Humble Gratitude

She has arrived!!!  Nika Lissette came into this world safe and healthy on Sunday March 13 at 1:41 am.  She was born at home, weighing in at 7lb 5oz.  She shares her birthday with her late Great Nana Dot who went to be with Jesus just over two years ago.

Grandad with a happy big brother Seaton and Nika

Nana in bliss

Humble gratitude for this precious gift of life to our family

  

 

Time

"There will never be enough time 

if we think of it as a commodity to consume

 rather than a gift to enjoy."

Jerry Sittser

"How God Redeems the Story of Your Life"

The last time I wrote in here was the first day of Advent.  Since then, so much life has been lived.  

My daughter, sister, nephew and girlfriend all came home for Christmas.  Amidst rapid tests and colds, and the stress of it all, we gave thanks for the family we could enjoy and missed the ones we were unable to be with.  The numbers thing you know.

Since then, a new year has been welcomed, my precious grandson turned two, we marked two years since my stepmom is gone and I turned another year older.  

I have continued to bask in the joy and simplicity of Seaton.  Though he doesn't know it, he is the one who teaches me to be present in the moment, and to slow down and appreciate the mundane and familiar.  My life is rich beyond words because of him.  

At the other end of the spectrum are my in-laws, who teach me slowing and simplicity as well, but in ways that often sadden my spirit.  

There is a sacredness to the sunrise and the sunset of life.

Around the corner lies the season of Lent; a time of reflection and sacrifice, of looking within and outwardly, of remembering and recommitting to a suffering, yet risen Savior. 

And, on the horizon is the much anticipated arrival of our granddaughter.  We wait, eager to meet this precious new life and have her join our family.

The days are full, at times in ways which weary me, and at other times, invigorate.  This too is life, the ebb and flow.  

One day at a time.

Making Space

 The eve of Advent.

Oh how ready my heart is for this holy season.

How I desire to be present to the Spirit of God whispering, nudging, guiding.

I am waiting in a unique way this year.  There are numerous circumstances, relationships, desires, within my life, and those I love, in which a wanting is present.  A wanting  for healing, closure, answers, hope.  A reconciling, a fresh start.  Places where there is no big red bow entwined signifying "all is well."

This is nothing new this Christmas, but how I am approaching it is.  All of these places, where life is not right, have become spaces for God.  Roomy, unsatisfied, hushed spaces, where I can meet with God.  The circumstances remain unchanged, and yet, can anything truly be untouched when God is present?

Advent, a season, a space of time for waiting.  Waiting for Emmanuel to come, AND waiting with Emmanuel for the restoring of all things.

Oh how ready my heart is for this holy season season.

Life is Full

So often, the evening comes alongside me, surprising me with its arrival.  Where did the hours go?  I rehearse my day with all its plans and "interruptions" and the full way in which life unfolded.  I close the day, sometimes weary, at times anxious and confused, and other times calm and enriched.  This is life in its fullness.

The days are more expansive now that the world is opening up.  I was eager to actually be with people, in ways which have been absent for far too long.

I became an Essential Caregiver for my mother-in-law a number of months ago.  I visit with her weekly, with my father-in-law joining for a part of the visit.  This time we share is both painful and rich and always something I consider to be an honor.  Mum is in late stage dementia, being mostly nonverbal, confined to a wheelchair and having varying degrees of awareness/alertness on any given day.  I show her pictures of family and watch for even the smallest hint of recognition.  At times she will point or look at me and I wonder if something clicked.  Mostly, it's as though she stares right through them.  I sing to her, read scripture and pray, yearning for a sign that the beautiful life she lived in years past, has triggered her memory.  I pray for her to go home to be with Jesus and still she is here.  So much in life is a mystery.  She is peaceful and at times engaging in the ways that she is able.  For this I give thanks.

On July 12, we celebrated my father-in-law's 90th birthday, in part outside of his Retirement residence and the remainder at our place in the gazebo on the grounds.  My renowned piper- brother-in-law came from out of town and piped in a man whose hunched shoulders and shuffling gait reveal the many years he has lived.  I was able to bring Mum from the adjoining Long-term care building so that she could share in the festivities.  Other close family were present in ways that we have not been since Christmas 2019.   At one point I broke down crying in gratitude and relief, sadness and joy.  So much was weather dependent and we were gifted with a beautiful sunny day.  Mum and Dad have both declined exponentially throughout the pandemic.  It was heartbreaking and beautiful to see them sitting together, masked and in their various stages of decline.  He holds her hand and every so often, she will reach for his.

Dad and his three sons

Brian and I were able to get away the end of July for a few days to celebrate our 30th anniversary.  Again, it's the age-old reality of the swift passing of time.  Thirty years of the fullness of life shared together.  We have had long and painful seasons, not in our relationship but health-wise.  Those "winter" months only brought us closer  We continue to grow and learn together in sometimes surprising ways. 

Recently, my sister was able to fly home from the West.  Again, the challenges in our pandemic world have kept us apart for an elongated stretch of time.  So much has happened since she was home last.  Mom had just died and we had celebrated her life with gusto in a pre-Covid world.  The days and months which followed were filled with adjusting, not just to life without Mom, but also life with Covid.  In time, those of us who live here, sorted through the remnants of Mom's earthly life, Dad remarried, sold the condo and moved in with his new wife, Candie.  So it was "just this" that my sister was coming home to.  Sigh.

Life was full for those nine days.  At times it felt like emotional whiplash, moving from times of sadness to levity in a brief span of time.  Chris, Charmaine and my Dad went to my mother Violet's grave to clean the headstone, mark "50" years ( April 2020, but Covid) and for me to scatter some of my stepmom's ashes on my mother's grave.  Grief can burst through like a storm cloud and then the rays of sunshine beat down.

 

 

Several days later we gathered as family for a brief Committal service and interring of Mom's ashes.  I would have loved if everyone could have been there--all spouses and grandchildren and great grandchild.  What I truly wanted was "the same"...for it to feel like there was still some semblance of normalcy in our family.  Can't we just rewind time and live out the moments of yesteryear?  That all of us siblings and my Dad were there was of great importance for me.  We had waited for my sister Chris.  We needed and she needed to be a part of this next step in our grief journey.  A part of it felt like we were closing a chapter and perhaps we were.  New chapters are being written and yet interspersed in the pages are the memories which never die.  Mom was larger than life and who she was and how she gave of herself. 

Dad and Candie are writing a new chapter together.  There is no age limit to love or to a whirlwind romance. The dust has settled and I have mostly caught my breath.   It's been like a rebirth for both of them and, a "feeling my way", along the way for me.  It's true that I have "been here before" and yet at five the landscape is entirely different than at 56.  They live life and do life so well together and for this I am so grateful.  As Henry Nouwen has said, "Everything is grace." 

And then there is my Bliss, otherwise known as my grandson Seaton.  I will state right upfront that I make no apologies for my utter delight in being a Nana to this precious little boy.  A part of me came alive when he was born and I feel humbly blessed to spend so much time with him and his world.  Wednesday afternoons are still referred to as "Seaton Therapy".  In the middle of the week I get to step out of whatever it is that is weighing me down or needing my attention and focus on this one little human being. I've been told that when his Mommy or Daddy reminds him it's "Nana day", that he jumps up and down chanting "Nana, Nana, Nana".  Does it get better than that??!!!!  It's as though he has reached into the Mama part of me and redeemed it.  All that I missed, for any number of reasons, I am reveling now.  I notice what he notices, and if I don't, he will tell me:)  Life is simple and uncomplicated and full of constant discoveries.  Each week he is saying new words and revealing a little more of his personality  It's mesmerizing just to watch how he interacts with the world around him.

 

 

 

 Watching these two parent and being a part of their household is invigorating and refreshing.  

Soon, oh so very soon, my sweet pea, 26 year old baby girl will be home and our family will once again be together.  Seaton was two months old when she saw him last so they will have some catching up to do!!!  It won't take long!!  For me, it's like waiting for Christmas and that one beautifully wrapped gift under the tree that has your name on it.  I know my girl is coming home for more than just her Mama, but oh my, her Mama's heart is beating with anticipation.

AND, we will be able to meet in person, her boyfriend Trystan.

 Life is full.  At times it's like a clear, flowing waterfall with its beauty and soothing sounds.  Some days it's a torrent of rushing water that I want to stop up and can't.  And still other times it's a quiet lake with storm clouds on the horizon and I'm trying to enjoy the moment before the weather changes.  

Every morning I thank God for his new mercies to me and to those I love.  

Today is a gift from my Creator.  

Life is a gift from Him and in its fullness I find Him near.

. 

Picture by Charmaine S

"Ever-present God,

You call us on a journey to a place we do not know.

We are not where we started.

We have not reached our destination,

We are not sure where we are or who we are.

This is not a comfortable place.

Be among us, we pray.

Calm our fears, save us from discouragement and help us to stay on course.

Open our hearts to guidance so that our journey to t his unknown place continues as a journey of trust.

Amen."

The Rev. Canon Kristi Philip

The Many Faces of Mother's Day

"The largest a mother ever is, is just before the swollen birthing, and after that she spends the rest of her life small, so very small."  Ann Voskamp

Such true words.  There was an excitement and yes, some trepidation, but mostly about what it would take to birth this baby.  But it was that moment of realizing that I did not have a clue how to raise a little life, that "moment", never fully left me, it only evolved.  There are not enough adjectives to describe the realm of mothering. I can too easily slip into remembering all the mistakes I made and decisions I would make differently now.  And still they love me.   I am overwhelmingly honored to have this privilege.

Ready or not!!  First pregnancy

My firstborn, Cam, who has been teaching me since the day he was born.

  Now his firstborn

The bliss of motherhood...being a Nana:)

My sweet pea, though far away in miles, has an imprint on my heart.

My hubby, who enabled me to become a mother:) and has never ceased to encourage me

My daughter-in-law, Sonya  a most beautiful, attentive and adoring mother

It's an honor to be an essential caregiver to my amazing  mother-in-law

My precious mother, who forever lives on in my life.  April 1970

"Losing her does not mean I am any less her daughter.  It just means that being her daughter turned out differently than I had envisioned."  Hope Edelman

My devoted stepmom, whose laugh I can still hear. January 2020

Her Absence

 "Her absence is like the sky, spread over everything."  

C. S. Lewis  "A Grief Observed"

 

This is what has marked the past 51 years.

Her absence.

To have been so young has meant only one memory.

To have lived the last 51 years without her, has meant the presence of her absence.

She is spread over everything.

Each year I hold this day in my hands, turning it over, reflecting on that drive down a country road which changed everything.  I marvel that I still play the "if only", the "why?"  These thoughts don't linger long, but they are there.  She was so horribly stolen from my emerging life, how can I not wonder?  I do not wish a different life, only that she could be part of what is.

Time does heal.

Grief work is "rewarded".

Revisiting trauma creates freedom.

AND

this is not how it was supposed to be.

Life is rich and plentiful

AND

there is an empty space that will never be filled

 

I have grown and changed and raised my own beloved children.  A daughter-in-law graces my life.   A grandson has captured a piece of my heart.  My husband makes me feel enormously blessed.   I live with other losses and know places of contentment.  Life is generously purposeful.

AND still her absence remains.

My mother
is forever a part of me because

I was a part of her.

O my Adonai

In contemplative circles, a breath prayer is characterized by a few words which can be expressed as naturally as one breathes.  Most recently, "O my Adonai" has become a well worn prayer for me.  Adonai, a Hebrew name for God expresses His Lordship...."Lord of everything".

Oh how I need to be reminded and challenged and comforted by this beautiful truth.

O my Adonai,  Lord of my tumultuous emotions...the constant upheaval of joy and sadness that marks my days.

O my Adonai, my Lord of ever-flowing grace which frees my from the guilt of the brokenness in my life.

O my Adonai, Lord of these lengthening shadows of Lent and conqueror of evil and death, my Risen Lord!

O my Adonai, Lord of all my relationships, the deep, soul-filling ones and the painful one estranged.

O my Adonai, Lord of time and the days and months which have passed since she's been home.

O my Adonai, Lord of the one who still fills my days with his love and is ever willing to grow with me.

O my Adonai, Lord of my 14 month-old giver of wonder and laughter, delight...my bliss

O my Adonai, Lord of these two...one from my womb, who both live out purpose with serenity.

O my Adonai, Lord of celebrations and "dismantling" and moving forward...somehow

O my Adonai, Lord of the seasons of life and seasons of the year and this welcome promise of springtime. 

O my Adonai, how I need you now, like I did five minutes ago and yesterday, and will tonight and tomorrow and...

O my Adonai, how I love you.

Embracing Joy and Sorrow

 This prayer on "Embracing Joy and Sorrow", was recently shared with me by one of my sisters.  It has been so timely and has been providing me with somewhat of a template to sift through a myriad of emotions.

 

Do not be distant, O Lord,

lest I find this burden of loss too heavy,

and shrink from the necessary experience of my grief.

 

Do not be distant,

O Lord, lest I become so mired in yesterday’s hurts, 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

that I miss entirely

the living gifts this day might hold.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Let me neither ignore my pain,

pretending all is okay when it isn’t,

nor coddle and magnify my pain,

so that I dull my capacity

to experience all that remains good in this life.

 

 

 

 

 

  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

For joy that denies sorrow 

is neither hard-won,

nor true, nor eternal.

It is not real joy at all.

And sorrow that refuses to make space

for the return of joy and hope,

in the end becomes nothing more than a temple

for the worship of my own woundedness.

 

So, give me strength, O God,

to feel this grief deeply,

never to hide my heart from it. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And give me also hope enough

to remain open to surprising encounters with joy,

as one on a woodland path might stumble suddenly

into dapplings of golden light.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Amidst the pain that lades these days,

give me courage,

O Lord; courage to live them fully,

to love and to allow myself to be loved,

to remember, grieve, and honor what was, 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

to live with thanksgiving in what is, 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

and to invest in the hope of what will be. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Be at work gilding these long heartbreaks 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

with the advent of new joys,

good friendships,

true fellowships, unexpected delights. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Remind me again and again of your goodness,

your presence, your promises.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

For this is who we are: a people of The Promise—

a people shaped in the image of the God

whose very being generates all joy in the universe,

yet who also weeps and grieves its brokenness.

 

So we, your children,

are also at liberty to lament our losses, 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

even as we simultaneously rejoice

in the hope of their coming restoration. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Let me learn now, O Lord,

to do this as naturally as the inhale and exhale

of a single breath:

 

To breathe out sorrow,

to breathe in joy.

 

To breathe out lament,

to breathe in hope.

 

To breathe out pain,

to breathe in comfort.

 

To breathe out sorrow,

to breathe in joy.

 

 

In one hand I grasp the burden of my grief,

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

while with the other I reach for

the hope of grief ’s redemption.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And here, between the tension of the two,

between what was and what will be,

in the very is of now,

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

let my heart be

surprised by,

shaped by,

warmed by,

remade by,

the same joy that forever wells within

and radiates from your heart, O God. 

Amen.

 

Liturgy  "Embracing Joy and Sorrow"

"Every Moment Holy"

Douglas McKelvey