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.