The post that became a bit of a poem.

You're laying in bed, curtains drawn, morning ticking by, to do list sitting un-touched. Motivation doesn't always come easily. Or maybe you're sitting in a closet or a stairwell with clenched fists trying to quell the frustrations of a day in your life. Defeat. Contempt. Disaster. Confusion. Or just our old friend- exhaustion.

Parenting. Grieving. Guiding. Studying. Helping others. Emoting. Praying hard. Commitments. Follow-up. Living.

This saga of surviving, providing & thriving. Life throbbing through your veins. Doing. Being. Understanding.

You can do it. Yeah, "it" really is worth something. And even when no one else seems to see it, God does. He sees you struggling, cocooned in the old fears and pains... pushing, thrashing & finally fighting out into an anticlimactic world where you could be disappointed, bashed down again; where messes still happen and sin still prevails. You stretch out and still groggy tiptoe into fields of dew and delicate woods and down worn-down worn-out paths. You are not alone shivering in this cold, preparing to fight your battles and lift your burdens. No. Don't let silence and distance and being different blind you from Him. Be still a moment. Though you feel you're just coming up, gasping for breath, frantic and busy and needed and flailing to succeed... be still. And know. I am.

Now let this knowledge warm you. You are merely one of the created. You aren't in charge. But today is yours to take. His love is yours to drink in. The graces and mercies whispered into moments as He sees you carry on are waiting. Beauty is here. Rise from your graves and search for Him. He is here and he beckons... there is still a reason to live. Fight to live another day. Give up the griefs and allow joy to penetrate the dark and lonely places. Arise and search for love is here. To give and to recieve. To breath in and out.

There is more to here than what you're feeling.

A continuation of thoughts.

...and I am bereaved and there's no end to this.

...So Thank God There's No End To His Love.

Yes, I thank Heavens every day that I have an eternity to set my heart on. I have a cure; a rescuer for this worn out soul. Without it I am only bereaved.  I am labeled, overcome, hopeless.

Hayley had this song stuck in her head yesterday "Your love never fails it never gives up it never runs out on me." She said that verse over and over and over and o o v v e e r r. And I found myself thinking it over and over in my head until it was moving through my actions with me. It was like a mantra and I peacefully, gratefully, soul at ease- set the table while she whined for things, corrected her as she acted out, remembered what life was supposed to be with twins in the mix, said some prayers, cleaned up a mess or two, readied our family to get out the door... and the list goes on like his love did for me as it covered over my daily stressers.

I am bereaved. I am saved.

.

And God asks of me "Can you live SAVED, redeemed, accepting?" Can I live saved when I feel I'm still needing rescue? When holidays and images and constant flow of new conversation and travel and people leads me to ends where I find I'm unprepared or taken aback... Can I remember as I'm surrounded to simply look upon His grace and know without a shadow of a doubt that I'm already saved?

When I do it's better. No, its best. That's when my soul is at ease and my boys resting and I achieve, no He achieves, peace in my today for myself and my family.

Label

I've been scratching at this label trying to get it off. To "fix" it. It reads wrong. No matter what I do I can't get it off; It's a part of this container. People have come around here and there to take a crack at it and see if it will budge. It won't.

That label reads Bereaved Mother. 

It won't go away and something in me might fight it until the day I die. Something in you wants to fight it for me sometimes. Some days its easier for you or me to ignore that part. At other times you can't help but walk up and see it.

I was speaking with another Bereaved mom a couple of days ago and my heart so resonated as she said "I want to fix this like its another problem. But you can't do that. It won't be fixed." 

We're not broken, we're a part of a new group of people. People who have one foot on earth and the other holding a crack open in the door to heaven. We have a classification as many groups do. We are The Bereaved ones. I'd liken our group to those of cancer groups or alcoholics anonymous. It's nothing you want to be a part of but once you are, you just are. There's just one difference, ours has no cure this side of eternity. No set formulas, so plans... because you can't get out of this boat.

Last night as I settled into bed exhausted the subject of Mother's Day was just lightly mentioned. Kyle dozed on off and I lay there, eyes wide open, the wound of my heart laying open and fresh again... full of panic. I remembered last mother's day being wheeled around the hospital with no certainty but still a family of 5... This mother's day growing more daunting in my mind than the last. How will I face this? Can we go to church? Will we even try? As much as I want to celebrate, it will be emotional no matter what. And on and on the spiral goes with questions and fears and I'm not even a year into this yet. 

Which lead me then to think YEAR. I'm coming up on it. The big one year mark. Others are making plans for their one year old to eat their cake and make a huge mess. Getting a one year photo shoot. Planning a themed party because they can already tell baby loves curious george so much. And I don't know what we'll do but its just as important to me as it is to them that my sons were born a year ago. But it might not be as important to some. This all makes sense. And the pain of the wound and the pound of my heart are in sync as I lay sleepless another night this year.

And when you see me the next day, my hair is done and I'm functioning fine. Though I dabble in the land of the ones who have passed I am living and breathing and fine. I mean it. FINE. I'm okay. I'm good. I look forward to things, I have started a home business, I have plans and a future. We love the stage Hayley is at, I've been doing this really neat puzzle during my down time, we can't wait for all this snow to melt, we take pictures, we play music all of the time, we do chores and diet and splurge for some junk food and a movie once a week. We fight and complain over things so trivial in a day. We run late and rush. We enjoy church and friends and lead a small group and have games nights.

On the outside and on the inside its okay. It's just the boys are interwoven in a day... in a thing I say or don't say to someone. In what I have to wear now to avoid pressure on a scar. In my parenting choices. In my smile and in my tears. In a squeeze of the hand or exit from a room if things come up that I'm not ready for. In a song and in a goofy dance with Hayley. They're here and I am bereaved and there's no end to this. And I am okay with that. As long as I live, their memory can't die.

jour de l'indépendance

On this, Senegal's Independence Day, I remember all of the independence I learned growing up there. So here's a TOP 10 LIST. 

1. Going to the boutique for baking ingredients and Ice cold, bottled coca-cola.

2. Taking Taxi's to school.

3. Being independent and eccentric in your style/not caring too very much until its a special occasion.

4. Learning a language {or two or three} on my own.

5. Safely escaping riots and large passionate crowds.

6. Spiritual independence. Taking initiative to really know who and what you believe in. Being in-tune with that realm of life. Making commitments and having a daily routine to affirm and grow your spirituality.

7. Cooking. Can't talk about Senegal without talking about the delicious FOOD! On the day I turned 10, I remember going next door in my umbros & hanes T-Shirt only to be greeted by a head wrap and wrap-around skirt. It was my coming of age and I needed to start dressing appropriately! What else did I receive that day besides modesty? A cooking lesson. 

8. Work Ethic. Being self-motivating. Living on next to nothing/Frugality. The men and women alike that I looked up to growing up: Diami, Malik, Demba, Rose, Helene, Tafa... are all the hardest working people you'll ever meet. Fight to provide for your family and maintain dignity and glorify God at all costs, every day.

9. Knowledge. Knowledge like how to pick fruit out at a fruit stand, how to eat a whole fish and not its bones, how to make water filters and how to remove urchin spines from your skin.

10. Confidence: To jump off cliffs, scuba dive, navigate smelly fish markets, smile at anyone, barter for your food and accessories, try out new languages and foods... and so much more.

Senegal, I will forever be indebted to you.

Africa O'Clock

I met this beautiful, very pregnant, Congolese woman last year in the hospital.

I went to visit her a couple of weeks ago: I stepped off of a snowy, Edmonton street into a typical African home. It's not every day you get to do that!

I had told her I'd be there and 9:30 or 10:00 but knew she was African enough that I shouldn't show up right on time. Well, at 10:30 she still wasn't expecting me... and in welcoming, loving, irreplaceable African style she came to the door in her PJs just beside-herself-THRILLED to see me as though she never thought I'd have come (even though we texted and confirmed several times.) If you've never felt that kind of love from a friend you're missing out. And this a 'friend' I'd only met and been in the hospital with for a couple of weeks before she had her girls and went home. And if I go back every week at 10:30 sharp on Monday morning from now until our girls are grown I guarantee you I'll get that same reaction. What gratitude for a friend. They'll never feel deserving of or entitled to, just blessed with and thankful for and full of joy. What great people. As awkward as that heroes welcome might be to some, when you've grown up there and you miss your friends there every day now, the feeling is next to none.

When they aren't in Canada and well-fed with jobs and a roof over their heads? It's no different. On their worst day a friend is a friend and joy is a choice they and their ancestors are used to making in dire circumstances. Christian or not. Clothed or not. {West} Africans are celebrators, passionate 'feelers' and lovers. And I can't help but feel like it should be that way around here more often.

You might think, well is it all fake? If you're reading this and you've been there you're shaking your head. NO It's not like that. I took pictures of our twins that day to share because she'd just had her twins and couldn't make it to the memorial. She and her husband wept. And when she was being wheeled away for her unexpected early delivery of Solera and Solana she was a wreck. Heart set on the fact that it wasn't time. She's the wildest of emoters you'd ever meet this side of the ocean. We wept together and prayed over her tiny preemie babies in the NICU.

The Africans I know and love are bold with their expectations. Soft hearted. Loud and obvious about how they feel. Their anger is lethal. Their joy is boundless. They're really real and really open. And I love 'em. That is all :)

De-Coding and Re-coding the Easter Egg... and other such traditions.

As Hayley's mind gets sharper and her questions better and the word "why" is starting to turn my hair grey... I find myself also re-thinking some things and asking WHY a lot.

Our kids are getting impressionable. People are starting to say at the check-out line "is the Easter bunny coming to your house?" As you go through the mall you see Santa and try to explain. And before I know it she'll be losing those pearly whites and asking for my life savings.

What things were done for me? How about for my spouse? And my friends? What are my cousins doing? What have my friends with older kids been doing all these years? What do these bloggers do? ...And I pick up the phone to talk to my mom or I sit down and listen to my mother in law with new ears.

Just like our parents and their parents {We are both blessed with a heritage that shares our same beliefs- Christ followers for us to now follow}, we are feeling a need to be different and be clear on what these holidays are all about. But we aren't ones to skip out on a party or deprive a kid... and neither were our folks.

It was the day before Easter and my in-laws were hosting a fun little Egg Hunt for Hayley and her friends. {What a lucky little grand-daughter} My mom-in-law asked to share a little bit about why we hunt for eggs... and I was all "YES please"... because I could not bring to mind why we did that again even though I did it every year and my dad had been both minister and easter bunny on more than one occasion!

Perhaps my biggest disadvantage to all of this holiday fuss was that celebrating in Africa removed us from the general celebration and it was more of a what-mom-and-dad-made-it thing... as well as an "American" event usually in which we got together with other Americans and wore American clothes and ate American food and that's what I thought was so fantastic at the time.

And for Christmas one of my favourite memories NOW though I doubt I fully appreciated it at the time was that year mom and dad had friends over for communion. And my least favourite Christmas memory was coming around the corner at a French convenient store in Dakar to a tall, skinny, very dark man in a red Santa suit with a thin white plastic beard.  I bet that man didn't know that the real reason's better.

So Saturday I learned a thing or two that I didn't know. And I expect that these next few years of Hayley's "firsts" will bring a lot of discovering my way.

We did give her an Easter basket & the hunt was tons of fun. The eggs represent new life. Perhaps Easter will be a bit of a Spring Celebration. Jesus' new life, our new life, & the world coming to new life ever revealing God's tapestry of love to us.

We're searching for some unique and some classic... and sticking to the real reason for each special season: Christ, his love, God, his blessings, we the receivers... learning and teaching to live life with open hands. May we take each occasion to honour him and enjoy our heritage as we make new memories to keep.

Once Upon an Afternoon, Written and illustrated by me...

Once upon an afternoon we opened our front door to decide whether or not to venture outside.

Once upon an afternoon, can you believe it? ...it was still blowing cold mountain breezes and the sun just wasn't warm enough to chase the winter away.

Once upon an afternoon we could have refused to brave the weather insisting spring would be here soon!


On such an afternoon we'd mosy around in sweatpants and slippers building (again) with the blocks and molding (again) with the clay and finally piling onto the couch under blankets (again) to watch a show sleepily.










Well that's not how this story goes.

Once upon an afternoon we said to "pish posh!" to waiting on spring and strapped on our boots, pulled down our touques, swooshed on our scarves, tucked on our mittens and got to shovelling!

We shovelled the front porch, we shovelled the back deck... and before we knew it, we'd shovelled right out into the yard...

And discovered a wall of snow hiding a huge path between the yard and the fence.
So we sunk and jumped and clambered right on over! We made tunnels and trenches... We made snow animals and snow men...



And before long the snow wasn't so cold or deep or dreary at all! 


Perhaps if we can spend a few more afternoons busily enjoying this snow..

then, upon one afternoon, we'll find the tunnels gone and the snowmen melting... and before we know it spring will have sprung with many a winter's adventure to talk about!

I'd like to talk to you about Postpartum Depression.

I'd like to talk to you about Postpartum Depression.
{Online Definition available here Post Partum Depression}

It is my husbands fear. It is my worst enemy and constituted some of my darkest hours. You never want it. You never want your family to be exposed to it. If you think you might have symptoms I know how scary it is to admit the things you think, feel or do... but do it or it will never improve. When you have postpartum you.need.help.

I got those pamphlets after delivery. I'd even seen those posters up in the doctors offices at my pre-natal appointments. I'm talking about when I was pregnant with Hayley. And I'm talking about after she was born and I had a bundle of joy in my life. A beautiful. innocent. precious. joy. of a little girl.

Sure 0-3 months later I may have had a little anxiety or been a little tired but I was fine. 3-6 months later we were packing to go to Africa and I was excited and preoccupied. 7 months later did NOT take the turn I had anticipated. We moved to Africa and didn't feel an ounce of regret on that 1 month session of travels and good-byes and changes. We flew a 9 hour day to the states and a 9 hour flight across the Atlantic with little regard to how much change was ahead and a whole lot of enthusiasm.

I often explain in reflection to people how it was so different to be the adult and not the missionary kid. To be the parent and the home maker trying to keep a "normal" at home and be a good witness when you step out that heavy metal security door into the hot red sand in a long tight piece of vibrant cloth. And I'd like to blame all the hardship on being OCD and the heat rash and the sand and the lack of adequate financial support and the doubly difficult twin pregnancy where I could not eat anything... but those obstacles would have been simple enough to overcome had it not been for postpartum depression.

At first I thought it was culture shock. I'd been through that before. Then as it progressed I began to believe lies and hide and do things that hurt myself and then my family... until one day I announced to my husband that I was truly convinced that I was possessed by a demon. And I believed this. I thought that announcement would be followed by all sorts of prayer meetings and casting-outs and battles for my soul. But I'm the only one who wound up having to fight those battles.

He knew something was wrong and we kept on trying everything through prayers and tears. I'd phone him just beside myself and he'd have to step in again to feed Hayley or bath her or change her diaper or put her down for her nap. I. just. could. not.

When I read what postpartum was by chance one day I knew I'd figured it out. I went to the school counsellor and, very afraid,  blurted out how I'd broken my finger hitting walls and I'd scream and I'd hide and I'd think about dying.
All this while everything else was amazing around me. Hayley was turning one and learning to walk. Kyle was beyond excellent at his job there. But somehow I was hating this place I loved and living on the outside but dead inside.

They say knowing is half the battle. I'd agree.

And where was God then? Right there. Scripture was a huge part of my rescue.Truth to replace lies is only found in the Word of God. And all of that ground work I did between Hayley's first birthday and moving back to Canada to have the twins created roots for me when I needed to grow even more. And finding his arms and learning who I am and how I have victory and knowing brokenness and healing in my very marrow and feeling failure and knowing he is what makes me enough and recognizing his arms around me as darkness tries to fight for a grip around my neck... of course he let me live these things and be these things. He is the gardener. I have been pruned. It hurts. Its worth it.

I have said many times on this road past Noah and Jayden's time on Earth... that those roughest days in Africa were preparing me for this. Equipping me with grace and a knowledge of his mercy to suffice this trial... to survive another day.

A decorating DIY of sorts.

 for            E A S T E R

~We made this Easter tree first. {Apparently this is a German tradition, though I was unaware.} My mom had mailed me these random little ornaments and we decided this is what we'd do. My mother-in-law gets me flowers... she's so sweet :) And I hate to admit that I killed my valentine's rose plant... that were in that pink little flower pot. So we re-vamped it into Easter decor by filling it with sand, picking a twig, and using our little ornaments. It's sitting on a piece of china from one of Kyle's Grandma's many tea cup sets. I scavenge around in my cupboards before each holiday and realize I have pieces I've never thought to use for this or that.












~ That story book is one Hayley got for Christmas and our plan was to read up to the Easter story by easter day... well, one story a day just wasn't enough and we've completed the book. So we're using it as a little reminder and we get it down here and there and reread some stories. Kids books always = interesting, fun decorations.

~We bought those plastic easter eggs last year and I just stored them. We have already had a zillion easter egg hunts {just for empty ones right now & the occasional left-over-valentine's chocolates!}... I figure why not practice? I like to have consistent things we always bring out... that was special for me as a kid.

~The eggs & cross hanging from our stocking hooks were what inspired this post. I love them and its nothing you can get in a store. We cut up old calendar pages and scrap book pages & glued them on an old cardboard box... then cut out our shapes, hole punched them & stuck some leftover ribbon in.

~And my fun little spring bouquet is also from my lovely mother-in-law. A little spring gift to let me know I'm thought of. {Thank-you! You made my day AND our decor! You know how much I love that.} I like to split up my bouquets around the house to spread out the prettiness!

~{We might attempt a wreath this week with some dollar store flowers stuck into the wreath I had dollar store leaves stuck in for fall. Or something else fun along those lines.} SCRATCH that. I am now editing this post because the pictures didn't originally work... and we have MADE our wreath!
Hayley did some finger-painting earlier this week and I decided to cut up some of the paper smothered in paint & make wreath decorations. Again... trying to decorate completely from scratch. It's fun! So here it is: crosses, eggs and some hearts plus some leftover dollar store "flowers" from fall. I just punched holes in them & attached them with fishing wire... literally fishing wire, from Kyle's tackle box.


I like to decorate slowly with our home made items... we've still got some time before easter... but I loved how things were decorated the whole month of the holiday in my house growing up. It's magical when you're little... and maybe big too :)

Here are some of Hayley's other spring crafts & projects: In music class we made the melted snowman & the ecstatic-looking chick. They're super simple.

Melted snowman: Paper plate upside down + syrofoam ball cut in half + cotton balls for the snow + a few old buttons, some pipe cleaners for nose, arms and mouth + googly eyes. *My baby was the only one in music class who wanted to make a scarf and bow for her "snowgirl" to accessorize! {She knows what's important, ha.}

Ecstatic yellow Chick: Orange + Yellow construction paper  {a lot of cutting practice for mommy} + Yellow fingerpainting on white paper + Googly eyes.

You will also notice her egg chalk in this picture. $3.00 @ Wal-Mart or for my international readers check out this sidewalk chalk recipe I saw on Pinterest:
http://media-cache-ec6.pinterest.com/originals/02/08/43/020843ccf7276e3bce2a664c26181489.jpg

I'm sure it would be more pleasant if it didn't look like this outside today!! {all of that HAD melted}

Here she was last week using it :) {Yes, I said last week.}

Spring--with a touch of NEON.

ob·ses·sion

  [uhb-sesh-uhn]

noun

1.

the domination of one's thoughts or feelings by a persistent idea, image, desire, etc.

I realized I was obsessed yesterday when I started taking MORE rain boot pictures. I cannot get enough of my child splashing in the puddles. I want a picture of her every moment in those boots. She is so thrilled with puddles. I am loving spring vicariously through her. Spring here isn't pretty. Really. We get absolutely stunning winters, summers & falls but I could skip spring and be alright. There's just SO.MUCH. snow to melt. It's slow and wet and most days the weather can't make up its mind. It's far from rain and blossoms for a very long time. It's just grey and slush... that was until Hayley's hot pink boots. {Should I be writing a children's book? Maybe?}

 COME ON!! What's not to love?

She has always been my sunshine. And now she's the HIGHLIGHT :) of spring.

 ...Oh the adventures a little girl can have when the world is wide and kind and her boots are neon pink!

Because of June 9, 2012...

I have 2 strollers, 2 carseats & some baby toys: For when my friend from the hospital has me keep her twin girls. They’re special because the boys knew them too!

I have read these amazing books and have these amazing people to send thank-you cards to for the incredible amounts of love and care that have been extended to me by the church. I have seen love like never before in myself and in others.

I have a box in the basement I dare not open. It’s full of little shoes and preemie sleepers I had packed in the boys’ diaper bag: 2 of each. Its got some hand-me-downs from their sister. It’s also got their duvet covers, hooks for the wall & art for the nursery I had all planned out. That’s not a tangible thing I care to look at or touch much.

I have been a friend to a few in need when they weren’t sure who to trust. Not because I’m anything special. But because of our {My son’s & my} story. Because God’s seen me through to today.

I make these earthy-chique baby mobiles in my babys’ honour. For fun. To show love to babies. To force myself on a walk into the trees to see some of God’s art. To spend a mindless evening with twine and my hands and sometimes some mindless tv or slow conversations.

I’m GETTING a TATTOO. I have wanted to do this all.my.life. 

I have a thank-you card & pamphlets leftover from a funeral home. I hate to see that emblem with the trees and PARK MEMORIAL written on it. Even if I am thankful for them, too. 

My sons have death certificates & certificates of cremation. Sad. But they’re the only legal pieces of paper we ever got with their full names. Somehow making them more human to me. We never got birth certificates.

I’m starting to finally fulfill my dream of writing my life story out. Who knows if anyone will ever get to read it, but its for me.

I still have a “TWINS” board on pinterest & I haven’t changed my blog description though its pretty inaccurate of who I am now. These are those little steps I just haven’t taken yet. 

I’m learning about loving my body... scars, stretch marks & all. 

We preach heaven in this house. Easter has never seemed so needed, so real, so neat.

We learned that Hayley was more of a miracle than we already knew the day she was born. She will live even more cherished and even more photographed if that’s possible!!

I really don’t enjoy the little crafts where you “make your family.” One day Hayley can decide if she’ll include 2 little brothers or not... for now its always a toss up... especially if we are in a classroom setting with other people.

... Just a few more thoughts I came across in my reflecting yesterday.