dots and arrows

The mask in my hand hung from thin overused rubber strings, it had been washed countless times and still it clung onto the original pink tone. I swirl it around on my finger and wonder why my clothes can’t be made of this same material while I stare at the endless line waiting to get into the grocery store. In my mind I weigh out the actual need of the few things on my list and decide that if we want to have anything healthy it will require me standing on my appointed dot. I look at the dot, and then up at the people standing on their dots, all either holding or wearing their masks. Some of them are using their phones to pass the time, others talk to the person in line with them but it’s the others that catch my attention. It’s the woman fifth dot from the front of the line, she wears a blue mask; medical grade, and her hands cling to her purse tightly. Her eyes are cast at the door and in the deep pits of blue I see fear. The person in front of her moves slightly, putting a little less than the required 6 feet between them and the woman with blue frightened eyes steps back automatically, it’s become reflex, and I know that the fear has taken hold, it’s its own virus and I look to see the others who have caught it. There is an older man, he’s bent a little and leans slightly to the left. He has a cane hooked over his arm as if he was told by someone who loves him ‘don’t go out without your cane”; but he’s still too proud to actually use the thing. He is wearing a black mask and it is fogging his glasses, which mask his eyes from me but then he lifts a little bottle of sanitizer from his pocket and squirts it into his hands, rubbing the alcohol into his dry calloused hands. He puts the lid on the small bottle and then lifts his mask just enough to allow the glasses to defog before replacing the mask. It was only a moment before the glasses were once again filling with fog, he had grey eyes, tired grey eyes filled with anxiety and hidden deep in there was a small amount of hopelessness. When his glasses fogged over completely again he started again with the small bottle of sanitizer, squirting it out, rubbing into his hands and tugging at the mask for a little reprieve. It all seemed so monotonous and sad so I turned and watched the cars pass by along the street. The light changed and the orange hand flashed up to signal everyone to stop, they did, but each taking care to not touch, to back up, or move away if the 6 feet wasn’t being observed. At the stoplights there are no dots to tell us where to stand, we are on our own there, on the sidewalk too. We have to guess which way the other person would go and then just dive in and hope for the best. A movement catches my eye and I see that someone has left the store, making room for the next person to go in, I change to the next dot and catch the eye of the man with the grey eyes, I smile but he only nods at me and turns away. I feel the urge to hug this man, to hold him and tell him it’s going to be okay but deep down I know it wouldn’t be welcome, not now, with so many things changed. The security guard points to the next person in line and they step away from their dot and enter the store, like robots we all move forward and I long for something that I can’t put my finger on. The fear that now settles over the faces of those around me is tangible; the air is thick with worries that weren’t there just a few moths ago. I look down at my new dot and notice that the side of the dot is ripped, a sign of age in this new era of masks and dots and rules and bubbles. It’s already old enough to have aged and it leaves a cold feeling in the pit of my stomach. When will this end I wonder to myself? When will I see a friend on the street and be able to hug them? Will there ever be a time again when I can see an old man with sad grey eyes and be able to go to him, help him, and have it be welcomed? Slowly the line moves and finally it is my turn to enter the store. I stand while the twenty something guy uses sanitizer on my grocery cart and then he squirts some into my hand and I swipe my hands together to clean any possible germ off me. I push the cart to the first arrow and try to follow the arrows properly while also thinking what I might need for the new few weeks since this is not a thing I want to do on a regular basis. Standing in line for food isn’t something I am used to doing and I find myself smiling under my mask because in that there is something to be grateful for. The arrows get confusing near the check out lines and a woman in line snarls at me when I get too close to her dot, I mutter an apology and quickly move aside trying to get back in the right direction. I see the woman with her blue mask and scared blue eyes as she pays for her items, quickly sanitizing her hands after touching the credit card machine, she picks up her bags and hurries off out the door so that the next person in line and come inside. The old man is standing in front of the frozen dinner isle, he is eating for one, I can tell by the way he grabs the hungry man dinners by the dozen and shoves them into the cart. He is set up for a month of dinners by the time he closes the frozen food section door and then I watch as he wipes the liquid from his little bottle over his hands and quickly defogs his glasses. He catches me watching him and he smiles a guilty little smile and tells me he can’t see with the blasted mask on. I move a little closer, not too close just close enough to be heard over the loud speaker announcing a spill in the milk isle. “I get it’ I tell him to ease his guilt at being caught lifting his mask ‘you’re okay’. His shoulders dip a little and he nods. “I will be’ He announces stoically. He nods again and turns back to his cart before once more looking back at me and telling me to have a good day. I wish him the same and we part ways, him with his hungry man fish steaks and me to the large stacks of frozen pizza’s on sale. The kids do love the frozen pizza and at this stage of the game I am doing my best to make this fun for them. Tonight will be a movie night I decide in the moment and grab a few of the boxes stacked up. I push the cart the wrong way up an empty isle trying to ignore the large arrows yelling at me that I am heading the wrong direction and I find the microwave popcorn. When the list I have is complete and the dots and arrows are becoming too much I make my way to the cashier to pay. I stand on the other side of the a large plexi-glass screen and try to make my eyes smile at her, try to make this seem like any ordinary day despite the fact that she can’t see my smile, can barely hear my hello through my cotton mask and her wall of glass. She seems cheery but tired, everyone is tired it seems and I know that when this day is done it won’t matter how tired I am I will still lie away wishing it was all a nightmare. I pay for the food, bag it all up and then attempt to wash my hands while grabbing all the bags into my arms to walk home. I get stopped at the door by security, not to check my bill but to allow the people coming in to have the distance they require. My arms are already tired and I shift the bags, thank the security guard as he nods for me to take my turn and then I am out on the street again. I pull the mask off and let it fall onto the chain it hangs from when it’s not in use and I allow for the brief but wonderful feeling of that air hitting my face again. I’ve only had to wear masks a few times in my life and they always centered around hospitals and if I am honest I hate them, I feel claustrophobic inside them but I think of the old greyed man and my own parents and I am thankful that we care enough to make them the law to keep the ones we love safe. The street is pretty loud, not with voices, but with the noise of traffic in the city, the sirens of first responders and I realize how much I miss the sounds of kids playing in the parks or shouting to be heard while they pass by with friends. I stand at the lights waiting for the green and I see a woman walking across the other side of the street with two little children, each wearing a mask, each clinging tightly to their mothers hand and glancing about nervously at the cars whizzing by. They are too young to really understand the full scope of this new world that is changing us so quickly, the new rules that we fear and have a hard time understanding ourselves, they are the ones who have lost the most and will be impacted the most emotionally, socially and mentally. What will they l look like in five years when the immediate threat is over and they are left with social anxiety; Will they still fear the touch of a friend? Will we? The light changes and I double check the road before stepping out, I smile at the kids as we cross paths but they don’t see me, I am too tall and they are too small. As I walk down the street I pass a few people sitting on their porches, reading, listening to music, working on the yard. They look up and wave, people who wouldn’t have noticed me pass by before because they would and should be at work. Now they are just passing time, waiting, none of us know what we are waiting for but part of the wait is just for human connection and as I wave and yell out a greeting I know that this is best connection we can hope for right now. I see a man in a park with his dog, he stands and throws a ball and the dog gives chase jumping in the air with his tail wagging and then spinning in circles when he catches his prize and returns to the man who pats his head and speaks words of praise to him, then he sits beside the man and they repeat the process. I see a couple approaching the park, they have a tiny little puppy between them, he is jumping up and down in excitement at the prospect of being outside in the big world. There are a lot of puppies around lately, they are all very cute and I have to admit there is a part of me that wishes I could snuggle each of them but that too is off limits because it means getting too close the people who own them. I do enjoy watching them though and I find myself slowing as I watch the puppy enter the park and run in circles around the larger dog who had been catching balls just seconds before. They chase each other and bark and run around the perimeter of the park together, not understanding a world in which that would be seen as a privilege. We have taken it all for granted I think to myself as I stop by the fence to watch. For years I would hug a friend, offer a hand to a stranger, sit in close to hear a conversation and it was okay, I wouldn’t have thought twice about it and now that it’s gone I notice how much it meant, how much I have taken for granted and I swear to myself right there by that fence that I won’t do that again. When this is over I will make the time for conversations, I will not allow fear to stop me from touching someone in need, I will hug my friends again but even as I continue walking there is a part of me that knows that I will one day break that vow and when things settle again I will forget how precious and special human connections are., I will once again be too busy to see what is right in front of me. That simple reality makes me feel sad and lost again and I wonder when we became so focused on being busy, on producing, on getting ahead that we stopped having time for the basic things like a time to be still, a time to rest, a time to listen and a time to play. I think about the man with grey eyes and I imagine him sitting at home alone with his hungry man dinner and I wonder if he has someone who comes to visit him, if he has neighbors to pass the time with or if there is someone willing to touch his shoulder, hold his hand or hug him. What about the people who don’t have that, what will become of them? There have been moments when I thought the kids would drive me crazy, being stuck home from school they need to be educated and play time and I am the only one around to do it for the best part of the day. I long for the moment that my husband passes through the door so that I can pass the duty to him for a moment of quiet before we all have dinner together and watch a show or movie or play a game. What would all of this look like without those three people in my house to spend the time with? What would it be like if I didn’t get to hug them for weeks on end, if I didn’t have my husband to whisper my worries too in the dark of night? What if I was alone in this? I make a turn onto the street we live and I see the house ahead of me but it isn’t a house in this moment, it’s a sanctuary and I smile as it gets closer and I wonder about the people who live in the homes beside us, are they loved, are they with someone? Do they feel safe in the place they are living or do they fear the person who shares their space? Children who would normally have an escape from abuse may be stuck with no hope of rescue; a spouse suffering an abusive partner may now be lying in pool of forgotten hopes on the floor. I sit on the front steps of my house, grocery bags at my feet and I pray for the people around me; the people who feel forgotten, the hopeless, the lonely, the weary and the afraid. Then I thank God for the things I do have because there is always something we can find in our lives that we have, even if it is just the realization that we have never known something like this before, like lining up for food or being afraid to shift too far off our dot or turn the wrong way in a food isle. I stand up and put the key in the door and fighting kids and a barking dog greet me as I put the bags down and I stop and hug them, because I can. This science fiction world that has been thrown on us is not normal no, the whole situation is surreal and eerie; but at the end of the day there is a lot to be learned, a lot to be thankful for and it will end. Who I am when it ends depends on the choices I make in the moments when I am most afraid or sad or lonely. I could give in to despair, I could cave to the anger and anxiety or I could sit down and enjoy this chance for quiet, this time with the people I do have in my life, this time to reconnect with a God that I have been so busy with life that I have neglected. It’s my choice how to live through this weird time we now find ourselves. I could stand on my dot and stare into the abyss and give up or I can strike a conversation with the person on the dot behind me. I could walk down the street with my head down watching my feet take step after step or I could smile and wave to the people on their porches, I could bemoan trying to teach my kids or I could embrace the chance to spend time with them in a way that I never got when I was a kid, I could worry into the night or I could use that time to rest and thank God for the day we did have. I could wish for what I want or be thankful for what I have. My choices will determine who I am when this nightmare ends. I pray I make the right ones as I put the food in fridge and talk to the kids about what movie night will look like.

noisy silence

Sometimes we find ourselves in a place of stillness and the silence can be deafening. I think the world is finding itself there now. We have so many things that we know need to be done, could be done but if you are like me the noise of the silence is distracting. As a rebellious soul I find it hard to focus on the things I could be doing but and would rather do all the things that I can't do. The truth is though, if I really think about it, I'm not doing anything different from normal aside from seeing friends and taking part in church and school activities with the boys. I miss those things for sure but teaching them here at home has been a form of fun as well. Life is certainly different but there are a lot of things to find joy in if we look. My boys are fighting less, they are learning quickly that they are each others friend, not just a brother and that is something that will follow them for their entire lives. I am able to sit and teach each kid on a one to one basis and as a result I have seen each one grow in confidence and knowledge, about things they are actually interested in. It is fun to hear them giggle with each other as they have mock battles upstairs, or have long political talks with them about things they are hearing and seeing on the news. Yesterday we discussed the Black Lives movement, the why and the reasons although neither boys could understand why it was an issue to begin with (which makes me hopeful for our future). They are the minority in their school and it's a good thing, they fully accept all people, all races, all genders and I love that they don't understand why people treat people differently because of their skin colour or gender or religion and it breaks my heart that I have to tell them that there are people in the world that don't feel the same way. It led us to other conversations, deeper ones about the world and it's brokenness, the pain, and suffering that we will all eventually have to face, most likely multiple times and Kaleb pulled out a story that we read a few nights ago from Aesop's Fables:

The Oak and The Reed

The mighty Oak tree grew by a river. One day a fierce storm knocked the tree down. After the storm ended the Oak tree was amazed to see the river reeds were still standing, and he asked them how this was possible. 
"It is simple" one reed replied. "when the wind came, you were too proud to bend even a little, but I know that I am only a humble reed, so when the wind blew I bend over. That is why I am still here"
And so we learn that it is better to bend than to break.

So as I sit in the noisy silence,  I need to allow my heart to hear the beauty in the daily grind of boredom, I have to see the fun in what we can do and stop looking for things I can't do. I need to be less like an Oak tree, and much more like the river reed.

L

P.S. I was featured as the author spotlight of the month at Word Alive Press this month - check out the blog by following this link! Word Alive Press Blog

How do we hope when fear is the virus?

I find myself in a strange place this week, similar to a rollercoaster I feel hopeful one moment and then frustrated and angry the next. Life just isn't normal, and part of me understands that it will not be normal for a very long time but then another part of me wants to run out in the streets and hug, touch, speak side by side with someone, anyone. I miss my parents, I dread the thought of summer alone in the house with the kids with nothing to do.  I worry about the social impact of this on my kids, my youngest in particular as he's the active extroverted one. I worry about the closed doors that are hiding deep problems of abuse. Kids who have no escape, nowhere to run if things get bad. The women who are even now being kicked, hit, or battered with words, who have no one to turn too, nowhere to hide. I worry about the men and women who are alone, slowing the isolation will creep into their soul and the loneliness will eat at them. I struggle when I hear of people who are ill from non-Covid related diseases but who can't access help because our hospitals are in a holding pattern waiting for a surge that may never happen, or the clinical trials that people count on that have been shut down, the research that has stopped, I worry about all the non-Covid things that are being left to rot because of the fear of Covid. I don't believe in what the US is doing, the protests and callousness that I see, or the silly remarks I have heard that Covid is made up but I wonder, deep down if we are allowing fear to take us too far down a dark path that will be very very hard to come back from. We can't discount everything for the sake of Covid 19. We have to find a way forward that helps and heals, we have to care for those at risk while also caring for the people who aren't. I wish I had the answers, but I know that hope is a huge part of what pulls people through times of crisis and I watch the news and I lose the hope that I was clinging too. When will someone, anyone, start talking about a plan to move forward, a plan that offers hope, a plan that shines a light down the tunnel for us? I see so much fear, and I worry that the fear will guide us, not our heads.

I always try to end a post on a hopeful note... I'm afraid my head isn't in it today. I against my better judgement watched the news this morning and just became frustrated and angry instead. I should have written yesterday when I felt more hopeful. Instead I guess I will ask you to pray, for me and for our leaders, for our friends and for the people who are working to keep this virus contained. We can't kill it, eventually it will have to run it's course and I pray that fear will not block the wisdom needed to make the hard decisions on when we start to move from fear to healing.  That God will lead our leaders in making wise decisions.

Pray too for those who have small businesses, the local shops that are at high risk of losing it all. If you are one, if you know one, please post in the comments the link so that people can shop locally while this continues.

I will start with one sweet little bookstore that I know called Ellaminnow on Queen st east.  Your kids need to read, they need something to do, why not help a local shop while also doing something nice for your kids.  

There is so much to be praying for in these odd times. I will pray for you, please, take a moment  to stop and pray for us.


L

Step out ...

Toronto - Closed

Pandemic week 4 or 5: It has been a long few weeks. I have sat down to write a thousand times and either one of the kids comes to ask a question (usually preceeded by the announcement that they are hungry) or I sit and stare at the blank screen lost in thought and unable to articulate my feelings. I know what I want to say sometimes, but the truth is it all seems to so redundant. No one knows what is happeneing and it's easy to lose yourself in the unknown and just wallow in it. Losing patience is the first thing to go. At first it's so unreal and different that it's almost comical but horribly so. The first week of this insanity I found myself laughing at all the memes and jokes,sharing them on social media and getting a kick out of sharing them. Week two they seemed less humerous. I came back to Toronto from the cottage because Tim and I wanted some normalcy for the boys. We started a schedule, we cleaned the house from top to bottom, I baked, we walked and got outside everyday. Week three I cried. I cried a lot. I was frustrated, I felt hopeless, angry, easily irritated by the guys I love most. (All three of them). I began searching for anything that would be different. Tim has to run an errand? We are in! That sounds exciting! It is humiliating how desperate I have become for any answers as to an end date. It is frustrating how fast I am losing my mind when they extend the date yet again. 

So this is the thing. To live in faith with doubts is to stop, look back at the past victories and then see how God worked, then step out with trust that he will again work, redeem, comfort, show mercy, and most important in times like this... offer hope. 

I wake up every morning with the same sick feeling in the pit of my stomach that I had in the weeks following Joshua's birth. All the days and nights of not knowing when this would end, how it would end, if it would end, all the hours of begging for answers and getting nowhere. The moments when I sat in silence not hearing God's voice. The moments when I realized that I wasn't in control and it nearly drove me out of my mind. 

I have been in this place before, 12 years ago I lived it. So I sit down and I start to think about how God worked, I see his hand over every part of that time in our life. I look across the table now at the kid who sits in front of me doing his home work, the kid I worried so much about and I know that I can step out in trust again on this. I can't hear God speaking but I know from past experience that it means he is here, he's listening, and when the time is right his voice will cover me like a blanket of comfort. That is what I know without doubt because I am not in control and he is, and if he is then the outcome will be okay. It may not be easy, it rarely is, but it will be okay, we won't be alone. If he's in this, which he is, then we can rest in him. We can use this time as a blessed rest, a time of sabbath and put aside the fears, the anxiety, the unknowns. 

So I guess my message today would be for you to take a moment, sit somewhere quiet. Identify the feeling in your gut and remember the last time you felt it, then look back at how God managed and redeemed it. Then, and this is the hard part. Talk to him, tell him how you feel and what you fear, and step out, take his hand and walk on the faith that he has planted under your feet. 

a moment that wouldn't have happened if they had been in school and not in lockdown

Be safe, keep hope.

Laurie

We aren't alone.

When everyday changes and nothing feels secure and no can give you answers it is easy to draw in, to think of yourself and be afraid, panicked even. All these feelings I have been feeling remind me of the weeks I sat in the CCCU waiting room not knowing what was going to happen with Joshua, would he live or die? Would our lives ever be the same again? Would we ever recover from it? Would anything ever be or at least feel normal again? I have had a hard time understanding what I have been feeling the last week and a half, struggling to understand the underlying pain and confusion and lack of control but yesterday I realized it for what it was and for the first time in a week I felt the water level lower to a point that I wasn't feeling like I would drown. This feeling we have, the lack of control, the struggle to understand, the chaos we feel ourselves stuck in and the frustration we feel that there are no answers, no clear end in sight... I have been here before, I have been here and I can attest to that fact that God is here, he's with us, he is in control and this too will be redeemed and this too will have beautiful things happen in the midst of it.

I hate it, I know how frustrating and awful it is. There is nothing more painful than sitting in the fear and unknown and not know what to do to make anything better. We are are watching a virus sweep through the world, stealing our parents and grandparents, mothers, daughter, fathers, sons, friends and neighbours and it is scary. We are sitting in front of the TV or computer watching the news waiting for someone, anyone to give us answers. We are worried about the financial implications of this for the world and for ourselves. We have no answers and we have no control and there 's nothing more human than being worried and anxious about that lack of control. Yet, I know that we will get through this. We will have moments of reprieve, moments of joy and laughter and a lot of tears and anger and frustration. We are after all, human and we will do what is naturally human.  BUT, this is what I learned in the CCCU waiting room. God is not a God of chaos, that isn't what he is about. He restores order, he works to redeem. It is him who is inspiring the beauty you see in the ashes, it's his hand at work in the first responders who are sacrificing to help others, it is his comfort that you see when you are contacted by a friend and loved one just to say hi. He is here, sitting with us, helping us, comforting us and he is even now working to redeem this mess.

I have been struggling to know what to say in a blog post about this pandemic, I have been scared, I have been worried about food shortages, I have been anxious about our finances, I have been worried about my kids who are higher risk, terrified for my parents who are very high risk, worried about Tim who is trying to hold it all together for the church, to keep things going so that the community will have at least one thing that is has some semblance of normalcy. I worry about the boys' educations and health and social lives and just when I feel like I am not going to be able to ever breathe normally again I am reminded of before, the days when I begged the doctors for answers that they didn't have, the time when we were given a crutial decision that could either take Joshua from us or save his life, we didn't know what to do so we asked God to make that call, to make the final decision for us. I believe that is where we are as a world community now, there are no real answers. There are a lot of bandaid fixes, people are doing their best but no one really knows what to do for sure, no one knows when this ends, or how it ends. It's time for us to give it to God. It is time to turn to him and see what he is already doing, time to do what we can for our neighbours, time to lay the anxiety at the cross and pray diligently for the future. It is not easy, the tightness in my gut and shoulders tells me I am still fighting it despite what I am saying and yet I know that sometimes we have to do what isn't natural to us before things really change.

We need to pull ourselves together, work together, not just as neighbours or citizens of the same country, or the same political group, we have to stand side by side with our world neighbours and work together, leading each other through this, loving each other through this.  What comes of this is not just up to God but also us, how we respond, how we help, how we show compassion, love, patience, generosity, hope. It is time to put aside politics, economy, race, religion, and gender and time to step up in love. It's time to stop using social media to denigrate people and instead use it to reach out and speak to those in isolation, time to spread love and not hate, time to protect, not just ourselves and our borders but life in general. Be really PRO LIFE and step up for the people in the world who came before us, who raised us, who took care of us, who taught us, who funded us and who protected us when we couldn't.

I wish I had simple, easy, clear answers for you. Sadly I don't and probably never will. I will continue to be praying for all of us. For you and for your loved ones and I ask you to pray for me and the people that I love. We are in this together and I promise you we are NOT alone. God's here in the worst of it and he cares very very much.

L

almost

There are words in our vocabulary that can inspire us, change us, break us or heal us, words that create and words that destroy, words of beginnings and words that speak of endings or, there are words that leave us hanging in the spaces in between.  

Almost, it’s the 'leave you hanging in between' of words, it’s the ‘wait’ it’s the ‘not now’ and yet there is just enough hope in it to be wistful, slightly beautiful in the ugliness of it’s unfinished incompleteness.

I have found that life here in the ‘in between’ of birth and death, of before and after Jesus, of the space between Genesis and Revelation there is a place called almost. We live here, it is our address, our home, our residence. We are almost there, almost finished, almost whole, almost happy, almost satisfied, almost, almost.  Almost but not now, not yet, soon, later, Almost

Living in the almost will always be uncomfortable because it’s not real, not finished, not permanent. We can’t move in and unpack because it’s not done, we aren’t ‘there’ just almost there. We strive, we struggle, we fight, we work, we worry, we try different things to get there but always when we stop we are still just in the almost. We get tired. It is like being in the middle of the lake and swimming hard, looking up and seeing that the horizon is still just as far as it was before, it may seem like you are almost there but you are not there yet. You are hungry, you want to eat and you are told ‘it’s almost time’ but it’s not time yet. Not yet.

Almost isn’t No, it’s wait, it’s soon but not yet, not now; later. Almost is both wistfully hopeful and painfully sad. It can fill you with wonder and anticipation or It can leave you winded and tired, excited or frustrated, peaceful or angry.  Ready or Not.

Almost is more than it seems when you first hear it, it’s a choice given that is given to you, you can live in almost with joy and excitement, or you can wallow there in bitterness and grief. You can find the wonder, breathe in the waiting, dream of the soon ;You can rise and unpack, beautify this space in between or you can sit with the boxes doing nothing while you wait.  You can stare at walls, yell at the wait, dread the not now. We can choose what almost is, is it no or is it later; is it bitter or wistful, is it stand or sit?

New Song

Every morning, starting in mid January every single year the boys and I start to have the same conversations. When is winter over? When will it start to get warmer? Can I wear my spring coat? Why is it always dark? Can I wear my running shoes today? Do you think it will be warmer tomorow? Will the sun be shining today, tomorrow, next week? Is it going to rain again today? How come it's always so long until spring? Why? When? How long?

It started a week later than normal this year because we had a nicer winter but this morning it was particularly bad because the last few days the boys allowed themeselves to believe that spring had sprung and this morning there were two very grumpy boys trudging through the cold (cold being relative compared to yesterday) and damp weather this monrning in boots. Kaleb's "whole day was ruined because he couldn't wear the outfit that went with his spring coat and runners) and Joshua was just annoyed that it wasn't either snowing or sunny but just sort of in between yuckiness.

I always get my walk in first thing in the morning, so part of it is spent with the boys as they start their day, after leaving them at school I go on and finish the walk and as I walked yesterday I couldn't help but empathize with them. All the way to school I listened to the groaning and I felt their pain. I hate winter, in particular I hate winter that is not snow but not warm, I hate the wet, dismal, slushy cold and I hate the dark. This winter has been so lovely that it seems awful to compain about a few days of yuckiness but it's leading me somewhere so stick with me.

I left the boys, grabbed a coffee and started my walk. As I walked I thought about them and the growing feeling of unrest that comes at this time of year, the time of year when you can taste spring, smell it on the breeze, feel the suns rays warming, and  the evenings get lighter, longer. It's not here yet, but it's coming.

Life is like that, I feel like I am in that space right now, the almost spring place, I can see it, the lighter days, the warming sun, the dry bright days but then I am reminded that winter isn't quite over, there are threats of snow, there is the anxiety that tomorrow it will be cold again. The nights are long enough and dark enough still to remind me that we are not fully into spring.  I do not yet fully trust the warming days, I still hesitate when hope springs up in the form of sunshine because I fear that winter will strike back in a final free for all at the end of the season, those april blizzards that jump out at you and make you want to weep. The seasons, all four of them have a purpose, a reason, a beauty to them but they also have an end and in the midst of the winter season I have been in for the last few years I have forgotten that; I have forgotten that I have not woken up in the land of eternal winter.  Spring is coming. There is hope, longer days, sunnier moments, sunny,  vitamin D filled moments await me, the beach and the hot sand will be at my feet and rest will come. It's just about holding on.

The first time I ever really heard or paid any attention to Psalm 40 was when I heard the song by U2:

Psalm 40

I waited patiently for the Lord

He inclined and heard my cry

He brought me up out of the pit

Out of the mire and clay

I will sing, sing a new song

I will sing, sing a new song

How long to sing this song

How long to sing this song

How long, how long, how long

How long, to sing this song

He set my feet upon a rock

And made my footsteps firm

Many will see

Many will see and fear

I will sing, sing a new song

I will sing,…

U2 

Mother nature is not in charge here, God has this within the palm of his hand, he has a reason to walk me through this season, he has a purpose to this new spring season that is coming. It brings new life, new hope and it brings joy but;  I have to wait, we are not quite there yet. As I walked I realized I have a choice in how I anticipate this new season. I can choose to do what my guys do, what I do, and grumble about the fact that it isn't spring yet, that it's colder than I want, that it's raining or wet snow, or cloudy ], or dark or .... you get the idea, the list could go on and on...  or I could choose a different reaction to mornings that aren't what I had hoped for, where I wish that the sun was shining, I could sigh and accept it for what it is. A wonderful season of hope, hope for new life lying just below the surface of the thawing earth, life flowing on the warmer breeze, life filtering through the warming rays of the sun. I could stop and allow myself to feel not sorrow or dissapointment but rather anticipation. 

It always seems to come back to this truth, life will happen, how will we respond is the question we all need to answer at some point. We always have a choice. Rise or Fall, cry and wail or smile and hope. 

So, this is me trying to sing a new song, this is me trying to stop asking 'how long O Lord?' and just live in this moment, trusting that it willl happen, believing in the evidence and breathing in the fragrant air. Spring is indeed going to come. Just beneath the snow and dirt there are there are buds that need a little more time before they break through the soil and bloom. 

L

bumps

Yesterday I woke up feeling like I had taken a horrible fall back into the darkness, after talking just the day before about the rays of beautiful light and the hope and the healing I woke up desperately sad and then very angry to be back in the fog and dark. I hate the bumps in the road that knock us off course. I walked the boys to school and after dropping them I put my earphones in and hit play on the music hoping to create a bubble for just God and I but it didn't help. I felt heaviness and temptations to go backward, I wanted so badly to just go to sleep and wait for the day to end. Instead I just sat still in my chair by the window, music on, and I prayed; all day. No easy answers sprang up but I kept praying a simple 'please help me'. The kids came home and were playing so I continued to sit, and finally, after hours of silence, I heard his voice whisper through scripture.

"in him we have redemption through his blood, the forgiveness of our trespasses, according to the riches of his grace.." Ephesians 1:7-8

I just need to accept the freedom was the overwhelming message I received...

  'Just accept the freedom I have already won for you with my blood. Accept that you are loved, accept that I have forgiven you, accept that you stand before me spotless, accept it, accept me.' 

It seems so stinking simple right?? There is so much breathing room in that simple reality, so much freedom. All of a sudden the clouds lifted and I felt th weightless feeling of freedom fill my spirit.

Every day is new, everyday I am given a choice. Stay up and fight, or go back to bed. There are days when it is easier than others, days when I don't need to use all my strength  just to keep going. There are days when, like yesterday, it would be so much simpler to allow the darkness to draw me back to my bed and the comfort of sleep; those days are fewer though and I am getting stronger at fighting. I have God standing beside me and fighting with me and it makes all the difference. Somehow I had forgotten to lean on him, maybe I was afraid to lean back because I thought he wasn't there anymore, or maybe I just felt that I had done enough leaning and he was needed elsewhere... I am not really sure. This I do know, this story, as with all good stories, will have ups and downs.

God is always going to be pulling me, stretching me, teaching me, asking more of me and while it sometimes hurts, or stings or aches or just downright sucks, it also means he still loves me enough to want us to be closer, to have an even deeper relationship than we had before. He is still pursuing my heart and that, that is pretty awesome.

It's not in the fudge!

In the early fall, during one of the dark patches that seemed to have no end in sight,I got a random text from Tim with a picture of fudge, a picture that made it very clear that he had bought me some of my favorite fudge as a treat. The caption to the picture was "just wanted to bring some joy into your life"...

I smiled. I like fudge. It was sweet (the fudge and the gesture)... but something about it, more specifically the caption, really bothered me and niggled at me for days. The fog I was slogging through was thick and I had trouble nailing down exactly why it bothered me but then one Sunday I was listening to Tim preach and God used that time to give me the reason that it bothered me. 

Fudge is not where joy comes from. Joy is what I was missing, it was why my days were so dark, so empty, so lonely, and why I found it hard to find something to be excited about. The days were just stretched out in front of me, endlessly the same. Get up, get kids to school, keep busy until you go back to bed, rinse and repeat. I had woken up in the land of monotony and somehow I had stopped expecting joy, looking for it, forget about actually experiencing it. 

When I turned off the sad, the painful, the angry feelings I apparently also turned off the hopeful, the excited, the joy. I was an empty shell just doing what was necessary to survive the day.  

I had to think, when did I shut off the feelings? When was the last time I felt anything? When had I known joy? The answer was just a whisper in the very back of my mind but it stayed with me for weeks, 'you stopped spending time in my presence'. I remembered the first time I ever really experienced joy, in it's truest form. I was in a place in life where I was fully in God's presence, all day, every day. I hadn't known that you could feel that deep down beautiful, loving, peaceful, hope and ultimately joy. It wasn't 'happy'; it was so much more. It was an assurance, a knowledge of love in it's purest form, it was so deep and true that it can't be described fully. I had lost that and it left me without an anchor, drifting, slowly at first but then one day I woke up and I was in this fog, alone, afraid and sure that I would never find my way out. 

So, I am in this boat, drifting in unfamiliar territory, scared, alone and desperately sad and it hit me. It wasn't on me to try to find a way out, it was on me to start to spend time in my wonderful God's presence, to seek him, to allow him to guide me out. I started small, earphones in my ears, worship songs on, short prayers filled with desperate pleas. One day I started to notice that the dark was changing, it looked more like that dark purple with lilac hues that come with the dawn, and then slowly, the oranges and reds and yellows that come with a sunrise. Light, hope, beauty were on the horizon and the emptiness began to have feelings attached. The emotions come at random times now, tears over a commercial, anger that spikes red hot and entices me to speak up, fear, not the anxious fear that prevents action but the fear that seeks help from the only one who can do anything for me. Tears come when I least expect them, they make me angry but they bring me joy too because they mean that I am healing, they mean that I am thawing out. 

When God speaks they are words of life. How I wish I had started to listen sooner and yet I am thankful too for the experience, the dark taught me how to forgive, how to understand, how to feel empathy. I hadn't fully understood before. I hadn't ever thought I would dread tomorrow, I never thought I would ever feel hopeless, it was foreign to me then and so familiar now and as hard as it has been, as hard as it still sometimes is, I am somehow finding that I am thankful for the knowledge. 

I still love fudge... especially chocolate, and if Kaleb isn't anywhere near me I love the peanut butter cup kind, just thinking about it makes me salivate but joy, it can't be found in fudge. It can bring a smile, temporary satisfaction to the tastebuds, and comfort from someone who loves me so much that he wants to see me smile again but it can't bring me joy. God used Tims wording that day to start a dialogue with me that has me hanging onto a new rope, I'm no longer drifting without paddles, God is now back in his rightful spot as captain. 

Am I 'healed'... not yet, there are still dark moments and fears but here's the thing. In this world Im not sure that we will ever find perfect healing, but we are given little glimpses into what perfect healing looks like sometimes and it serves as the rope that guides us home. 

"I will bless the Lord who has counseled me; Indeed, my mind instructs me in the night. I have set the Lord continually before me; because he is at my right hand, I will not be shaken. Therefore my heart is glad and my glory rejoices; my flesh also will dwell securely. For you will not abandon my soul to Sheol; nor will you allow your Holy One to undergo decay. You will make known to me the path of life; in your presence is fullness of joy; in your hand there are pleasures forever."

Psalm 16:7-11

rays of light

There has been a lot of very dark moments in the last two years of battling mental health issues related to PTSD. I have been unavailable in so many ways and I wont lie, there were days when I wondered if I would find my way back to the light but slowly I am seeing the beauty of rays of light in the fog. You know those rays, the bright beams of light that come down through the clouds and look almost like God's fingers? That is the only way to describe what this last 6 months has been like. His fingers, reaching down through the clouds and touching me with his beauiful light and warmth.

In October God started talking to me about joy, more specifically about my lack of joy. I started to try and  figure out when I last had it and I had to admit that I couldn't remember, but I remembered that when I felt it most was when I was in his presence and so I began to seek time with him, in his presence, and there He was, the scales fell from my eyes and he was standing in front of me smiling.

The process was horrible, it was hard and painful and dark but I feel like I have climbed a moutain, and that I climbed it for a reason; I stand here thanking God for allowing me to see what it feels like to suffer anxiety and depression so that I can fully understand the suffering of others who struggle with it.  I am not 'There' yet; I know that I will never again be the person I was before and I have come to understand that that is a good thing.

As most readers of this blog (long suffering and yet faithfully loyal people that you are) know that I have been spending a lot of time writing a book and going through the publishing process, the process has been... lets say 'Inspired' since I really had not a lot to do with it. Had it been my choice it would have remained in a file on the external harddrive of my computer. God had other plans though and even when I fought him every step of the way he somehow landed me here, in February 2020 with a light in front of me and a published book coming in just weeks... God has been so faithful and so gracious.  Of course I plan to share each wonderful step with you and as always I thank you for your patience and love.

My book, also called Through the Lens of Motherhood is due to be released this April and when it hits stores I do hope you will buy a copy to hear the full story of the hope and joy of being forever changed by experiences beyond our control. I will keep you posted on how to get your copy directly from me or give links on where to buy online.

My ADHD brain

Picture it. You have to clean the house, get the kids ready for school, plan a trip to the store, write a blog post, finish the paperwork piled on your desk, send a few emails, finish some things that will allow you to volunteer... This is the list you are working with today, but the list is just sort of all up in your brain somewhere, floating about. Imagine it like a slideshow, pictures fade in (oh, you think, yes. I need to do that!) You immediately head upstairs to grab the swimsuit from your kids room (he has swimming today and you need his suit in his backpack — that was the first picture in the slideshow).  With the swimsuit in your hands you look around you, the room is a mess, the next slide fades in and it's a shot of the laundry room. Swimsuit in hand you grab the hamper and fill it with the dirty clothes scattered at your feet. You take the basket and suit downstairs and start a load of laundry, the dog starts barking and the slideshow continues and you know the dog needs to go out. As you stand in the kitchen you stare out at the garden and realize you need to water it so while the dog is out doing his thing you go out and start to water the plants you have managed (miraculously) to keep alive all summer. The kids come out, they have their bags and scooters and with a quick (bye Mum) they are off and the day is spread before you. Something is niggling at you, the jumble of stuff in your brain is yelling at you but you can't understand what it's saying, you keep watering the space and then your phone rings. It's your friend and you start to chat for a few minutes making coffee plans for later in the week. (you realize that at some point you put your coffee down and yet you can't remember where so you go inside and pour another one) as you talk you move into the house and find yourself staring at the kitchen, it looks like a bomb has gone off and there were no survivors. As you chat you start to tidy up; the slideshow starts up again and you see the image of the dinner you have to make, and the items that you need to pop over the store for. You hang up with your friend and grab your keys and purse. You get to the store and you buy a few items (plus a couple of things you didn't plan on) and then head back home feeling very accomplished. You arrive home and put the food away when the phone pings an email alert and you remember the emails you needed to respond too. You deal with it, you get a text in the process and read it, you think of the response but you don't actually respond yet, that's for later. Next slide on the list in the paperwork, you look at the pile but it's tall, you decide that should be saved for later and instead you head back out to get the volunteer stuff sorted instead. You actually do it this time (it's amazing how long it has taken you to complete this stupid easy task but it was so overwhelming - or it seemed to be... embarrassing really). You come back home and walk into the living room, gathering toys swords and cars and dirty underwear as you walk which makes you remember that the laundry needs to be switched; you decide that if you are switching the load you should make sure all the laundry gets done; so you go room by room gathering dirty clothes and putting them in the basket, but then you get to your room and you see the bed isn't made, and the bathroom is messy so you put the basket down  and start to tidy the bathroom. There are two dirty glasses in the bathroom so you pick them up and go downstairs to put them in the sink. The phone rings, it's your kid, he doesn't have his swimsuit (he blames you even though it's clearly HIS freaking responsibility) and still another picture forms in your brain of the swimsuit being placed on top of the washing machine this morning while you were loading it with dirty clothes, *the kids dirty clothes. You go downstairs, grab the suit and make sure to make a mental note to switch loads when you get home from the bathing suit drop off (after getting the laundry from upstairs). It goes on like this, room to room, place to place, email to email... then it is bedtime and you are so totally worn out. You walk into your room ready to flop on the bed and pass-out, the bed, it is still a mess and the dirty laundry is all piled in a basket beside your bed, you sit down and know that it means you didn't actually ever switch that load and the clothes are sitting wet in the machine, growing mold and stink with every breath you take but being simply too tired to walk down the four flights of stairs to it, so you take a mental picture of the laundry for your slideshow tomorrow. Then you get a text, it's a question, from the person that texted earlier, the same question, the one that you responded too (or, responded in your brain at least). You put your head on the pillow and go through the slideshow from the day and realize that the only things that actually got accomplished was the dinner, and the bathing suit getting to its location in kids bag. You want to laugh but you know that if you do it will turn into that hysterical laughter that makes people wonder if you are losing your mind, and the truth is you wonder this yourself.  (Also, I still didn't respond to that text) 

I have ADHD and this is my brain. I do a lot of things, they just don't get finished and if they are large, or time-consuming, or even mildly overwhelming and unknown they go on the 'later' list. I have to admit that the later list is sometimes the never list. ( I once found my taxes — which were admittedly a little difficult one year had become so overwhelming that it went on the later list.) When I married Tim I had to make the embarrassing admission that I hadn't done taxes in about 6 years because what started as 'a little difficult' quickly became so HUGE and overwhelming that it somehow landed on the never list. - I should say here that this 'never list' is never far from the reaches of our brains, the large black cloud of anxiety and stress knowing that it only ever grows more and more complicated with each day that it remains on that list). I didn't know I had ADHD, I thought it was normal and that everyone had the slideshow that was bent on distracting them and keeping them from accomplishing anything... but yeah, Tim proved to me that not everyone is like that. I then put it down to my artistic side, my creative brain ( I wish I could add the laughing emoticon here). 

One day I was talking to a few Moms about their kids and we ended up on the topic of ADHD and we started to discuss some of the symptoms and as I listened I found myself saying 'that is so me, I totally do that'... on and on through the entire list. I talked to the doctor, she ran tests and bam! I have ADHD! I am over 40 and just in the last year finding out that I have this. I mourned at first (not joking, I actually found myself in mourning because I realized that, had I known sooner things may have been very different for me). After I grieved for an inappropriate amount of time I quit the pity party and started to source out ways to help myself. When that happened, (lists on paper rather than images in my brain for example). I started to get things finished. I started to chunk up overwhelming things, anything unknown I would set aside 10 minutes to do, and I found that after 10 minutes it was either done or very close. Texts and emails remain 'unread' until have time to sit and actually physically respond... (Im still not fantastic at this but Im trying).  I started taking meds to help and I have finished a book, it's being published. I have a new direction for the photography business which is working and producing, and more, I have time at the end of the day to sit and feel better about how the day went. Instead of just always feeling like I never accomplish anything I am able to scratch things off my list and know that things got finished today. That is big, feeling like you have finished something. I didn't realize how important accomplishment was, how vital to emotional health it is to feel like you did something today, even if it was only a small thing. 

This is a work in progress, I am learning new tricks and I have many unsuccessful days but in the name of being naked and unashamed, in an aim to feel known I share this with you because it's not something I need to hide anymore. I have ADHD and I am totally okay with it. There are a LOT of us out there, you know us, you live with us, you get annoyed by us and yet you love us and our quirky (if not seriously annoying) ways. We are here, in your life and we are not weird, we just can't order our thoughts as well as you, we need different strategies. We are smart, we are creative, we are fun and spontaneous and sometimes it might mean you need to remind us a thousand times that we need to go get our license renewed or switch the loads. You might need to move the lost coffee in the morning back to the kitchen (I will probably never find it in the closet where I was trying to find the kids bathing-suit for school), while you are at it, maybe pop it in the microwave for me, but make sure to tell me or I won't find it there either). If you see us struggling with something that seems too big, or if we look overwhelmed by something, come sit beside us and encourage us, don't do it for us but maybe point out a good starting point and let us take it from there.  

If you are like me, enjoy it. We are gifted in other ways and we can help each other find strategies that work for us, if you are not like me but love someone like me, then maybe this will help you understand things a little differently.  Either way, have a happy day. (I am running out to finish a few things but first I really do need to find that coffee and switch that load of laundry)

L

Dawn

I was walking through the Riverdale farm yesterday after the kids went to school, I love going there. It is so close and I have some great memories of taking the boys when they are little. I was even there with Joshua while pregnant with Kaleb. Yesterday, as I walked those memories washed over me like a nice spring breeze. I now officially have far more good memories of their little years than I do bad memories and as I watched the animals yesterday that truth seemed new to me. I am so used to holding onto the bad things and fighting any other feelings because if I allow feeling; even happiness then it might invoke the other feelings. The feelings that l have hidden for good reason for a long time.  If I let myself remember the good times it seems that inevitably the ugly memories surface; so this process of going for a simple walk and allowing the memories to come is new for me, or at least it has been so long that it seems new.

I remember the time that we were there with Joshua when Kaleb was still kicking away inside my belly; it had been shortly after a 'bad ECHO day' and we were facing some scary unknowns. I walked around the farm trying to show Josh a good time, pointing to the sheep and ducks and cows but my heart hadn't been in it.  Yesterday I passed the exact spot where I had a picture of Joshua and I sitting looking at the sheep and I remembered how he had placed a hand on my knee and stared at the sheep with deep concentration and giggled when his nose came close to the fence and he sniffed at us. I remembered how hard he tried to say baa (despite being well past the age that it should have been hard) and I remember how he smiled at me when he finally managed it. Then I walked over the where the ducks were and I remember how Tim had lifted him up on his shoulders so that he could see past the "big fence" to the pond beyond and watch the ducks and geese swimming around in circles. I remember how big his smile was, how wonderful it looked to see him enjoying being so high off the ground and I remember the wonder I felt knowing that this little person was my son.

Walking around the farm was different yesterday, I didn't feel the normal fog surrounding me,  it no longer felt like I was walking through the sludge that had only ever served to slow me down, my shoulders have lost some of the tightness that only stress can bring.

I walked, I took pictures and I took the time to enjoy the little things like the little pigs having their morning scratch and breakfast, but, more than that,  I allowed myself the freedom of remembering the enjoyable moments without fear of the wounds being re-opened. I left the farm and walked home feeling at peace for the first time in a very long time.

I know that I will have ugly days as I continue this journey to wholeness that I am on but I am starting to understand that I am not in a dark tunnel as I had thought; it's just been nighttime and it may possibly be that it's now dawn and the sunrise is just on the horizon.

Naked and unashamed

On a journey and totally okay with it

Time moves at a faster pace the older you get, I am convinced of that more and more each day. I walked the boys to school this morning and one is creeping precariously close to being as tall as me, the other isn't far behind. The annual group photo had more kids in it this year and each one looks so much older to me today for some reason. They greet me with a maturity that was missing when I said goodbye to them in the spring, or at least that is how it feels. Walking home, alone, with one kid in grade 5 and the other in grade 6 and I have to admit I feel like all of a sudden I am running in a race and everyone is getting ahead of me and I'm waving my arms saying 'wait!! Slow down!'.  They don't of course, they are all laughing and enjoying the feeling of being young and carefree, and if they are anything like me they are taking it all for granted, wishing it away every time they wish they were older.

The last time I wrote I wrote about how I devastated my lilac tree with a severe (and needed pruning) and how I God was about to prune my own life just as harshly. It has not been a fun few years, sorting through painful memories and forcing myself to feel things that I had managed to avoid was a process that sometimes felt worse than the initial trauma itself. I committed to myself that I would see it through, and sometimes that is the only reason that I stayed the course.

Healing sucks! It's up and down and tears and laughter and resentment and pain and every other messy human emotion, and it doesn't happen quickly. God cut that first branch and it was a deep guttural pain, where I had been expecting a short-lived sting. Every branch felt that way, and when the pruning ended (if it has fully ended) I felt raw and bare and exposed; but a funny thing happened in that exposure, in that nakedness and rawness. I met other raw and naked people, I saw their pain and they saw mine and it was beautiful and real and intimate. I was not alone. They were not alone. Tears were no longer something I was afraid, or ashamed of, they were cleansing water that soothed and purified that washed the path ways that allowed to pain to be released, the fears, the anxiety. I became aware of the joy in the nakedness and I started to take steps to put myself out there, to be seen, all of me, not a mask. Me. Laurie. The wife, the Mum, the woman. I started to look in the mirror and seek out who I was for real, behind the pain, behind the smile, behind the masks and she's still there, I see her, I hear her, she gets louder every day and as the seasons change the branches are now growing up and out, fuller and more beautiful every day. That girl that I used to be; before I let the weight of life drag me under, before I told her to shut up and hide, she's there, showly and steadily she's forgiving, she's healing and we are becoming one again. Learning to love ourself again.

I have not written here for many reasons. The main reason is that this past few years I have spent most of my time writing a book (gasp!! This was BIG).... and this summer that book was placed as the first short-listed (essentially making it second place overall). It came with a publishing agreement and sometime this spring you will be able to buy it and (this is the really scary part)... you will see me, the whole of me, the naked me who went on a journey through parenting a very sick kid and found myself sitting in the shadow of the cross.  So, that's it, that is where I was and what I was doing and now that I am finished (sort of) I am back and in much need of some good old blogging!

Please do feel free to come back... I commit to being more on top of things now that the book is finished. Also, check back here for more details as they emerge about the book and the publishing date and launch party details (must have a party!).

Thank you for your faithfulness, Im always surprised to see my stats and know that people are still reading and interested despite my silence.