facets has been on my mind and flowing through my spirit these days.  There is a sense that some of the disbelief of Mom's passing, is beginning to be felt as reality.  Whether disbelief or reality, so many questions, pondering and emotions come and go. In addition, the overlapping loss of my birth mother continues to weave its way into the here and now.  Further, grief also stems from various types of losses which means that my forthcoming thoughts are a patchwork of sorts in my personal world of grief.

It strikes me how the dictionary definition of grief gives so very little space to this life altering experience.  As if a select group of words could define the experience of grieving!

I have noticed both in the past and present, the endless in-working and outworking of grief, within others and within myself.  Though many have penned powerful words to give voice to such pain, it is doubtful these depictions are wholly true for everyone.

Some of my personal thoughts on grief

Grief is lonely and desiring to be alone and also wanting people to be near, but not too many and only at "the right time".  There is a "wrong time", though I'm not sure when that is until it's upon me.

Grief is wanting someone to understand and knowing they can't possibly except that here and there someone reaches in and feels my pain.

Grief is like feeling nervous or afraid...this churning within, though I am not afraid, or maybe I am because this experience is like a foreign invader crashing through my perimeter of safety.

Grief is having reminders of her throughout my home and finding comfort and peace and then realizing I want more because what I have is not enough.

Grief is coming across a note or recipe with her handwriting and missing her touches all over again.  How could her handwriting always be to perfection????

Grief is questions and regrets and memories I struggle to make peace with over and over and over again.

Grief is wondering if I could have done something differently and of course I could have, but I didn't because life is lived forward and not in reverse.

Grief is sobbing and weeping and crying and being teary-eyes and getting choked up and it's also silence, and dry eyes and pining and a broken heart.

Grief is leaving, going away and staying away for however long,  to find your own way, hopefully, and grief is staying and finding your way here with others.

Grief is anger and despair and depression and agony and it's acceptance and calm and comfort.

Grief is being tired of the sadness but wanting it all the same because it keeps her alive.

Grief is choosing some days to pretend as though life is normal and choosing others days to leave the wound open and raw.

Grief is my mind full and racing with no direction and it is orderly and methodical and reasonable.

Grief is exhaustion and the welcome reprieve of sleep and it is the insomnia of thoughts not ready yet to lie down.

Grief is the blanket of God's comfort and the starkness of His absence.

Grief is knowing, without a doubt, that God's ways are good and still questioning His wisdom in the midnight hours.

Grief is running down memory lane to find you and thinking, "if only there had been another way."

Grief is being unsure which mother I am missing today and being okay with this.

Grief is baggage; awkward, heavy, frustrating baggage which complicates my grief and spirals me into victim mode and self-pity and angst.  And every so often grief feels pure and I wish it could always be so.

Grief is the recurring shock of her absence and it is the lingering, silky presence of her absence.  

Grief is desperately wanting to skip over all the "firsts" and yet never wanting to miss out on the "rich" pain of any of them.

Grief is finding ways to remember while simultaneously letting go.

Grief is wanting the freedom to sob gut-wrenching sobs and yet stifling them because it's too hard on others and then being angry because why do we have to live behind a veil of oceanic grief?

Grief is being unable to sob and wondering why why the anchor in the depths of my being won't release.

Grief is horrible and it's beautiful.

Grief is living in the past and the present and trying to find the road map forward.

Grief is when loved ones find beautiful ways to remember and grieve together.

 

 

A "Shield" of Suffering

Many of us have some aspect of our lives which keeps us on our knees.  If at present, this is not part of your story, one day it will.  It comes with living in a fallen world.  I don't like it.  You don't have to like it.  But it doesn't change the reality.

I am rereading Timothy Keller's book on "Prayer--Experiencing Awe and Intimacy with God."  There's a two-fold reason for re-entering its pages--

It's simply that rich

I long to grow in prayer

The story is told of Anicia Faltonia Proba who lived during the time of Augustine.  Anicia had the honor of knowing him personally.  He wrote two letters to her and one was written entirely on prayer.  Timothy shares this--

"Anicia Proba was a widow by her early thirties and was present when Rome was sacked in 410.  She had to flee for her life to Africa with her granddaughter Demetrias, where they met Augustine.  Her former life had been upended, and from what we know about her from the historical record, she never again enjoyed the secure life she had previously known.  Augustine, however, argues not only that we can grow in prayer in spite of these difficulties but because of them.  He concludes the letter by asking his friend, 'Now what makes this work (of prayer) specially suitable to widows but their bereaved and desolate condition?'  Should a widow not, he asked, 'commit her widowhood, so to speak, to her God as her shield in continual and most fervent prayer?'  What a remarkable statement.  Her sufferings were her 'shield'--they defended her from the illusions of self-sufficiency and blindness that harden the heart, and they opened the way for the rich, passionate prayer life that could bring peace in any circumstance.  He calls her to embrace her situation and learn to pray."

My sufferings a shield?

Your sufferings a shield?

Note that nothing is being said to infer that God causes our pain or wants us to bear pain.  Even Christ on the cross begged the Father for another way!!  However, for Anicia, and countless others, hardship came into her life and in various ways continued to plague her.  Augustine encouraged her to view this life of difficulty and sorrow as a "shield".

I think of my own life and its dips and turns and hills and valleys of my mental and emotional health.  I've ranged anywhere from cursing the darkness to believing the dark yields gifts of grace.
I have ever been aware that that the darkest night will bring me to my knees in ways that the light of day never can.

So while reflecting on my own edges of suffering as a shield of defense is not a new concept, it is a fresh and inspiring "hand on my shoulder".  And I always welcome this.

Let me be honest--I don't like pain and suffering.  I love the sunshine and rose of life.  I enjoy and desire ease and happiness as much as anyone else.

But.

If hardship brings me to the end of myself...

If it makes me abandon any illusions of self-sufficiency...

If it reminds me that I am merely a vapor of humanity in a redemption story beyond my comprehension...

Then I will humbly open shaky hands and claim suffering as a "shield" of defense.

Because I love my Lord.

The time between

Saturday March 14, 2020.  It was not on my radar to think that this would be the last time I would snuggle my precious grandson for three months.  I remember arriving at my sister's place to celebrate Mom's birthday and some of my family greeted us at the door wearing masks.  We all thought it was hilarious, never imagining what was just around the corner.  

Seaton was just a little over three months at that time and his happy place was snuggling in the arms of anyone who would rock him.  Those elongated "moments" were my happy place as well and I just drank in this warm little body burrowed into mine.

 

Then lock-down and three months of not having my grandson in my arms.  In all honesty, the ensuing weeks were less heart wrenching than I would have expected.  Yes, at times I cried and ached to feel his body against mine, but this was not the norm.  We were graciously indulged with pictures/videos daily and even enjoyed some lovely physically distant walks in Cam and Sonya's neighborhood.  I had this illusion that I wasn't missing anything.  I was still "watching" Seaton find his hands, learn how to hold a toy and reach for his Daddy's cereal and dump it.  I saw him roll over and get strong enough to sit on his own.  I listened to his sheer delight in sitting outside in the grass and become ever more observant at the world around him.  I wasn't missing anything--or so I thought.

Until the first time I held him and he no longer wanted to snuggle but for me to help him stand on my lap as he reached for my face.  He was much stronger and more unpredictable in his movements than previous  It caught me completely by surprise.  This was not the same baby!  While I was enjoying pictures and replaying videos on a screen, my grandson was growing and changing in real time and I had missed it!!  Brian and I took him for a walk that same day and I cried the first 15 minutes.  At the time I was unable to articulate why--only that "this" first tangible encounter was not what I had expected.

That was over a month ago now.  It has felt like I am getting to know my grandson all over again.  I have had to learn the best ways to hold him so that my back/hip are still able to move when I get home; he weighs quite a bit more!   He's been teaching me what peaks his interest and gets him excited and lets me know when he's bored of this and we need to move on to something fresh.  Every time I see him there is something new he has mastered and I receive such joy being a part of these moments.  I refer to it as "Nana therapy":)

Seaton Tadeo was six months old on July 5!  He's a little man who is eager to walk if only his wobbly legs would carry him.  For now he either stands holding on to something(with other hands at the ready) or he relies on whoever is willing to hold his little hands so he can slowly move across the floor.  I recall a phrase that goes something like this...."If I had known having grandchildren was this much fun I would have had them first!!"  haha  

Such a gracious gift of God.  I love him to pieces!!

80 Years Young

The birthday boy with his new boat!

This is my dear Dad.  It's often how I write my texts to him..."Hi my dear Dad..."  He is turning 80 years young on Tuesday July 14.  My Dad does not live his age!  He leads a far busier and active lifestyle than I do and that is not a stretch at all.  It does have something to do with him being an extrovert and myself leaning more on the introverted side but even with personality types aside, he is an extremely active man.  (Although he is a lover of naps and can doze off most anywhere.  haha).  He claims no aches and pains and enjoys strong, physical health.  Just in case you have somehow missed it in the pictures, Dad is also an avid fisherman.  In the winter it's ice fishing and in the summer it's lake fishing. 

My Dad loves God and he loves people and his life exemplifies this in spades.  He lives a life of earnest faith, and excessive love and generosity.  He is a man who freely shares his thoughts and emotions and in doing so his strength is revealed.  Dad has now lost two wives and though his heart aches, he presses on.  Dad lives life to the full.  He is all in in whatever he is doing!

Given the various guidelines and restrictions within our current reality, we as a family needed to be creative in planning a celebration.  So yesterday afternoon, we held a Drive-by Celebration at the end of the lane way at my brother and sister-in-law's home.  We could not have custom ordered a more comfortable day weather wise.  With great delight we watched cars line up and drive-by, stopping for a minute or 2 to give their love and blessings.  Friends and family took time to come and "love on my Dad" and it warmed my heart.

The last time people collectively gathered to express their love was this past February when we celebrated Mom's life and mourned her death.  Dad's birthday celebration gave all of us an opportunity to love on Dad and celebrate the life he continues to live.  Mom's absence was present in many "Mom" kind of ways. I know Dad had some tears as we began the day.  He would have loved to have her here to celebrate this milestone.

Dad, I love and admire you so much.  Happy 80 years of living life!! xoxo

Hesed--the perfect bubble

A number of years ago, my Spiritual Director introduced me to the Hebrew word Hesed.  In brief, it refers to the unfailing love of God...His lovingkindess.  Or said another way, His covenantal faithfulness.  She so passionately expressed the beauty and richness of Hesed that it has been transformative for me.  Ingrid has stated such truths as –

God does everything by covenantal faithfulness

His love is not a stingy Hesed

 (a truth highlighted in Psalm 85:10 “Unfailing love and truth have met together. 

Righteousness and peace have kissed.”)

I took it upon myself one day to note each of the times God’s unfailing love was mentioned in the Psalms.  I underlined and drew a heart to mark this.  I counted 127 times in the Psalms alone!  Indeed, God’s love is anything but stingy!

Psalm 32:10 has been as a warm blanket for me both in the past and increasingly in the present.  The latter part of this verse reads, “…unfailing love surrounds those who trust the Lord.”  Ingrid has so powerfully captured this verse with a stunning reality--“Hesed in the bubble in which we live.”

As of late the "talk of the town" is about who is in your bubble.   Stage 2 as directed by our government has now allowed each of us to be part of a bubble of 10.  Though it may sound simple, and perhaps for some, it remains this way, it’s not for me.  For myself, and the majority of people I talk with, creating and living within that bubble is complicated.  My therapist has aptly said, “There are no rules right now.”  The government has strongly recommended guidelines but black and white rules are few. 

The problem--

Some of us are stringent rule keepers and feel guilty “breaking” them

Some live with an expansive freedom and wonder why so many are anxious

Some have high risk factors and have made difficult choices to keep their bubble small

Some would like to have a family member in their bubble but for many reasons it wouldn’t “work” or it’s not safe.

One woman I know works in health care and continues to live in a bubble of one, distanced from those she loves.

And the list would be never-ending if I continued further.  It’s complicated. 

This “no rules time” is especially hard for someone like me who often lives under the illusion that control, perfection and order are in my grasp.  Beyond myself, I can’t steer anyone else to abide by my comfort level.  Nor should I!!!

Which is where Hesed comes in and this stunning realization that “Hesed is the bubble in which I live”!

This is what the Hesed bubble looks like--

Each new morning, I am awakened in His unfailing love and fall asleep wrapped in the same

The parameters of Hesed are set in stone.

His covenant is irrevocable to me, His daughter

The boundary line of sovereignty is eternal.

All the security I could possibly need is contained in the unfailing love of God

It does not help for me to pretend or deny that I am living a strange existence where relationships are slotted into bubbles or distancing.  I make space for the challenges, painful decisions and ensuing ramifications of the present.  But there is also a spiritual realm so other-worldly which can make this earthly struggle pale in comparison—if I choose to live in the Hesed of God. 

For the foreseeable future, the core way in which I live out life is going to be s t r e t c h e d.  Ingrid would urge me to see this as a "grace of God."  It's a grace of God that my "kingdom" of control and order is in  crisis.  That I am feeling this churning within is actually a good and yes necessary storm.  God longs for me to be free but freedom only comes from surrendering that which I hold on to with an iron grip.   

So I move forward with open hands, trusting Him to take hold and lead me.

Happy 25th Birthday My Girl!!!

My Ashley....I love you to the moon and back!

I'm not sure how this happened and yes I realize that EVERY parent has voiced these words and yet I suppose it is a result of the "tides" of parenting.  Most days the tide is out and the water "relatively" calm as your child goes through that process known as growing up.  One day blends into the next and while you notice changes, there is a level of normalcy to it.  Babies grow into toddlers and toddlers into preschoolers and preschoolers into public school, etc. 

But then one day, seemingly out of the blue, a milestone comes along and the tide comes in and crashes over you, leaving you sopping wet and thoroughly gob-smacked!!  You allow the water to settle and absorb the shock while you methodically do the math that if I am 55, it is highly probable that I have a daughter who is 25.  (especially given my son is going on 28!) You flip through the movie reel of her life, remembering the OB calling out, "It's a girl!" and all the ensuing chapters of friends and school and first job and leaving the nest and boyfriends, and trekking cross country.  You pause at "moments" which were painful, joyous, exciting, confusing and know that nothing in life is ever wasted.  Nothing. 

And you give thanks.  Deep, heart-wrapped, joyous, blessed thankfulness for this beautiful young woman who graced your life 25 years ago today.

Her Last Six Days

I wrote the following several weeks ago--

"I sat in Mom's chair yesterday.  Dad is gone on a fishing trip and so I am stopping in every other day to pick up mail and check on plants, etc.  I wonder if I'm having a taste of what it's like for my Dad to be there when she is not.  I'm aware of how loud the quiet is, how still it all feels without her.  And yet how very present she is to me.

From the vantage point of her chair it struck me!  This was her view the last six days of her life.  What I could see with my own eyes was all that remained of her world.  This beautiful home which she and Dad had created less than a year previous was her only landscape. The kitchen and living area, dining, the entrance, all staring back at her.
What was it like to watch this realm called earth fade from view?
Did turquoise pale in comparison to those early days of decorating excitement?

Did she close her eyes only to rest or to block out earthly things and allow heaven's beauty to come into view?
What did it feel like to no longer desire the smorgasbord of foods she once loved?
How does does one let go of all that once made life joyous, except that life's truest bliss was still to come?
Did she relive her life as on a screen, one episode at a time, until her season's finale was in view?
Did she have regrets or did Jesus simply take them from her hands so He could hold hers instead?
Did she know how much, oh yes, deep down, I think she knew how overwhelmingly she was loved!!  So many of us made precious space to tell her in her latter days.
Did she finally take it all in?

Did she know that Thursday that she was not leaving home but going home?
Did she say goodbye to my Dad that afternoon with a bright smile and "I love you" because this was the remembrance she wanted for him?
What vision did Jesus give her at 5 pm that afternoon?
What image or beckoning did He extend to make the final passage turn from dark to light?
What was it like to have life slow one breath at a time until there was no more?
Until new life and new breath and the light of the Son brought all things into focus.
How seeing in a glass dimly became face to face,
the knowing gloriously complete.