Begin again.

Your words like acid
burn my skin.

I reel back, breath knocked out,
a balloon pin-pricked.

It is I think the accumulation
of years of anger.

It is also years of hurt,
one brick of scathing words upon another.

Later, you apologize and I
forgive.

Yet still we are two people locked in
their own prisons of pain.

How to move forward?
Release the anguish...

Another day comes
Fresh with possibilities.

Each day filled with choices
that I must make.

Today will I walk toward
you with an open hand?

Heart-wounded, yet so very
full of the deepest love.

I turn to the One,
beaten, scorned, spit upon.

There my example
stands, full of mercy.

I, the one who in my turn
scorned, and spit upon You.

Yet You, always, with arms open,
take me in, wrap in me Love.

How can I then not
do the same?

Beloved, this one who
hurt me.

I choose to love, move
on, move past.

I choose a new beginning,
push through the barriers.

I take you in, I wrap you
in my love, faulty though it is.

And so I carry on,
reaching for you, not turning away.

Broken and bruised
yet always hoping, healing will come.

Attentiveness

I just read the most amazing article.

One of my friends posted it on Facebook. It is called the "Aesthetics of Attentiveness" and it is about a woman who survived a heart attack at 49 years old. She is an art Professor.

Here are the parts that struck me:

"For a year, recovering was Erica’s sole occupation. “Your body doesn’t allow you to do anything,” she explains. “For months I would simply follow the sun through the house and sit in patches of sunlight. I can’t tell you how infrequently in my life I’ve sat in the sun on the porch.”

A woman accustomed to tackling any task presented to her by sheer dint of will, Erica initially resisted such an abrupt stop — attempting to go in to work or to paint. But, she found, “My body let me know on no uncertain terms — as one realizes when one’s pregnant — that there are bodily limitations. I learned the degree to which I needed to listen to my body and how much I had really stopped doing so.” Upon order of her doctor, Erica spent those 12 months paying attention — to her body, to the beauty of life and nature, and to every small, ordinary moment. “It was a process of listening and prayer. I learned that there is no such thing as the mundane, for one thing. I learned how incredibly beautiful every gesture is; to take nothing for granted — no day, no set of eyes — everything is a gift; to trust circumstances that God places you in; and to listen.”

Here Erica pauses in her storytelling. Emotion bubbles to the surface and her vibrant eyes turn glassy as she considers, “It was a year of realizing that we are surrounded at every moment by indescribable beauty, and unfathomable suffering, and profound joy.”

When a colleague gave Erica 30 sheep-skins, she resolved to make parchment from them, filming the process and integrating it into her artmaking. The process of shearing the skins, says Erica is not unlike healing from her heart attack: “It felt like an inward shearing and culling—stripping layers that were unnecessary, in order to become more real.”

This attentiveness, she explains, referencing the philosophers Simone Weil and Iris Murdoch, is the first step in living a moral life. It is essential in honing our ability to hear and see God in daily life — to deepen our prayer and meditation. Being attentive to things outside of ourselves moves us beyond what she calls ‘solipsistic self-preoccupation’. Without paying attention, she says, “we only live on the surface and don’t ever become who we are fully intended to be. We can never be honest or self aware.”"

As a person who has suffered from a chronic illness most of my adult life and has also developed as couple of other health problems, this article was stunningly encouraging to me. For years I had felt bad about being "sick", guilty even, like I was spoiling other people's lives or ruining their good times. This simply is not true. I did not pick the conditions I have and I certainly have sought all kinds of help to control them. But, I have always pushed myself...tried to keep on going, put on an act, or took medication that would enable me at the very least to show up in many of life's moments.

In the past few months, however, I have been paying "attention", respecting and honoring my limitations. Listening to my body. Stopping. Laying down if I have to... and it really has made a difference. There is less actual time lost to these various conditions. I have learned the value of empathy, compassion, quietness. I have learned to be grateful when I am well. I am learning to be happier (on ongoing project), to be content. Like Erica says, "we are surrounded by indescribable beauty, and unfathomable suffering and profound joy."

Also, as a stay at home Mom, I found Erica's word's "there is no such thing as the mundane...how incredibly beautiful every gesture is; to take no thing for granted - no day - no set of eyes - everything is a gift; to trust the circumstances that God places you in; and to listen." - this was so uplifting to me. As a Mom, so much of life seems repetitive, and mundane, yet, indeed, each moment is rich with meaning, and each moment a gift I'm given - to work in, to live in, to celebrate and yes, at times painful and full of suffering.

As Erica says, as we pay attention, we become more "real", more self-aware and more able to be all that we are intended to be, limitations notwithstanding!

So I am thankful today. For this day, with the sun shining, for this day, with its attendant pain, for this day, for all the people who mean so much to me. For this day, because it is gift.

I lift up my cup, I toast my life...

Thank you, God, for all it...for all the joy of loving, for all the pain of suffering, for all the rich lessons I am learning.

Thank you.

P.S.

Here is a link to the entire article I have referenced -

The Aesthetics of Attentiveness | Issue No. 18 - Trinity Western Magazine

www.twu.ca

Part of Happiness...Feel what you feel even if it's not what you want to feel...

So, I am struggling.

I am being bombarded by hormonal torture....flung about on an emotional roller coaster, screamingly down, whipped around the corner and then up, up into the air, then down, down, down...UGH!

My husband thinks (here I'm guessing, but am probably correct) that someone has kidnapped his formerly cheerful wife and replaced her with a Hormonal Hag... This periomenopause, menopause thing is awful!

My struggle is to overcome this and to continue to maintain an attitude of cheerfulness. Shoot, who needs the pressure of "if mama ain't happy ain't nobody happy." I am wishing that others would pitch in and help me out. Someone help. Please.

The relief comes from knowing that part of happiness is to "feel what you feel even if it's not what you want to feel." So, I have to accept this ride I'm taking, hormonal bursts of hell, but goodness gracious, I do not want to drown in this black sea of moodiness.

So, I scrape myself up off of the ground, vent occasionally and verbosely to a good friend, mutter under my breath all sorts of yuckiness and then give myself a good shake and get silly!

Get silly, get silly, ya, ya, ya.

I have discovered that when you get silly, you can get happy or at the very least happier than you were!

So, I burst out in operatic song, do a little dance, shake my bootie and just generally act up...it's great therapy and I highly recommend it.

So, dear husband and sweet daughter, I hope you find it in your heart's to forgive the Hormonal Hag her agonies and go on loving and putting up with me while I try to navigate this ocean of uncertainty. I do love you both immensely and completely and maybe we can all work together to keep our home a "happy one."

It is a circle you know the attitude, adjust it, adjust it, adjust it...round and round we go. Each time we circumvent the circle the more we are able to decide that just for the next moment and the next, and the next, we will choose...to smile and to be....yes, you got it, happy.

Happiness project continued...boundaries...permeability and nit picking night and day...

Well, last Sunday, we had what I have come to call more "adventures."

How I see my life, affects how I react to the situations in my life and thus affects my "happiness quotient."

The day started in the wee hours of the morning, around say 4 a.m., the phone rang. Perhaps by now if you are regular reader of this blog you will know or perhaps guess who that phone call was from??? Yes, it was my sonny boy. He was distressed, he and his girlfriend had broken up. She had apparently broken up with him and he was dislodged in the literal sense of the word. Could I pick him up later in the morning he wondered? I agreed.

I crawled back into bed and began a litany...Oh, God, oh God, oh God...what am I going to do??? What are we going to do??? Do I have to put my son on the streets? Can I realistically offer him sanctuary??? What will hubby think when he wakes up in the morning???? I repeated my litany, a prayer in every sense of the word, oh God, oh God, oh God...help me...help us.

Funnily enough, I eventually fell back to sleep. The phone rang again about 7:30 a.m. I answered and then off I went to pick him up. He was exhausted and very unhappy.

He was greeted enthusiastically by our little girl. Oh how his sister loves him... Hubby was still in bed, perhaps he was digesting this turn of events while he lay there.

In a while the three of us ended up on the deck talking about his situation, his feelings, his circumstances, his conundrum. We gave him our ear...hubby asked some pointed questions which were received with some hostility. Thankfully, hubby realized the state sonny boy was in and backed off with the questions and offered a sounding board and affection. This made me so very glad. We are learning all of us, the delicate art of reading one another, and of responding in a way that builds bridges and not walls.

Step-parenting has been I think for my husband, a bit like walking on jagged glass and only time and developing wisdom has made the path paved with gravel at least and maybe even smooth paving some days and moments. I am immensely proud of my husband and his consistent efforts to be a better person, husband, step-father and dad.

After some more time, it is now only my hubby and myself who sit on the deck. Now the really big question comes. Can we give sonny boy some time to get on his feet I ask hubby, breath held, my motherly heart aching with all the complications of navigating loyalty to my husband and loyalty to my son.

Open-hearted, to my great relief and to my delight he agrees. Carefully, we construct boundaries. This is dangerous ground for both of us, we know the powder-keg that exists within my son's present make-up, his volatility, his changes of mood, the potential chaos that lurks under the surface of my dear son's hurts and how they have played out in the past. We love him desperately, deeply, yet we must not allow our home to become what we have fought long and hard for it to be...a place where there is peace and cooperation.

I saw a picture on one of my niece's blog's recently. It was absolutely adorable. It showed her son peeking out from behind a baby gate and the caption read, "keeping the little man safe." In that moment as I looked at the picture and the notation, it crystallized and formed an incredibly poignant word picture. The baby gate is a boundary for my niece's son and it's purpose is to keep him safe. The baby gate also protects my niece and her husband. With the baby safely within that boundary, they are safe from the dangers that may accost their son and from consequences for both their baby and for themselves. The boundary protects both the child and the parents.

So it is with the boundaries I place in my life and in the lives of my children. They keep us safe. If we feel the need, we can tighten the boundaries, make them more solid. If however, we feel safe and know that or hope/believe there is the possibility for change/growth, we can choose to make the boundaries more permeable.

One day my niece and her husband will not have to have baby gates, they will trust their boy with boundaries that increase as he grows and matures.

So, we presented our son with our list...offered him temporary sanctuary that could possibly, we said, become more permanent if there was compliance and we could all get along. He agreed. They were not easy things we asked, but he is an adult now and they were reasonable.

As the day wound on, he later called his girlfriend and they "made up."

We had suspected this would happen and supported him, still giving him the option to be here if he needed to be.

During the day, there was some bouncing back forth in the decision making process for him but eventually he settled that he would be her and we left it at that.

I was so very, very glad that we were able to offer him an open door, that he could hold that in his heart and remember that always, always, he is loved, he is wanted. Boundaries would have to exist- but we were here, he belongs and it is his choice that he is where he is now.

In the midst of this we get a phone call from our daughter's friend's mother. Her daughter has lice and since my child and hers just had a sleepover at their place a few days earlier we had better do a head check.

Much to our distress, sure enough sweet cheeks, has it. The dreaded lice.

The battle begins, loads and loads and loads and loads of laundry. Vacuuming of beds, and furniture is done. Bags and bags of stuffed animals and extraneous bedding is bagged and sealed to suffocate the little buggers. And the hunt for lice - the nit-picking begins. A tedious, unpleasant, long task takes place, again, again and again.

We buy a special magnifying light. We are not as young as we used to be and our eyesight even with our glasses doesn't provide enough illumination for the task. We purchase a special shampoo. We research the internet and try not only the pesticide route but the natural cures as well. Olive oil, tea tree oil, Avon's skin so soft. Our daughter's head is doused with these solutions and then faithfully, combed out and picked, picked, picked. Nervously, we check each other's head, fingers, eyes and toes crossed hoping that we will not also be afflicted with these pernicious little beasts as well.

It is an exhausting process. We are not pleased by this turn of events, but we determine to look at the whole thing as an adventure. I tease our daughter that she is having her hair done at a spa, we make deliberate efforts to lighten up, to encourage one another when the task gets irksome and believe me, it does. We watch old movies and I Love Lucy so that our attention is diverted during the long nit-picking sessions and so that we can laugh, laugh, laugh.

Don't get me wrong, there has been some weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth. But, we have decided that we will look for and on the bright side.

We have discovered that happiness is contagious. If one of us is cheerful, sooner or later everyone else in our home becomes happier.

I discovered another word picture as hubby and I were out on the deck drinking our after dinner tea. It had been raining on and off all day and as I looked over to my left, I saw some blue sky and some delicately wispy clouds. "Look at the beautiful sky," I said to my hubby. He was sitting in the other direction and said, "yes, but look at the sky over there." It was darker and more foreboding, the rain was gathering in the clouds. So, what would we do, focus on the beauty of the blue sky pushing the rains away, or focus on the darkness?

That has been our choice all this week.

I am happier when I focus on the good, and more dragged down when I see only the darkness.

So, I am working and at times, it really is work, on shifting my focus, changing my attitude.

I am choosing happiness.

My Happiness Project - Keys I've found to being happy even when you have difficult people in your life...

Well, it's been a couple of weeks since I've posted anything.

We've had vacation and that has been wonderful!

Now we're in the summer swing of things...lazy days, getting up, doing the work-out, heading out to play or to run errands or visit with friends and family...good days for the most part.

During my vacation and the over last few weeks I've been thinking about the difficult people in my life. People that I cannot divorce myself from because they are people whom I care about deeply, intensely and personally. You should probably know that in this discussion I am not referring to my husband as a "difficult" person. We have certainly had our agonizingly rough times and I'm sure we've considered each other difficult at one time or another. We have, however, recognized the value of our love and commitment to each other and with hard work, counseling from time to time, lots of prayer and tips from respected people in our lives, persevered, and are at the present enjoying a relatively smooth relationship.

There are then, certain people whom I find difficult in my life. They are a continuous challenge to me and ceasing to see them at is not an option. So what do I do about them?

In my pondering I've come up with four steps that I have found helpful to me. These steps are really a result of years of trial and error and or counseling, but I think I've finally put together things that are a real and practical help to me. In my search for happiness, I've come to learn that people cannot be relied upon solely for my moment to moment happiness. Certainly, being with friends and family can bring immense satisfaction and pleasure, but then there are other times that well...what I think and what I do directly affects my happiness in relation to how I feel about a particular person or situation.

So here goes...

#1 - Accept the person as they are. It's a big job, but vital. I cannot change that person; nothing I say or do can alter someone else. Any change must ultimately come from the other person's inner motivation to change or some supernatural working of God on that person's life. I need to stop talking, crying, coaxing, wheedling, whining or attempting to manipulate. Period. In acceptance lies peace, an inner letting go. As the saying goes "Let go and let God." And by the way, I'm also trying to give up trying coax, plead, whine and attempt to direct God. The "let God" part is recognizing as C.S. Lewis puts it that God is "not tame." He is Incomprehensible, Sovereign and wholly Mysterious.

#2 - Forgive that person. If you have a difficult person in your life you know what I mean. If they're difficult, it means you've in all likelihood sustained considerable hurt at their hands. I need to release that person from any grudge I hold against them. I've heard it said that bitterness is the poison pill that kills you not the person who hurt you. If I don't forgive, I become bitter...trust me, I know. Bitterness destroys happiness! It destroys me. It sours my outlook on life. It brings depression and gloom. When I forgive someone who has hurt me, I open my heart to the possibility that they may someday change, it leaves me free to love them in a way that liberates me. Forgiveness gives me the power to look ahead and not to fixate on the past. It is important for me to remember that forgiveness does not mean giving the other person the right to continue to inflict pain upon me. I'll address that in my fourth point.

#3 - Change my attitude toward that person. I will determine to cease to let that other person control my days, my happiness, or my ultimate satisfaction with my everyday circumstances. Yes, they may say or do hurtful things, but I can and will choose my reaction to them. I will not give that other person the power to make me feel miserable for longer than it takes me to process their actions. I will be grateful for all the good things and people in my life. I will not let one person kill my joy. I will find things to be "glad" about. I will determine to adjust my thoughts to focus on the positive things in my life and not on the pain. Of course I will grieve, cry, vent when I need to, but I will not "live" there.

#4 - I will set up the appropriate boundaries so that I can maintain physical, emotional, and spiritual safety. This is an extremely important step. A counselor once said to me that we teach other people how to treat us. This was shocking to me but it was sadly true. For example, if get up early to drive my son to work, make him a good breakfast and he throws it out the car window because it wasn't just right and then get up the next morning and make him breakfast again what am I teaching him? I'm teaching him it's O.K. to be rude, ungrateful etc. etc. So, I need to say the next day I'm not making your breakfast today because...then walk away, not engage in any other conversation about it. It's never O.K. for someone to be physically, emotionally, verbally or spiritually abusive to me. I should not tolerate that or accept it as normal. I need to set up boundaries to protect myself from these kinds of interactions. Often we need help doing that. I've gotten help, please if anyone reading this suffers in this way, call a counselor, get some help. In learning to do so my self-respect has grown. I do not need to be any-body's victim. I can set boundaries in place so that I can relate to people who are difficult yet with whom I intend to be in relationship so that I can be safe!

These four steps have helped me recently more than once and I'm sure they will be of help to me again. They are steps that have in fact increased my overall happiness and for that I am grateful.

I have made some incredibly agonizing decisions in my life to ensure my physical, emotional and spiritual well-being. I divorced my first husband. I have had to ask my beloved son to live somewhere else (for reasons so very complicated and complex). I have left a church that was not healthy. I have had to hang up the phone when someone was cursing at me, leave a restaurant just before the dinner arrived, call the police, on and on it goes.

Yet, each time I do these things I become stronger, more sure of who I am called to be. I am woman, loved and valued by God. I have many people in my life who make happiness easy and those who do not. I am, however, determined to be a person who is happy. A person who meets life's challenges head-on. A lover of life and people, someone who inspires others to be the best that they can be. Someone who inspires others to be...happy....even when there are difficult people to deal with.

Holiday Happiness - Happiness Project-better late than......

I am late in writing this because we have been on vacation...

Now THIS is happiness...the sun, the sea, the ones I love (well some of them anyways), a perfect setting, delectably delicious food. No cooking for me or any other home-type responsibilities...what a lovely break.

I am not complaining, I enjoy being who I am (for the most part), and my life work, taking care of family and home and connecting with the community through my responsibilities at church are all things that are a good fit for me.

But I am loving this break. And this vacation is such a departure from the ones we usually take that it is pure delight.

We are sitting in the sun, reading our books. Zipping around the lake on the seadoo wind blowing in our hair. Paddling in the paddle boat with my little girl. Slicing through the water, feeling the cool refreshment lapping around our skin like gentle caresses. I don't have to think AT ALL about meals, or laundry or the packing and unpacking everything from linens, to food, to clothing, to medicines, etc., etc., etc.... We brought only clothes and swimsuits, just what we need to play in and we are fun, fun, fun.

I learned on day one that attitude is everything...the weather started out a bit iffy...but with gratefulness in mind and a determination to enjoy my holiday, it was like the attitude translated into the weather and everything became the loveliness I had wished for.

So, sometimes happiness just is...everything is the way we dreamed it would be.

I know that there will be storms ahead, that perfection is really just a myth, but for today, I am enjoying the bliss of now...and I am very...happy.

Happiness Project - What happened today...

I was planning on writing about another stair on the rung of my happiness ladder, but something has happened today. So, I am going to tell you about it and what I learned from it.

This morning I was in bed, the fog of sleep surrounding me, the light gently pouring in through the blinds, I was just barely on the cusp of wakefulness when I heard the phone ringing. It was still early, but there was an urgency in me when I heard the ring. I jumped out of bed ran down the stairs to grab the phone before it stopped. I got it.

On the phone his voice thick with gruffness was my son. He was calling from the hospital he said. He had been jumped and beaten up and had been in the hospital all night. Could I pick him up??? He was in the Oshawa Hospital. I tried to question him, did he know where exactly he was in the hospital so I would know where to get him? He didn't know, or seem to be clear at all, muffled curses streamed from his mouth. I said of course I would come. I was strangely calm.

I ran upstairs to quickly dress and wake up hubby to tell him I was going to the hospital. I also called some of my friends, for support and for their prayers.

I went to the hospital. They didn't have any record of him being there. They checked two more hospitals in the area, no one by my son's name. No John Doe's of his age or description. A coldness gripped my heart. I fought back the panic.

I went outside to make some calls on my cell. I called hubby, asked him to call the Scarborough hospitals. I called my son's girlfriend's house where he is presently staying. I am on their not favorite list now, so they did not pick up - but I left a message relaying the situation and desperately begging them to call me back it they had any information at all. A minute or so later his girlfriend's mother called me. She said they had had a message from my ex-husband that my son was in Toronto Western Hospital, I thanked her and called my hubby to call them and confirm that that was indeed where he was. And he was there. Not too long after that my son called, wondering where I was...I think he must have been concussed and confused when he called me the first time. I assured him I would come and get him.

I called my girlfriend and made arrangements for our daughter. I didn't know what condition our son would be in and didn't want her to be upset any more than she already would be knowing that he had been hurt. Thank God for my friends.

Hubby would come with me downtown, to drive in what is such unfamiliar territory and for moral support now that we had our daughter taken care of.

Another call from my son. It was taking a lot of time for us to get there and he is impatient. But you see they had closed down the express lanes and we had to detour south and pick up the Don Valley Parkway from another route.

He told me what had happened...he had gone to a club, left the club, more than rather worse for the wear. Taken a cab but realized that he did not have enough money, so the cabby made him get out of the cab. Being more than a little intoxicated he didn't see it coming - he was grabbed thrown done on the sidewalk, kicked in the face and robbed. He remembers little of that, only waking up people around him, he doesn't remember how he got to the hospital. I listen murmuring sounds of muted horror. I hate this. This is not the first time he has been beaten up. I am locked in a tunnel of calm, maybe even shock. Soon enough, we turn the corner and with him still on the phone, I tell him we are there. Hubby waits in front of the hospital, I get out and look for him. I see him and call his name. He comes towards me. His lips are badly swollen and cut, his nose is broken and bruised. We walk together to the van quietly talking.

He is safe. He is in one piece. He is alive. For this I am thankful. For this I am glad.

He makes light of the situation. "I'm only young once," he says. But at what cost is he expending this youth? This time rich with opportunity, with gifts of personality, strength of will, determination. All, I think, wasted. All his choices. For this I grieve; intensely and completely. Canyon deep, ocean wide....nothing contains this sorrow.

And yet I am able to step back. Play Pollyanna's game. I am glad that he is once again, safe, another narrow miss I think, but still it could have been much, much worse. I am glad that he has the gift of another day, another chance. I am glad we had some time together, in the van, he from the backseat, reaching over and occasionally rubbing my head, seeing that I am upset and trying to comfort me. I reaching back and patting him, reassuring him of my love. I am glad that he called me, that we connected.

I am deeply tired and sad. Yet what I have learned is that the pain we feel when we are hit by hard times is part of the happiness as a whole. We watch the suffering of those we love, whether by their own foolishness, or by life's cruel strokes, and we enter into their pain. It becomes our own. Yet we know that we cannot let the pain swallow us. If we do we too are
lost adrift on the sea. Rudderless, with no purpose. Yet purpose surely exists. There is tomorrow. A fresh new day. Full of wonders. Full of sunshine, and yes, full of storms.

I breathe in fully. My life is a gift. God-given. Each moment counted in tears and in laughter. I lift my voice in gratitude. I am here and tomorrow brings new mercies. I believe this with all of my heart. There are people to laugh with, people who willingly will also weep with me. There are people to love. Barriers to be broken down. Prayers waiting breathlessly to be answered.

There is most of all - hope.

And hope opens the door to happiness.

My Happiness Project -Sunday report - Pollyanna and me...

This week I experimented with gratefulness.

Each day I searched through my mind and the events of the day and worked on coming up with 5 things to be grateful/thankful for.

It was an exercise that taught me something. You can find things to be grateful for even if you've had a rotten day. It all depends on your focus.

Really, it was much like the renowned Pollyanna's glad game. Pollyanna is of course, the fictional character from Eleanor H. Porter's books. She is the child of missionaries who had been taught by her father to play the Glad Game, in which one goes about "finding something to be glad about in every situation." He had started the game with her when in a missionary barrel all that there was for her was a pair of crutches. There were no toys, no dolls, yet her father instructed her to "be glad" that she didn't need the crutches and so turned the potentially sad turn of events into something positive. This became a lifelong lesson that Pollyanna practiced and also taught those around her the value of looking for the proverbial "silver lining in every cloud."

Pollyanna has been mocked by many...but really, her outlook is a gift we all could use. It doesn't mean ignoring or denying the negative or awful things in our lives, it simply is resetting our focus and finding the good that can be found if we will indeed look for it. As Pollyanna's author said, "When you look for the bad in mankind (or in your life/or your situation- my words ) expecting to find it, you surely will!"

Will you be a bee or a vulture? Bees buzz around looking for the beautiful flowers, getting the pollen to carry so more beauty can be spread. Vultures fly around, circling in the air looking for the death and decay. Both the bee and the vulture find what they are looking for. So it is with me...it's all in my perspective.

What will I choose?

I think from this week's experiment with gratitude, I'll keep up with my own version of Pollyanna's glad game. I will choose to look for the things I can be grateful for...

It follows then, that I will be, well, happier.

Calling all Pollyanna's...

Join me.

Yesterday's Thankful list

1) O.K. you can never be too thankful for more beautiful days!!! Sunshine - ah, you gotta love it...and it's warm too...personally, I'm less fond of cold bright days...

2) Visit with MIL who then babysat for us.

3) A date with my hubby!!! Out to a movie, Knight and Day, great movie btw, then out for a bite to Mr. Greek.

4) For my husband who actually initiated this date!!!

5) Sitting out on the deck with hubby just chatting and drinking tea in the morning.

What I'm thankful for today...

1) Another glorious day, filled with sunshine, warmth and good times.

2) A refreshing, invigorating swim, splashing and playing in the water with my hubby, daughter and her friend.

3) My friend's generosity in allowing us to swim in their pool, which is in a beautiful backyard, full of mature trees, flowers of many variety and color. Lovely!

4) Homemade shortcake with fresh Ontario strawberries, loaded with whipped cream...oh yeah...yumilious...(I do enjoy baking and eating too!!! ;) ).

5) Watching the inspiring movie Invictus...go, rent it, it's thought provoking and it's real life...wow...

Symbols for My Life

A few days ago Gretchen Rubin of the Happiness Project sent an e-mail to subscribers and asked about symbols. Apparently, Buddists have 9 symbols and Gretchen decided she would come up with her own. She asked us what symbols we would choose for our lives.

I was intrigued by this question and turned the thought over and over in mind. Here are the symbols I thought of for my life -

1) Books - they represent imagination, learning, pleasure and delight.

2) Teddy bears - for me, they are connotative of comfort, gentleness and affection.

3) Water - it is life-giving, renewing, energizing and refreshing.

4) Roots - home, steadfastness, nourishment, stability and security.

5) Triangle - deep connections with - God, my family, and my friends.

6) Pen - flow of creativity, an expression of life.

7) Trees - flexibility, withstand most of the time the winds of life, bend but usually do not break, strength as they grow.

8) Doors - opportunities, options, alternatives, can open up or close out.

9) The Book (Bible) - beliefs, an anchor, a test to measure life.

If you had to pick some symbols for your life what would they be???

Canada Day -Yesterday

Yesterday was Canada Day.

A day to celebrate our country, our freedom, the beauty that surrounds us.

1) I'm thankful to live in Canada, to be able to express myself, my thoughts, my feelings, my beliefs without fear of reprisal.

2) I'm thankful for friends to celebrate with, to enjoy great food, good conversation, and the warmth of laughter and connection.

3) I'm thankful for parties! The get togethers. The fun shared and multiplied. This may seem the same as number two, but maybe I'm just doubly thankful...

4) I enjoyed the fireworks, sitting in the park surrounded by my hubby, little girl, her little friend and our friends; watching the cascades of colors like waterfalls from the skies, the music reverberating as the colors explode around us.

5) Finally, I'm thankful for the rest that comes when I get home full of a day rich with flavours of every kind, climb into to bed, curl up and float away in my dreams.

Today's List

1) I enjoyed the first day of summer holidays with my daughter.

2) I am feeling better today.

3) I'm thankful for our jaunt to the library to prowl through the stacks and bring home new books/treasures to discover.

4) I enjoyed reading one of my library books and made some popcorn to munch on while reading.

5) I am thankful for a quiet evening.

6) I enjoyed my relaxing yoga workout this evening.

I'm Thankful

1) I'm thankful for a beautiful day, sun shining, blue skies.

2) I'm grateful for a comfortable bed to rest on while I'm in the throes of a nasty headache.

3) I'm thankful for people who care about how I'm feeling today.

4) I'm grateful for ice-packs to put on my throbbing temples.

5) I'm thankful that tomorrow is another day, one that I'm hoping will be pain free.

Gratitude Week...or finding 5 things to be thankful for...

As a part of my happiness project each day for the next week I will post things 5 things I am grateful or thankful for that happened that day...

So - today's list -

1)I am grateful that even though I felt really unwell and yucky today, I still did 5 miles, my yoga, three loads of laundry and made dinner!

2) I am thankful that my husband bought the gift cards for the teachers as I was unable to get out of the house...thanks, my love!

3) My daughter got over her extreme (and we're talking crying, hysteria and weeping, wailing and moaning) nerves and was able to perform part of her tap dance in her class. Way to go sweet girl!

4) I am thankful for flushing toilets on each floor of the house..."nuff said."

5) I am so grateful for a wonderful, and long overdue conversation with a very dear friend!

Happiness Project...

I love the feeling of accomplishment, it makes me feel happy.

So, all my life I've known the importance of exercise...it's good for your body, good for your soul, good for your spirit.

It activates the endorphins in your brain. It's that feel good chemical that gets fired up when you crank up the work-out.

Why then, didn't I do it??? The optimism of youth? Laziness? Couldn't care less? Lack of discipline? Probably, at different times, all or any of the above...but now I've aged...oooh scary thought.

My dearest Dad died of heart disease. My brother had a heart attack at the age of 48. There is heart disease in aunts and uncles of mine. However, none of this had ever made a difference.

I would exercise every now and then, very sporadicly, go like crazy and then give up. But over the past few months I've been watching my friends. One of them works full-time outside of the home, she gets up at 5 a.m. to exercise before she goes to work! For some reason, after talking to her, something kicked in, I was suddenly motivated. Another friend, a stay at homer like myself has been consistently exercising for a couple of years, and this too, motivated me.

Gretchen Rubin, in her Manifesto of Happiness says that "the body matters." I think this is true. As women, we are particularly prone to self-criticism when it come to our physical bodies. Our culture as a whole is brutally cruel. We are constantly bombarded with female "perfection," and Hollywood gives us glaring examples of how that perfectionism is portrayed. We see fake boobs, faces lifted almost beyond recognition, bodies thin and often emaciated. Magazine covers boast beautiful faces, no wrinkles or lines, perfect skin, perfect hair. It's tough to be a woman.

And then, there are women like you and me. We are not perfect. We see our lines and our imperfections. We struggle with weight issues, or whether what we have is "big" enough or "small" enough. The funny thing is history tells us different stories, there was a time when thin was not "in." Even today, in some countries, generous, full figures are the "it" shapes.

So, I think that happiness comes when we, finally, accept the body we're in, when we come to fully appreciate our individual uniqueness. When the glow we have comes from the beauty that shines within through all our seeming imperfections.

In that acceptance, also comes the recognition that my body is a gift. In it I live and move and have my being. My body also houses my spirit, it is the eternal part of me; through it I love my family, work at the things I love, affect change in and around my world. In caring for my body, I care for myself, for my family, for my world.

I think perhaps, that this (along with watching my friends) is what pushed me to begin to exercise and to become consistent doing it. I want to be here, for my family, for my children, my friends. I want to be healthier, to feel fully alive. I want to rid myself of the blues that sometimes hang over me like a dark, threatening cloud. I want to have energy, verve and joy in everyday living. I think I can do this better when I am fit.

So, as of July 1, I will have been exercising for a full 6 months, at least 4-6 times a week! This is an enormous accomplishment. I feel much better, I enjoy (most days) getting up, putting on that work-out garb and doing my thing.

Revel in your body, rejoice in it, exercise it, move it; get up, walk, jump, hop, dance, skip. Be happy.

This is your life, lived in your body; live it to the fullest!

Fame

Yesterday, I took my iced coffee out onto the deck to sit with hubby.

In a hushed voice he told me that two doors down our neighbor who happens to be a drummer was being filmed/interviewed in his backyard.

Like a curious voyeur I peeked over our BBQ and peered through the curtain of our flowered hanging baskets. I called our daughter out and she too spied on our neighbor, watching the process with delight. She struck a pose in case somehow she would get in the picture and be on T.V. We laughed with her, smiling at her antics.

From time to time we would stand up and look over and report to one another about what was going on. We watched our famous neighbor kicking back in his chair, gesticulating, imitating drumming motions, then talking with his hands.

It's hard to decipher what fame has given him other than notoriety. His marriage has ended in divorce and his son is rather wild right now. But that could be any of us and often is.

Upon reflection I decided my life is good even with its attending heartaches. I have no need for fame. I've suffered the same blows as my neighbor, first marriage ending in divorce, a son on the wild side.

That's it I think - there are the common realities that we all experience regardless of who we are. I want to be satisfied with my life, even happy. If I constantly compare myself to "the Jones", I only end up with a nagging dissatisfaction or a raging greed to better my circumstances, so there is no contentment. And contentment, I think is a good thing, whoever, and wherever I am.

20/20 My Happiness Project

This past week I lost my voice (I contracted laryngitis) and it was a thought-provoking experience. Usually, when I am not speaking to someone, it is, I'm sad to say because I am angry, or ticked off. Or perhaps I've been hurt by someone so I retreat into a cave of silence, build walls of distance as thick as concrete and as seemingly impenetrable.

But this forced quiet brought me a curious sense of peace. It taught me the value of quietude.

I was happy, reflective.

I could not engage in any conflict that took place between my husband and daughter. I had to remain an observer, somewhat detached from the intense emotion of the moment, the energy pulsating around me did not draw me in.

Certainly, I missed the laughter, the joking, the day to day discourse normally shared with my family. I missed talking with my friends. I found I had to "save up," like money collecting in the bank, the things that I wanted to pass on or the events that had happened.

But the quiet gave me the time to let my thoughts come together with clarity, to sort through issues that had been been pressing in on me. Piling my thoughts like laundry, separating the dark, somber thoughts from the contrasting white ones, loading the gentle softer colors into different baskets, giving each thought a context, a place. This is the gift of quiet.

My sister-in-law once gave me a framed picture of a photograph that she had taken. It is of a treed path, sunshine casting lights on that path as it goes into the distance. It is tranquil, inviting, and filled with mystery. Perhaps, you hear the song-bird, or the trees rustling in the wind. You feel the cool of the covered path and the warmth caressing you as you walk through the rays of sunshine. This is happiness of quiet.

Then there is the quiet happiness of being. Together. Sitting together reading, engrossed in a good book, the spider web of words weaving tales of history, intrigue, tragedy, love, mystery or romance. Being outside on our deck side by side drinking a homemade iced coffee; soaking up the sights, sounds and smells of our neighborhood. Watching the creamy clouds skittering across the blues of the skies. Hearing the trees in wind, seeing them swaying gently to a music all of their own. Inhaling the sweet fragrance of our lilac trees. Listening to lawns being mowed, fresh smells the grass newly cut. Curling up in our family room, watching old movies or old TV series that we've collected, laughing or crying or being caught up in the stories being told. Eating popcorn, richly buttered, warm and lightly salted, these are moments of quiet happiness indeed.

The happiness of quiet is in the dark velvet blanket of the sky with glittering, twinkling stars. It is knowing in the quietness that there is surely Someone bigger than me, that the Heavens though sometimes also silent, have answers and that the questions that are constellations of doubt will one day be swept away by the look of absolute Love.

In quietness we learn to listen, really listen. We learn to hear what isn't being said.

I am enthralled by all I have to learn, to discover...it makes me, happy.

Shhh....listen with me to all that the quiet has to teach us about happiness.

Sunday - My Happiness Project

I went downtown this past Monday, a trip to Yorkville with my girlfriend. This adventure made me, by the way, happy...

As we were meandering through the shops we saw all manner of fun "stuff" and in a paper store we found cocktail napkins with sayings that made us giggle and guffaw. I found one napkin set and exclaimed to my friend "Look at this, have you got paper?, a pen???? I have to write this down for my blog on happiness." The cocktail napkin quoted Ben Franklin as saying "Wine is proof God loves us and want us to be happy." Well, I hooted over that one!

Happiness that day was drunk with the wine of the sunshine, of the conversation, of the laughter, and even of the serious moments, of the deep connection with my very dear friend.

It was a good day, a day to be remembered, and treasured. A day of happiness to packed in my trunk of memories to be brought out and reveled over on a darker day.

As I sit here mulling this over, I am thinking that perhaps that is part of the secret of happiness. Perhaps, happiness is a beautiful necklace, stored in a box of some kind, that has been beaded one by one with beautiful jewels, exquisite jewels, placed ever so lovingly on the necklace of my life, to brought out and enjoyed.

The pearls of happiness strung on my necklace have come from irritating, seemingly unending circumstances that I had thought I could not bear, but upon retrospect have brought the happiness of knowing that I am perhaps a wiser and gentler person because of those very irritations.

The diamonds of happiness on my necklace are the perplexing, crushing loads that have brought me great and deep despair, but yet have yielded I hope, the sparkle of compassion and kindness to others.

The aquamarines on my necklace blue with the delight of happiness I feel when I swimming, splashing, and laughing with the ones I love. The feeling of rolling over onto my back and gazing into the magnificent azure of the sky dotted with fluffy clouds imitating anything your imagination can conjure up.

The green of emeralds. Solid, enduring, life-giving friendships. Each one unique, and precious; some come and gone, some grown stronger, forged through immense pain and great euphoria never to fade as a distant memory.

The incredible deep blue of sapphires. My tears, rivers, oceans of them...wept for myself, my children, my family, my friends, and the world. Didn't a great Book once say that those that sow in tears will reap in joy! Tears are jewels of both our sorrow and our happiness embedded into our very beings.

The murky quiet beauty of an opal. White with glints of pink and blue almost pearl-like but more colorful than that. The opal is the mystery in my life, the not knowing, the whys, and the hard, granite questions. The glints of color, the pinks and the blues and the zig-zag of gold weaving patterns through the opal - is the happiness of knowing that I don't really, really have to know the whys and wherefores after all, and that I can live with happiness in the midst of mysteries. I may not always like the mystery, but I can be happy nevertheless.

The ruby, blood red and brilliant.
Family. My heart and soul are poured into these so very dear to me. They bring me the most spectacular happiness and the most devastating grief. This is a jewel I would never be without, no matter what the attending sorrow. The joys, the connections, the bonds; these have stretched over time, distance and circumstance of every kind. Almost wordless are the feelings I have for my family. In my family I find love, deep and strong. In my family I find meaning, laughter, and pure joy. There are at times fierce anger and moments of conflict so quake-deep it seems beyond repair, yet repair it does. This jewel glitters on my necklace most brightly I think.

So I think I'll end here...hang this necklace on my neck, not tuck it away....remind myself of all the jewels of happiness that I have.

I am a rich woman.

What about you?

Sunday Challenge for 20/20 - My Happiness Project

I am on a journey. A journey to happiness.

So, let the challenge begin!

Happiness can be mine...oh yes, it can...

But how to start???

Well, I did go out and purchase the book "The Happiness Project" by Gretchen Rubin as she is the one who got me thinking "happy" in the first place. And I have pondered and thought and pondered and thought some more.

To begin with, I will post a quote from Gretchen's "Happiness Toolbox" (found on her website), called the "Happiness Manifesto." These points will be things that I will be considering as I craft my days around the thoughts of happiness.

"A Happiness Manifesto

• To be happy, you need to consider feeling good, feeling bad, and feeling right, in an atmosphere of growth.
• One of the best ways to make yourself happy is to make other people happy; One of the best ways to make other people happy is to be happy yourself.
• The days are long, but the years are short.
• You're not happy unless you think you're happy.
• Your body matters.
• Happiness is other people.
• Think about yourself so you can forget yourself.
• "It is easy to be heavy: hard to be light."—G. K. Chesterton
• What's fun for other people may not be fun for you, and vice versa.
• Best is good, better is best.
• Outer order contributes to inner calm.
• Happiness comes not from having more, not from having less, but from wanting what you have.
• You can choose what you do, but you can't choose what you like to do.
• "There is no duty we so much underrate as the duty of being happy." —Robert Louis Stevenson
• You manage what you measure."

Interesting thoughts, eh??? (Ah, I'm so Canadian, eh, and incidentally that makes me "happy"...hee, hee...) I am blessed to enjoy the privileges we have in this country.

This week, I thought about my attitude, the way I see the world from day to day. I asked myself this question, "On what am I focusing my thoughts?" "Am I thinking happy thoughts, good thoughts, pleasant thoughts, uplifting thoughts...or is my FOCUS negative???"

I cannot and will not be in denial, pretend that everything is wonderful if it is not. I will not play that kind of game. However, it is in my power to shift my thoughts away from the things that bring me down. It is also in my power, to express those things (the sad, heart-rending, soul-bending things) so that I can be free to breathe in and to partake in the happiness that is there waiting for me to enjoy. Things of which I am often not even aware.

My beloved sister had sent me, years ago, some pages from a treasure, a little book called "Telling Secrets" by Frederich Buechner. He addresses this lack of awareness: "Consider...those dwarves in C.S. Lewis's The Last Battle. They are huddled togehter in what they think is a cramped, dark, stable where, like the dungeon of the Little Ease, there is hardly any room to move or breathe. The truth of it, you will remember, is that they are not in any such place at all. Instead they are in the midst of an endless green meadow where the sun is shining and the sky is blue. Aslan himself stands there offering them refreshments and freedom from their self-imprisonment, the great golden Lion who moves through Lewis's fairytale the way the fierce power of God moves through our world of Cowardly Lions - to be called "Dear heart" by whom is an everlasting blessing... But the dwarves see none of this. About all they can is is each other.

Now transform that scene. It is not Lewis's dwarves who are gathered together. It is people very much like you and me."

As Gretchen says, in her Manifesto - "you are not happy unless you think you are happy."

So this week, I gathered my wandering thoughts, as dogs nipping at the heels of horses running wild. I corralled those thoughts and turned them to happiness. I do not want to be one of those dwarves who cannot see the beauty right in front of them. And it made a difference, it really did... There were far more moments and far more hours where there was the light, delightful feeling of happiness. Because I thought I was happy I felt happy...

There are, still, of course, concerns and burdens. But in the midst of all that worries me, freaks me out, causes me to grieve deeply and completely, light is breaking through.

Let me share another quote by Buechner that has been so helpful...

"This...was a rule that I had no less devastatingly laid down for myself, and it was this: that I had no right to be happy unless the people I loved - especially my children - were happy too. I have come to believe that is not true. (Me here: this was a riveting insight and one that after years of having these pages sent to me I can finally begin to believe...) I believe instead that we all of us have not only the right to be happy no matter what but also a kind of scared commission to be happy - in the sense of being free to breathe and to move, in the sense of being able to bless our own lives, even the sad times of our own lives, because through all our times we can learn and grow, and through all our times, if we keep our ears open, God speaks to us his saving word....I have come to believe that to be happy inside ourselves - to be less and less as the years go by in the dungeon the the Little Ease and more and more in still chapel where beyond all understanding there is peace - is in the long run the the best we can do both for ourselves and for the people closet to us."

!!! Did you catch that last phrase!??!!
Being happy is a gift I give myself and I can give it to those I love.

So join me on this journey.

This journey of happiness.

Life is like a Bowl of Mangoes

Mangoes are juicy, sweet, rich and firm. You bite into them and immediately you are transported.

There is pleasure, delight, you can feel the warmth of the sun.

If you cut into one too soon though, it is sour, bitter; you want to spit it right out and never taste it again.

Life is like a bowl of mangoes, sometimes sweet and rich, sometimes bitter and sour.

But when it's good, it's good.

Just like life, good or bitter.

Just like mangoes.

Sunday Challenge for 20/20

My niece, blogger, Luna Pie decided to start her own project...20 weeks, loose 20 pounds...

So, she issued a invitation for fellow bloggers, friends, relatives etc. to join in some kind of challenge ourselves and she made several suggestions.

At first I though I would do 20 book recommendations. But on deeper reflection, I thought that for me, it would be the "easy" way out or in to the project... Reading is something I love to do and I've probably read thousands of books in my life time. So finding 20 more or even reporting on 20 that I loved while interesting didn't really offer me a significant challenge.

When I was out west visiting my sister in March she took me to her Book Club. They were discussing a book, "The Happiness Project" by Gretchen Rubin. In it she explores happiness, how to get it, how to keep it and so on. Having not read the book but intrigued by the subject I listened reflectively to the conversation swirling around me. I came to a rather shocking conclusion. At least it was shocking to me.

Happiness is not even something I have considered much in my life; not even as an option.

I am very familiar with the concepts of suffering and of joy. I grew up learning about and talking about suffering. I grew up learning about the concept of joy; not just everyday joy, but biblical joy.

I turned to my sister and said, "we weren't taught to be happy were we, or even that being happy is O.K.???" She agreed.

Now, don't get me wrong, my parents were, in my opinion, wonderful. Not perfect by any stretch of the imagination; but loving, thoughtful, genuinely caring people. And I do think that they liked us to be "happy." But the object of our lives, so I grew up believing both in church and at home was that holiness was more important than happiness. Holiness was being "like Jesus;" which is a great idea; but I don't think that a serious, unhappy Jesus is the Jesus that is the Jesus of the Bible.

Certainly, He suffered, immensely, greatly, incomparably. But I also think that He laughed, danced and enjoyed life. He made wine at a wedding for goodness sakes. And He had not just joy, but ordinary, everyday happiness.

I have certainly suffered in my life; physically, emotionally, mentally; all of it. I have had flashes of joy, laughter and delight.

But I wouldn't say I have been particularly happy, nor have I ever made it point to try to be happy.

Now I know that there are no guarantees in life. Suffering, can and does come, to all of us.

I have seen my dear friend's daughter contract leukemia at the age of 10 months and die at the age of three. My own sweet wee niece died when she was five years old, oh, the agony of the that. My beloved son, who was such a longed for, long awaited child and who is so very dearly loved, has veered of the straight path into a life lived largely to his own destruction. I've been divorced. Our darling daughter has numerous learning disabilities. Another so very much loved niece in her late twenties, is, courageously, bravely, fighting cancer. Sometimes, there is just too much pain.

But there is happiness too. And I mean to find it. Yes, to actually pursue it.

Not that I am a miserable person, I do so love to have fun and to laugh. But I am coming to believe that happiness can and should be something that I can and will look for.

So my 20/20 project, will be my own "happiness project." For 20 weeks I will look for and I will find 20 "somethings" that make me the everyday kind of happy.

It is a challenge that I can sink my teeth into, look forward to.

And that makes me feel, well, happy.

Headaches

My head hurts.

I want to crawl away, curl up and tunnel down.

I want sleep to come, to give relief.

I want the pain to end.

Hormones

Hormones.

They take you up, they take you down.

They fling you all around.

I hate hormones.

Friends

I love my friends.

They are part of the essence of who I am.

My friends listen to me; cry with me, laugh, giggle and have glorious fun with me.

At times my friends anchor my sanity.

They let me know when I am way out of line, in a gentle but definitive way. That takes courage and I love them for that.

My friends affirm me; encourage me, lift me to a place of growth. They are a source of incredible support.

Without my friends I think that I would have faded into nothingness by now...

My friends are breath to me when I feel I cannot go on. They are connection and warmth and joy.

My friends are loyal and fierce and believe in me no matter what.

What a gift I have.

My friends.

I love you.

Blue

Time drags it's feet.

My heart sinks. I'm filled with an ineffable longing.

I want...

So much.

How much grief can one heart hold and not split into a million fragments, slivered with pain. Glass slicing through the warm sun and the beautiful day. My heart in ribbons blowing in the wind.

You would think that on a day brilliant with sunshine, I would be lifted up...but I feel the darkness closing in. Tears choke in the back of my throat and wet my eyes, I blink them away.

For all the dreams I had a as young Mother, I now have failure, bleakness, time stretching ahead, a desert dry and stark with sorrow.

Tears stream now there is no stopping them. I am bereft. The pain takes over. A monster clawing at my chest.

How long...how long before there is fruition to my wailing, desperate prayers?

Still, I will NOT ever, ever give up.

NOT ever, ever give up hoping.

NOT ever, ever give up praying.

NOT ever, ever give up waiting.

For through the darkness, the Light of the world shines.

And for all the things I am not certain of, this I believe: that God hears my crying and my groaning. He holds me as I weep. He does answer prayer, in His time and in His way.

This I believe, this I will cling to.

So hold me, sweet Jesus in this darkness, hold me.

The Zoo

Today we went to the zoo.

What is your favorite animal???

We saw lions, tigers, polar bears, flamingos, snowy owls, arctic foxes, black and tan spotted jaguars, gorillas, monkeys, white wolves, on and on the list goes.

My favorite was the jaguars. The black one with it's glistening coat, pacing back and forth, back and forth. You can sense that if it could, it would've pounced!

It was so very, very hot...The sun, bright and blazing. The sky, piercing blue.

Now I don't do so well in the heat...I start to get well, quite honestly, grumpy... And for an outing, that is supposed to be "fun," grumpy doesn't cut it.

My little girl kept asking me, "Mommy, are you happy???"

Happy?, goodness, I was HOT, flaming, hot.

Then we would go on a path that was shaded. A canopy of trees and a sweet, gentle breeze. That's my kind of happy.

My other favorite animal in the zoo is people...

I love to watch people; their interactions, their families, their clothing, just look... I find people fascinating.

"Mommy," my daughter asked as we were wandering through the zoo and she would see that I was distracted, "what are you doing?" "I'm people watching," I'd reply. "Mom! you shouldn't stare." "I'm not staring, I'm looking..." I would laugh.

Couples, walking hand in hand. Children, racing by. One child fell, and great crying and carrying on ensued. Then there was the comforting, the shushing, the patching up...

Families were sitting on blankets eating their picnic lunches. Another family group, arguing. More people meandering by, taking the day to be together and to get the kids out of the house for pity's sake!

Hubby, meanwhile is our tour guide, and we are to "follow" him. So, follow we do and after three hours we are tired and ready to go home.

But there is one last stop, the gift shop.

This is one of our daughter's favorite places at the zoo. She has birthday money and is itching to spend it. So in we go, up one aisle and down the other. Finally, she decides on a beautiful soft, fluffy polar bear and a tube of plastic animals.

She has always loved animals so we are not at all surprised with her choices. She is happy and we are content that our trip to the zoo has ended well.

A Song...

Only have One
by JJ and David Heller

"Nobody knows which way you'll go
I can't control you
I pray tomorrow is brighter than today

I should not try to live two lives
I only have one
I only have one
You have yours and I have mine
We only have one life

I watch you make the same mistake
You learn the hard way
I pray tomorrow you will hear
What love has to say

I should not try to live two lives
I only have one
I only have one
You have yours and I have mine
We only have one life

I try to hold you with an open hand
You run away
You're faster than I am
I can lead you to the water
But I cannot make you drink
Is it too much to ask for you
To simply stop and think

I should not try to live two lives
I only have one
I only have one..."

A Severe Mercy

Some things that happen in life are severe mercies.

You pray and you pray and you pray for a person and then something awful happens. You are stunned, drop kicked in the gut. You reel in horror.

In retrospect though, you can see that the situation, if left to its natural conclusion or allowed to go on and on would have brought even graver consequences.

So today, I am thankful for the severe mercy God allowed in the life of one I love so very, very much.

It could have been so, so much worse.

Your mercies, O Lord, are new every day; even if it takes us a while to recognize them.

Relief...and thoughts on Authenticity

Relief lightens the load...

I float like a butterfly, delicate and airy, lighting on the flowers of hope and happiness.

Laughter comes much more easily, tension leaks out draining the wound of wondering.

Quietly, though, I ponder tragedy and the role it so often plays in all of our lives. We are "supposed" to have peace no matter what our circumstances and I have always wondered about that.

I am frail, fraught with every emotion given as gifts to the human race. The gift of feeling and yes, acknowledging the very potent emotions that often swirl around us tornado like, does not fit the system I have often been taught to subscribe to.

Frankly, I hate pretense. The masks I am subtly told to wear, make me rebellious. I will not comply with this show of "perfection" or of being what some believe is a good "Christian."

I long for authenticity. To be who I am: fears, angers, joys, griefs, and hidden complexities. All of this, and also a fierce belief in a God who doesn't want me to be a phony makes me thumb my nose at convention.

I will not be a cookie cutter person.

I think we are longing for reality. To know that who we are, in all our joys and all our griefs is greatly valued by God.

The gift we can give each other is the freedom to know and to be known. To love one another because of and in spite of our many good points and our glaring weaknesses.

And to know that we are loved by a tender, loving, Almighty God just as we are is gift we can give ourselves.

This doesn't mean there is no room for personal growth, but that this growth is carved out in careful thoughtfulness and not in playing the game. This is what I think makes growth real, tangible, touchable and even attainable.

Peace will come and it will sometimes desperately desert us.

But we can plant our feet in the soil of authenticity knowing that as we experience the great expanse of emotions God created us to have we no longer have to be afraid to express those feelings or to let those feelings be woven into the stories of our lives.

And that brings me great relief.

Good Days...

Good days unfold like the spring sunshine warming us after the cold, cold winter.

They start with a gentle awakening, drowsy with sleep, eyes half mast, holding the hand of the one I love.

I get and up greet the day. I pull on my workout clothes and head down to exercise, "walk, walk, walk." I love this newfound routine (now on my fourth month). The blood pumps through my veins and I am invigorated. I am building up strength and becoming more fit. It feels good.

Saturday morning breakfasts. They are a family affair. No rushing to get out the door. We just talk and work together, usually we make bacon and some kind of eggs. Our daughter's favorite is pancakes but this morning we are going for eggs over-easy, bacon and grits (grits are hubby's favorite and hearken back to days of his grandmother living with them.) Grandma (hubby's grandma) was originally from Florida and this is definitely a southern twist to our Canadian breakfast.

Today is our daughter's party day. This is the day she celebrates with friends. So streamers have been hung, balloons blown up, party chips and pop purchased. A friend has made an "Animal Crossing" cake for her. I go to meet her husband to pick up the cake. It is lovely and has been carefully packed for transportation purposes. I drive home oh so carefully, turning corners gingerly so as to not overturn this beautiful creation.

Unlike Monday, the sense of the frantic, hurry, hurry is not here. All that we have to do is measured, sure, relaxed. Hubby takes daughter to Tap lessons, while I stay home to put the finishing touches on decorations and food preparations. Last minute cleaning is done and we're ready.

The friends arrive one by one and the party goes off well... I congratulate myself silently, we've had games, crafts, food and lots of fun. I am pleased about this. It is good to celebrate and nothing mars the day.

One friend stays behind. She'll be here for a sleepover. Hubby and I clean up and then we are able to relax, put up our feet and read together. The kids play happily in the basement. Hubby dozes off and I enjoy my book.

It's been a good day. And I am grateful.

Waiting and Uncertainty

Fear screeches, squealing brakes, racing around the corners of my mind.

I am waiting for results and having successfully dismissed the implications heretofore, am no longer blissfully tamped down, and the fire of uncertainty licks at my feet.

I had a endoscope awhile ago; down into my throat, through the esophagus and into my small intestines. The Doctor's immediate response was, no more ulcer, and that he took some biopsies.

Anyway, last week I got a call to go in for a follow-up. Now in my experience they usually don't call you back when everything is fine. But having to wait until this coming Monday and with my daughter's birthday, I was able to distract myself, turn the faucet of my thoughts right off.

Until last night.

I awoke, and then I started thinking. Big mistake. "What ifs" roll in like waves crashing on the sand of my life. I toss and turn, toss and turn. Sleep eludes me, fear taunts me.

I am not, I don't think, particularly brave. I like order, predictability and am not fond of change. I do not like physical suffering. I have had many, many long years of chronic pain and have lost days, missed big events, beautiful days and life in general. The threat of something bigger on the horizon makes me feel like there is a bully breathing down my neck and I cringe and shrink back.

I know intellectually that it may not be what I am fearing. It may be something that is easily dealt with...but emotionally, I am tense, keyed up, anxious.

I have lived long enough to know that all kinds of disease, suffering and tragedy happens every day, to myself, to those I love, to friends, acquaintances and strangers...There are no guarantees.

So in my waiting room I pace, thoughts chasing each other round and round the room.

I rein them in. What can I do, while I wait???

Well, I have also lived long enough to know other things too...that there are things that anchor me, things that still the boat being tossed on the water of my fears.

I know that I am loved deeply, intensely and personally by my Heavenly Father. I know that He has promised He will never leave me or forsake me. I know that He will not necessarily remove all obstacles, tragedies, or disease from my life (and most often I am not spared from these), but that He will most certainly sustain me, lift me up and comfort me.

He can, He will and He does weep with me.

He listens to me, while I rail in confusion, pain, anger or bewilderment. He takes my face in His hands and whispers to me, "I love you and what hurts you, hurts me. Come to Me little one, come to Me, let Me carry you."

So, I go, I run to that "throne of grace, to find help and mercy in time of need." I climb onto my Heavenly Father's lap, curl up into His arms and He rocks me, gently and tenderly.

Here is my Rock, here is my Refuge, here is my "very present help in time of need."

I am certain that He is with me, for now, for tomorrow and for all the days to come.

So, as I wait I tuck deeper into His arms and hold on tightly.

Planning, Parties, and Poop-outs

So, today was my daughter's birthday.

Picture a sweet girl, so filled with anticipation, so very, very happy that THE day has arrived. Off to school she goes, excited about telling everyone from the bus driver to the kids at school, "today is my birthday!!!"

Picture, me, the Mom...got to get everything done...feeling a little frenetic... Getting up earlier than usual to make the specially requested pancakes for breakfast. Get everybody out the door...start immediately preparing the African Chop, so I can put it in the crock pot to simmer the delectable flavors. Let the aromas waft through the house.

Then I get a call from hubby, he forgot his keys, can't get into his desk at work without them. Can I bring them??? Well-l-l-l yes, but I've got to complete a few things here first.

Deliver the keys, then I head off to the store, Hallmark first (forgot to buy her a card, for pity sakes!!), then to the grocery store to pick up some raspberries for the last minute request for raspberry pie, instead of birthday cake.

O.K. then, back home. Shoot, I've got to run upstairs and wrap the presents! Then back downstairs to start the pie, and pie crust, mix up the berries, hopefully not too tart, add more sugar...I make cheese bits, part of my pie making ritual; and eat them after they come out of the oven, warm, flaky and oh so cheesy. I don't tell anyone about this, usually they are a shared delicacy but today, I'm squirreling them away, treating myself to this secret delight. Mom always made cheese bits, so in my mind I toast her with them..."thanks Mom, I do this for you, because of you," memories of her homemade pies and cheese bits wind their way into my party preparations. This is one way we stay connected to those we have lost...carry on beloved traditions.

A spurt of cleaning has to be done now, vacuuming, spritzing up the downstairs bathroom, and some tidying. I have to get out the pretty tablecloth and placements. Now I'm really getting tense, time is a-ticking...the pressure is on. My MIL is arriving soon and I'd like it to look presentable and smell delicious when she walks through the door. (Yes, I STILL like to at least give her the illusion that I've got it all under control...oh sigh, oh sigh...)

She arrives, offers to help and I give her a job.

I busy myself with the final preparations, the "chopping" of all of the ingredients that go on top of the African Chop. I bought some beautiful coloured glass bowls the other day when I was shopping with my girlfriend that will look so pretty with everything in them. Again, a flashback to childhood days when my Mom had some lovely tulip dishes that we used especially for African Chop ingredients.

Hubby arrives and helps out with the chopping. Then he leaves to go get our son from work.

All in all, the dinner goes well. The birthday girl is happy with her dinner and pie. She loves her presents.

But she wants more... She wants time with her big brother, but he is on the computer and responds with less enthusiasm than she would like. Her face falls. Sadness etches itself into her sweet face.

Then as I'm cleaning up the dinner dishes and Daddy is setting up the birthday WII, Nana announces that she's leaving... she's gotta run...consequently our other party-pooper who also lives in Oshawa (he was impatient to go as well so it works out only too conveniently), has to get a ride with Nana and so the party comes to a rather abrupt end.

I get a disappointed clinging hug from my little girl who has learned too often that things are not always the way we would like them to be.

As her Mom and Dad we put on our "happy faces" and do our best to cheer her up, get her distracted with her gifts and the evening fades.

We have learned and keep on learning we cannot control anyone, or anything other than ourselves. Perhaps this is a lesson we can teach our daughter. Enjoy the moments, and try oh try to let go of the disappointments, pain and loss. Make the proverbial lemonade out of the lemons in life.

And always, always, keep on hoping. Keep on dreaming. Keep on believing.

Picture this: our family together, conflicts eased, relationships reconciled, rebellions released, not perfect certainly, but at least on the road to healing.

Now that's something to picture.

That's something to hope for.

The Family that Blogs together...

It seems so exciting to me.

Our family is blogging...

My nieces, my brother, and now me!!!!

My niece inspired me...she quoted Henri Nouwen in her blog, something about the value of each of us writing our own stories....

I've always loved to write; I've tinkered with it, toyed with it, and privately dreamed about the possibilities, the potential... Often, though, I stopped it up. Corked it.

I think I've secretly been afraid of what will come out. Sometimes, my thoughts and feelings are intense, overwhelming, not always pretty.

Surprisingly, however, this newfound blogging has made me feel free...

The wine of the words intoxicates.

The blood-letting of pent up feelings cleanses.

The crafting of a phrase delights.

It's out, not clanging around in my mind, not poisoning my outlook, the words written give expression, validation, confirmation.

What I am feeling, thinking, living and experiencing, these things are real, potent; this is me, this is my life. And it matters. The shadows of my thoughts don't drown me now in darkness, I can throw them out into the universe, release from their prison of quiet.

Oh, I can talk a lot and I do...to my gentle, understanding husband, to my dearest friends, to my trusted family members. But, there is, somehow, something almost indefinable about writing it down.

So, I was happy when I got a note from my brother telling me to check out his blog and I had to laugh, because today, being Mother's Day, he had written about our Mom. Weirdly enough, or maybe not so weirdly, I was thinking about writing something about Mom too...Family connections, wonderful.

I will then, say something about Mom.

I miss her so very, very much. She was the one who cared for us when we were sick. Her hands were always cool. I remember, her gently washing my face with a warm washcloth to make us feel better. She would come in and change our sheets saying we would feel better in a fresh bed.

She would read to us, sing to us, tell us stories, lie beside us before we went to sleep. She would pray with us. I loved it and I have tried to do the same with my children over the years.

She was always busy. She loved to cook and was a fine cook...we loved her biscuits. She taught us how to make African Chop although we all make it differently now. She was generously hospitable and had the gift of making everyone feel welcome.

Sometimes, though, she would stop everything and just read. Oh, she loved to read. Housework could wait when she was reading and she could loose herself in a good book very easily. All four of her children, all of us, love to read. Love it. She gave us that gift.

She taught us about Jesus, gentle Jesus, suffering Jesus, loving Jesus. Thank you Mom for that too.

I miss you Mom. Always.

So family, let's blog on...

And thank you dear niece for the inspiration.

Mother's Day

Happy.

Sad.

We celebrated Mother's Day today. One day early. Early so that my son could be here, he was working close to where we live and we thought it would work out better for everyone.

I was, I must admit, filled with a bit of trepidation.

Many unspoken words lie between us, the weight of which fills the air with white noise...always a low buzz in the background.

He feels, I think, that I have let him down, not been there for him.

From sheer force of survival, and I have to believe for his ultimate good, I've had to establish boundaries. Difficult ones, heart wrenching ones, splitting my very soul in two. One of the most piercingly painful ones just happened in the last month or so. I could not, indeed would not rescue him from the very severe consequences of his decisions.

The anguish of doing so, has bowed me low, brought deep grief knowing that he does not understand, yet, strangely, there is peace or acceptance anyway that what I have done was necessary. Though of course, contrarily, there is at times tortuous doubt. You know, that parental dialogue in our heads; should I have done this or should I have done that, what if I had...etc.etc.?????

Others stepped in and did the "rescuing"...hence, I fall into the category of "the bad guy."


He came; didn't go to work because of weather conditions. He went to be with friends first, and so arrived in a condition that was, shall we say, less than optimum. He pulled a gift out of a shopping bag, unwrapped and laid it on the table.


So, there was no card, a gift, yes, but no card. No words to express the depth of the bond between us, that, in spite of everything, there exists, like a beating drum, an incessant beat of love so strong that it keeps us in the dance of relationship.

This stung; (silly you may be thinking, over no card?) sending raging feelings of despair and love lost spiraling around
and around in my head.

Sensing my internal conflict, my husband gently kept coming to me, patting me on the back or giving me a hug. Yes, he is a good man...

Words are important to me, spoken ones and written ones...I love language, the tinkle of letters on the piano of life, the music of love, of despair, of grief, of joy, of gratitude...one note tumbling after another. This is how we tell each other what lurks in the depths of our souls or bursts out happily like a dancer from cake, words that speak of care, of affirmation, of anger and fear, of hopes, of dreams, or of hurts and of griefs almost wordless in their expanse.

I crave connection with those I love and feel keenly lost in the desert, hot and thirsty for contact when that connection is severed.

Anyway, as we opened the gifts, I joked about the card I received from him, opening my hands hymn-book like and reading a message imprinted there. He got it. He is, actually, a very sensitive young man, covered with a "tough" exterior and I know he feels so very deeply too...how I ache for him...

He stands up, "Mother," he says, "come here" and he gives me a great big hug, "I love you," we whisper one to another.

I feel relief. We are not whole and our relationship is layered with complication, but there is love.

Caught in all this drama is my other child. My daughter, 8 years younger than her brother. Here there is only what we call "normal" conflict. Unscathed by all that has transpired over the years she is not... She too, is sensitive and profoundly touched by her family circumstances.

But, she is excited...Mother's day is an "event"... crafts have been carefully worked and completed at school, brought home and proudly given and happily received. Then there are the secrets with her and Daddy planning for Mommy...

I love both of my children so intensely I feel that I could burst with anguish and joy of it all. Each has their own gifts to offer the world and each has their own challenges. How we navigate through all of this has been and continues to be the most devastatingly wondrous and painful thing we have ever traversed.

And so on I travel, stepping carefully through the land mine of parenting. We are filled with awe when we avoid the explosions of life, and shocked and filled with trauma when we step on a mine and life turns black as tar.

But always, always, we have hope. Hope that over the hill and around the bend there will be brighter days.

We celebrated Mother's day today.

Happy.

Sad.

Happy.

Memories

Memories are fascinating.

They seem to be alive; living breathing creatures.

A lovely memory wends it way into my mind...I pick it up and snuggle down into it. It's like clean laundry, warm, fragrant, and even comforting.

It makes me want to dance, smile, giggle or laugh. It infuses me with energy or makes me lazy with pleasure. I am lost in another time, another place.

Then, suddenly, another kind of memory invades...like a bullet fired it explodes into my chest, it's impact throwing me back against the wall. I look down and there is a gaping hole. Blood is flowing, fast and free.

I whimper, drop down, curl up...go away, go away. I run screaming down the corridors of my mind, horror licking at my heels. What torture this is, this remembering. I am lost in another time, another place.

Memories shape us, mold us, give us perspective. Is my world blue, sad, and dark; or is it rosy, cheery and sunny. Maybe, my world is gray, a nothingness, a monotony, one moment blending into another.

Whatever it does, it is powerful; creeping around the corner, an annoying sibling who jumps out to say "boo"!

It can render us helpless or enable us.

But, I think that memory is also a teacher. It can warn me. It can set a boundary. It can, if I let it, cause me to choose another path.

I choose what memory I focus on. I have this choice. And I can choose to walk away from memories good and bad.

I can leave the past behind, let it be my teacher and I can go forward.

Live my day. Take a deep breath. Love with all my heart. Cry an ocean if I need to. Whirl and twirl and laugh, oh laugh. Call a friend. Say a prayer. Watch the sun cast a glow in my garden. Listen to the rain as it falls.

Because, really, I am here, in this time, and in this place.

I wonder about this agony.

This separation.

Heart from heart.

How can I love a child so much and feel so disconnected at the same time.

Is he angry, is he hurting??? I think yes, is the answer.

I offer help and it is out-right rejected. So I am once again quiet, swallowing my words like bricks of pain into my very soul. They knock around, bring disquiet,
unease.

All this longing pours over me like rain, torrential rain. The wind of despair whips around my face getting caught in my eyes. Longing for him; to be whole again.

I wonder how it ever turned out this way. One choice led to another and to another... Lost in the vortex of choice, we are ripped apart from each other in a whirpool, drowning in words not spoken. Choking on words that never should have been said.

Two polar opposites, your life choices and the ones I wish for you, dream for you. You have chosen the dust of the dry promises of substances that alter you, a lifestyle that has literally changed the course of your life. You are suffering bitterly because of those choices.

If I could, I would snatch you from the jaws of this death you are living. I would lift you up and hold you and wrap in the warmth of a life worth choosing.

But I cannot choose for you. You must choose for yourself.

So, full circle I come...full of agony. Yet, forever, full of hope.

First Thoughts

In this quiet moment I ponder... I wonder.... I do, indeed, hope... So much pain...impossible to tell where exactly it began or how it will end. But end it must. This is my hope. Forever. Never, ever give up.