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.

The lilac

I have never been a gardener; I enjoy them but to me, they always just seem to be another room that needs maintenance.  I have lived in a few homes now that had beautiful gardens and I have always managed to keep them clean and maintained but to say I found any joy in it would be lying to you. The one thing that I have always loved though are flowering trees. When Josh was born we planted a cherry tree so that every spring we could enjoy the cherry blossoms; we moved before I ever saw one but that doesn't matter because each spring we drive by and I take pride in the fact that I left something beautiful behind. When Kaleb was born I planted a lilac and again we moved before I really saw any real blooms. The last mothers day before we left that house I was given a magnolia and I planted it in the front so that we could drive by and see it as it grew and bloomed. The house we are in now had a beautiful garden when we moved in, a huge butterfly bush full of beautiful dark purple blossoms added so much colour and beauty until it died during the ice storm a few years back. We had a lilac here too that survived and seemed to thrive. Every year I enjoy both the look and the smell of the lilacs on the breeze and I have to admit to a bit of sadness each year when I look outside and see the ground covered in a purple carpet of fallen petals. 

A few years ago I found an old blue dresser that someone was throwing out, I picked it up and it was stored at my cottage waiting for me to have space in the car for me to bring it home, this spring it finally made it's way to Toronto with Tim and Kaper and as I pulled out the drawers and started looking it over I quickly realized that it was not going to be suitable for an indoor dresser. However, I hated to throw it out so I decided to use it as a garden piece. It was blue so I didn't need to paint it. I bought soil and some plants and lined the drawers with plastic and added some holes for drainage and made it into a leveled planter. When I stood back and looked at my work I realized that the sides of the drawers hadn't been painted the blue colour and were actually not overly attractive so I pulled out some paint and added some dragonflies and flowers to it. On the top of the dresser, I put some pots with flowers and one used one of Kaper's old rain boots to make a cute little pot for the last of the flowers I had. The entire thing only took an afternoon but spending a beautiful day in the backyard making something look both cute and whimsical made me feel really good. I felt that I had accomplished something that wouldn't be destroyed or messed up the next time the guys came home from school. So began a discovery of the joy of creating a garden. I began to look at my backyard differently, I worked, I created, I painted, I beaded, I planted, I watered, I enjoyed myself and found peace while I was doing it. 

As I began to take more interest in the garden I also started learning how to care for the plants I have for so long basically ignored. One of those things was my lilac. One day I was up on the roof of my shed trying to trim back the apple tree and the lilac tree when I realized that the apple tree was actually killing the lilacs; it was just too crowded. I took out the apple tree since it never bore fruit and I focused on the lilacs. Now, most people who read this will know that a lilac is a bush; I knew it... but mine had become a lilac tree. I was so tall, you could barely see the blooms. It took a friend looking at it to point out that I needed to prune it harshly in order to get it back to being a bush, to push the green down and allow the blooms to really flourish. Yesterday I took the tree trimmer and I went after the lilacs. As I worked and cut I felt like I was killing it, All the branches were falling at my feet and my heart was so sad as it got more and more bare. Now, sitting below the lilac is a fairy home, in the lower branches hang fairy lights and beaded suncatchers, glass bottles with lights also hang from the lower branches in an attempt to add magic to the garden even after the sun goes down. It is a pretty spot. When I stood back after my extreme pruning I saw all the bare spots and sat on the deck contemplating it with both sadness and hope. Then I had an epiphany.

It is an age-old analogy, but pruning a tree to give it more health and beauty is necessary. Pruning humans will have the same results. My lilacs were really pretty, I enjoyed them, they bloomed each year, but they were not what they started out to be. They were meant to be a bush, they started as a bush but time and neglect had turned them into a tree and it was getting so tall that the beauty was becoming more and more difficult to see each year. It took someone reminding me that it was actually a bush for me to finally realize I needed to do something about it. 

Last November when I sat in my doctors' office and answered the questions she asked me it was like someone pointed out that I was not a tree, I was actually meant to be a bush and my beauty was becoming more and more difficult to see because I wasn't who I was supposed to be. The pruning process is hard, it hurts, it's left me bare, I may be hanging a few pretty lights and beads on it to look okay but the reality is that it's an ugly process. Some of the questions made me remember who I was, the person I was before all the years of struggling to keep my head above water, and I was shocked that I had forgotten that woman, that she had become so distant that I could barely remember being her at all. I have neglected her to focus on more pressing matters but it's springtime and now I need to prune her, or God does at least. 

As I sat on my deck looking at my poor bare lilac I began to have hope, because the promise is that all that pruning will bring even more green branches and blooms next year, and the beauty will be more visible, and even more the year following that. It was killing a tree to bring back a bush. 

As I sift through the last 11 years I realize that I have a lot of pruning to do, cutting out the internal voice that has been lying to me, the fears, and the anger that has gone so deep into my roots that it spreads into all areas of my life and just leaves a deep sadness that needs to be sorted through and cut out, and that will take work, sweat and tears, it will leave me bare for a time, it will feel ugly for a bit but with time my true self will begin to show herself again. I will once again bloom and be visible and known for what I was actually intended to be.

known

After taking a bid deep breath yesterday I closed my eyes and hit send and my post went live; having opened up I felt raw and exposed and very very nervous about the possible response I would receive. I didn't want to look at the responses that I was receiving, the texts, the emails, the messages on Facebook because the bandage being ripped off my silence left me feeling so exposed. I have to admit that when I finally did look; when I finally opened the messages I was so comforted by the responses I read. So many people who are in similar spots, so many people with the same struggles, so many people who offered comfort, prayers, love. I am realizing how little credit I have given the people in my life and the world in general. It all seems so silly really, given I know myself I wouldn't think less of someone if they told me what I told you yesterday.  Thank you all for the love and show of support and acceptance. I needed that more than you can know. Sometimes I feel very 'unknown' and there is a part of me today, though still feeling rather exposed, that feels a little more known.

This is a journey that so many are on and while I take comfort in knowing I am not alone I find it a sad thought, to know how many others are feeling the weight of what I am feeling. Many people said 'you are not alone; I understand' and so now I say that to you. You are not alone,  I understand.

More to come, but not today. My brain needs a break today; I just wanted to say thank you for your kindness, compassion and gentle response to my post yesterday. It has helped.

L

Time to fight back

I haven't written in a long time, I have been putting off to busyness and time management but when I really sit and think about it I have to admit that I stopped writing out of fear. The last few months I have been trying to face some of those fears, trying to come to grips with where life has brought me and how I got to this point, this chapter. As I sit here I struggle with where to start because it seems like my brain is so full and trying to make sense of it all is hard for me. However, I have always found that writing, feeling heard and known is a source of therapy so I am going to start and let it flow.

In early November I finally found a doctor who was much closer to our new home and I went to meet her, I liked her immediately and had all my records sent to her and she became my new doctor. She had me come in for a routine check-up a few weeks later and as we chatted through my family medical history I told her all about the boys and their health issues. I guess she was listening to all that I was saying, and not saying because at the end of the appointment she asked me to fill out a screening test. It didn't take too much time but as I answered the questions I began to see a pattern, things that I kind of knew about myself but that I hadn't wanted to face and address. When I handed the test back to her she scored it up, looked at me and said 'do you realize that you are living with a moderate depression, and high anxiety? I wanted to cry because as she spoke the words resonated and I was both angry and a little hopeful. Angry that I was the way I was, and hopeful because someone recognized me, someone, who might be able to help me. We talked at length and she prescribed some medicine to get me over the crunch and she suggested I talk to a therapist. The problem was, I don't talk to people about how I am doing mentally, or if I do it's 'Im good, I've got this, I trust God'; all of which is not untrue but it doesn't cover the whole truth. Therein lies my fear in sharing this post, in picking up the blog again. Sharing with you my deepest fears and admitting the absolute truth is not easy, but it also means that I have to also delve into some painful areas of my life that up until now I have safely avoided (or at least ignored until I couldn't anymore. )

Tim and I were talking last night and he was trying to get me to open up with him about it all since I am still resisting therapeutic help he reminded me that he's been a pastor for 15 years and has a little experience. He asked 'do you ever really talk about this stuff with anyone?' and I had to admit that I don't. Writing has always been my way of working through my thoughts, and so it was him to got me to a place where I am now sitting here writing this post.

Over the last winter, I have been struggling to understand my mental health and figure out how I got here, and where to begin in finding healing, coping strategies. I have also struggled with deep shame and sense of failure about it all.  Shame and failure. Just admitting that brings embarrassment.  Throughout the last 11 years, I have heard so many times about how well Tim and I have handled what we have gone through with Joshua. People continuously tell us how strong we are, how they admire the way we have coped... having to sit here and tell you that I am not strong, that I haven't been coping brings a deep sense of shame; and failure as I know this post will let people down. I also think back to those days of pregnancy after the diagnosis when God told me 'Be strong and courageous' I have failed there too. I want to be strong, I put on the smile,  I am pretending.

As the winter wore on it became clear to both Tim and I as well as my doctor that I am suffering from PTSD; I get it, my brain understands it but it makes me feel weak, it makes me feel like I am whining just saying it out loud and so I am stuck in silence and I haven't been able to move. There just seems like so much stuff to work through that I don't know where to start and so I take my pills and I try baby steps but then I slip and anxiety overwhelms me and I go back to hiding.

I don't want to hide anymore. I am tired. I want to let go of the shame, I want to be the honest person that I have always claimed to be on this blog. I don't want to let more people down, I want to do what God has called me to do, I want to be strong, I want to be courageous and so here I sit. Coffee beside me growing cold, a sore throat from fighting the tears that both threaten to flood me but also cleanse me.

This is not going to be worked out in one post; this will most likely be a series of posts as I allow you to join me on my journey back to myself, back to wholeness.

Thanks for reading, and listening.

L

Warrior child

Photo was taken last week

I was worried this afternoon.

In a gym with about 10 kids and two karate teachers, I listened as the sensei asked the kids to start the warm-up. First they had to do sprints, no biggy. Then they had to run sprints and touch the line, again no biggy, then he said I want you to run sprints and when you get to the line I want you to do 10 push ups... my gut twisted and I looked at Josh who was so focused that he didn't see my panicked look of concern. Lets just say Josh is not my 'co ordinated' kid; with a weaker right side and high muscle tone things like athletics don't come naturally to him. I quickly looked at my phone and tried to make it look like all was well but I was worried. Does he even know how to do a push-up? Does he have the arm strength to do this? I can see he's already winded from all the sprints, what if the warm-ups become the sticking point on what could be the perfect sport for him?

The kids lined up on the white line, they crouched and waited for the go signal. 20 eyes all set in one direction; I was only watching two of them and they were focused, clear, determined. I held my breath as the sensei yelled GO, and I watched as Josh sprinted past the younger kids, then past the tallest kid in the group, then as he slid to the first line I moved to the edge of my seat as quickly as he slid into the push-up position. One, then two, three, four... all ten perfect push-ups and before I could gasp for the breath I had been holding he was up and sprinting the next line to do it all again. I swear I was beaming, and my throat hurt from the lump that formed there. When he was done three sets he sprinted back to the start line; his smile said he knew what he'd done, and when he got to the line he looked at me with a shy "I'm too cool to want my Mom to show me how proud she is of me but I am still young enough to really care what she thinks" smile. I nodded at him and smiled in an"I'm proud of you but know that I can't jump up and run over there to give you a giant hug because you are nine and that would embarrass you' kind of way. It was a silent understanding that passed between us in that quick meeting of eyes, an acknowledgment that he has been aching for in every sport he tries. He wasn't last, he wasn't second to last, he was almost the first kid back to the line and he knew it.

As I sat on the sidelines watching him I saw the warrior child I have seen so many times in the hospital, or when facing something very serious or painful or scary. He had his "this means war" face on as he learned the punches and kicks and bows, where to place his feet, how to hold his arms, how to make a proper fist; and his attention to detail was noticed and commented on by his sensei who patted his back on the way out and then came over to chat with me about how great he was.

I was proud (to put it mildly). We have worked so hard, come so far together and while this was his success alone I have to admit I was just as anxious, just as out of breath, just as proud as he was. He has so longed to find a place to fit, a place to put his competitive side and not be crushed in defeat and today he rose to the occasion and he was shining.

For those of you who follow this blog (dwindling as it is because of my lack of writing lately) you will know that last spring this was something we were all praying for, a moment like this for him and I was very aware of all those prayers today when I sat on the sidelines watching God answer them.

Thanksgiving gift that keeps giving

Today in my memory app there were obviously a lot of posts about a special young man in my life, a sweet little Kaper who happens to be our Thanksgiving baby.  Each post went something like "I can't believe my baby is one already... WOW, Kaleb is already 2,  where have the years gone, Kaleb is no longer 3,4,5,6 and today, he's no longer 7. I shouldn't be surprised, each year I someone look at him and feel surprised that he's taller, older, more articulate, but that's life really right? The thing is, he's my baby, my youngest and last;  and it comes home with each year older he gets. There is something else that happens each year though, this amazing transformation of the baby, toddler, boy... a human who I have the absolute pleasure of watching emerge as a man. I watch him and feel so much pride in the person he's becoming. The kid who stops playing if someone is hurt and runs over to make sure they are okay, the kid who prays for peace when his friends are fighting, the kid who hurts when the world hurts, the kid who finds every bug, no matter how small and wants to bring it to me as a gift, a show of pride?, (maybe it's like a cat with a mouse? - still haven't figured this one out as I HATE BUGS) the kid who can be causing trouble while smiling at you and with sparkly eyes tell you how much he loves you so that it's impossible to be annoyed about the mess.  The kid who comes with me on a photoshoot as my assistant and manages to calm the clients, ease the tension they feel, find the perfects spots for shooting, and manages polite conversation like a pro.  This kid is going places, I just can't wait to see where.

Today as I reflected on his birth with him, I reminded him about how he was our gift from God for Thanksgiving; so that no matter what happens in life we will always remember to be thankful for the gifts we have been given and I was taken back 8 years ago to the moment when they took Kaleb out in the OR and put him close to my face, he sucked on my nose and my heart grew to  a size I thought impossible. The hole in his heart that they feared was there was pronounced healed and the pediatrician in the room looked at me and announced that he was a healthy baby boy. What a wonderful gift, what a beautiful memory. I don't have many memories from that day, I was pretty sick and some of my memories are mixed up or just stories that Tim has told me to fill in the blanks but those two memories are clear as day, I can still see the doctors eyes look into mine as he made his announcement and I can still see little Kaper's eyes as he sought me out, like he knew deep down that I was his Mama and that he was home.

There will never be a time when I don't wonder that they two amazing little people came from my body, there won't ever be a time when I don't realize how blessed I am that God is working in their lives and is there to help me raise them, there is never going to be a day that I breathe on this earth that I don't love them with everything in me, that I won't fight for them and pray for them and move heaven and earth to be the best mama I can be for them, even if it hurts.

Kaper,

I am so thankful for you, for your life, your heart, your passions, and joys, for the love that you show to each member of our family, for the wonderful conversations and bountiful snuggles. You cheer me, you encourage me, you take interest in me the way most children don't with their Moms. I am so fascinated by you, and genuinely interested in the person you are and will be. There is no way for you to know how much I love you until you have kids of your own one day but I do, so much. I want to wish you a happy birthday and to say thank you for the joy, the laughter, the love. You are truly a wonderful gift!

Happy Birthday! All of my love,

Mama xoxox

His decision

When the boys were babies we had a choice to make regarding whether or not we would have them baptized or dedicated; I had been raised that you had a believers baptism and when you were old enough to decide if you wanted to follow Jesus then you made that choice on your own; Tim was baptized as a baby and saw both sides as equally relevant so he didn't have a strong opinion either way, or at least he went with me on my preferred choice and together we stood before God and dedicated our boys to him, promised to raise them to know the Love of God and to understand his call to his followers. We took a lot of flack over our choice as it's not the typical 'anglican' way; we heard all the arguments and were even told that Josh wouldn't be so sick if we had gotten him baptized. However, I was sure of my convictions and we smiled at the nay sayers and did what we felt was right.

This past summer year and I have been reading the Bible together, as we worked our way through the New Testament this summer Josh was presented with baptism multiple times and he had a lot of questions about it; we had a lot of talks about the gift of Jesus and what it means to follow him. In early September the conversation again came up as we finished the Bible (and started it again as per Josh's request). As we chatted I asked him if he would like to think about getting baptized and again we had more talks about what that looks like, what it means. His biggest concern was that he didn't have enough faith yet. (Big smile here because if I had waited for enough faith I never would have been baptized). He said he wanted to think about it and I did the hardest thing a parent ever has to do, I sat back and let God work in him. I resisted the temptation MULTIPLE times to ask him about it, or talk to him; instead, I waited.

On Tuesday night Josh called me to his room to listen to a story he had on the audiobook. It was about a little girl who was running away from God, but he was pursuing her and using people to show his love to her. In the end of the story, she decided that she wanted to be a Christian. At the point of her decision, Josh jumped up and stopped the CD player with a big smile. I have to admit I was confused. I asked him what it was about this story he wanted to share with me and he replied 'I like that God loved her and she was running away but he kept showing her he loved her and then she chose to be a Christian" I smiled and agreed that it was a nice story and then I asked him. "Do you want to be a Christian Josh?" and he smiled so big it lit the room. "YES"! I want to be baptized and I want Daddy to it!".

I share this because I am so humbled as I am once again reminded that the Holy Spirit is working in my kids, he and Josh have been working together to come to this choice and I am so happy for him, and so thankful I didn't keep pestering him about it. When we started out by making a choice to dedicate over baptize it was so that this moment could come, where he made that choice on his own, not for Tim and I but for him and had I done what I really wanted to do (bug him about it consistently) he would have been doing it for me, or possibly not do it all just rebel against my harassment.

I am feeling really blessed as we head into this special celebration with Joshua. God is faithful.

Happy New Year!

Most people see January as the first month of a new year; rightly so I suppose since it is the new year after all. However, for me the new year traditions always come in September; maybe it's the years of starting school in september and always being told about fresh starts with a new teacher or new school etc. Whatever the reason I have never shaken the habit of seeing September as a place to rewind the things that need rewinding and starting fresh again, with new plans, new hopes, new goals. I always get my new agenda in September and when I see those crisp clean pages I feel a fresh beginning stretching out before me.

During the summer months I had time to think, time to refresh and what I found was a sense of lacking, a feeling of loss or complacency or maybe both. I couldn't figure it out, I was both sad and frustrated and I yearned for more but I couldn't tell you what that was.

The other day I watched a movie on Netflix and while I was watching it I was hit with a realization; it was a spiritual thing. My longing was for more joy, more closeness with God. My feelings of loss came from that lack of time spent with him; and my sadness was the missing of that closeness we had.

One of the things that became apparent quite quickly was that for me, writing is a way of sorting out feelings and thoughts, it helps unscatter my brain and figure out what is actually going on up there. So, here I sit. On the abyss of something absolutely wonderful that is to come. Starting to once again spend time each day, proper time, not just throwing prayers into the wind as I move from A to B. Time where I pray for my husband, for my kids, for my friends, for my church and for the world. Time where I share my thoughts and worries, fears and disapointments, hopes and dreams with the God of the Universe who made me for relationship with him. Already I am seeing him, like scales falling off my eyes I have begun to once again purposely look for the ways in which God is working in my life and the life of my kids and it's fun.

The other night Josh was praying for rain and cooler weather and I was quick to correct and tell him that God isn't Santa, you don't hand him a wish list and walk away... (which is true yes) but I quickly learned so much more about God and relationship when God gave Josh exactly what he had been praying for. It poured yesterday, I mean buckets, in between were sunny periods and then more rain, and it was cooler. When the kids got off the bus after school Josh was screaming "God answered my prayers!" and Kaleb was screaming "It's Josh's fault mama, God answered his prayers!' (When I say screaming I really mean it, the whole of the distillery district probably heard their proclamations of answered prayer. I laughed and we chatted about it, because here is what I learned.

1) God wants to hear from them, whatever they have to say, whatever their worries are, whatever their desires and while I need to help them learn I shouldn't try to control that budding relationship they have with Him.
2) God uses the littest prayers (like rain and cooler weather) to build a foundation of faith in the lives of his children.

I was so happy to see that rain yesterday, despite hating that it actually did rain, I was happy that God loves my kids so much that it matters to him that they believe in the power of prayer, and that they learn that their voices, their thoughts, matter to the God who made it all.

What a beautiful rain...
What a beautiful September...

Happy New Year.
L

opened the door and light came in...

Took a pie to his face at the carnival yesterday

Sometimes the answer is in the knowing. You wander around looking for a door in a dark hallway and keep stumbling into walls, hands in front of your face, you get tired, frustrated, scared, and usually bruised. Then, someone tells you, 'You are in a dark hallway' and suddenly you know that if you just walk straight ahead you will come to the door and find your way out. It's still dark, your hands are still in front of your face but you walk straight, feeling a little lower for the door handle and before you know it, you find the knob, turn, and light falls through the open door filling all the shadows and taking any fear away with it.

When the doctor told us that Josh was dealing with a depression it was like someone came along and whispered the answer in my ear, it was still dark and scary but I knew the path we were on and somehow that gave us the direction that we needed to take in order to help our son. The changes that have occurred have been significant. Last week the door opened and sunlight poured into that hall, gone are the shadows and darkness, there is so much light ahead.

Let me share what changed.

I won't lie to you when I heard the doctor tell me what was wrong I felt a lot of powerful emotions. I was scared, I was exhausted by what seemed like an insurmountable situation. I was so incredibly sad for Josh, and as a mother, I felt like I had somehow failed him. There were a number of things going on that has resulted in what is being called a 'circumstantial depression'. There was the new realization that his body has limits, and a deep sadness that came with that realization as he is navigating what that means for him now and in the life that he has planned out for himself. There were the kids at school who were being mean to him due to his limitations, tiredness, and honestly his anger at the feelings he was struggling with. Then there is the part where I come in. As a result of the stroke, Josh has ADHD (a rare kind that initiates in the central temporal lobe of his brain). He is on medication to help him focus and it has changed his life and ours as a result; however, it is a tricky medication because when the dose is wrong it messes with his seizure meds and he is at risk for break through seizures. I have noticed for a while now that his focus hasn't been the same as usual for a few months but if I am honest I didn't want to mess with his doses since I am terrified of him having more seizures and it took us so long to get the meds all sorted out for safe levels. I lowered his sugar intake drastically (much to his horror) and stopped all chocolate after lunch (again, this is a totally unwelcome change for Josh). The attention didn't get better and in fact, it was much worse. We would ask Josh to do the simplest things and it wouldn't get done, going anywhere with him was an exercise in frustration because he was more often than not in his own little world and would wander off, bump into people, or just generally drive us crazy with his total lack of focus in whatever activity we were doing. Tim, Kaleb and I were constantly annoyed and frustrated and I feel like we must have said 'Josh, pay attention' at least a thousand times a day. Josh's teacher also began having trouble getting him to accomplish his tasks at school which meant that at the end of the day when the kids were all done and playing games at their desks Josh was forced to continue his school work. All these things, all this negativity were his constant companions since January at least. It is no wonder that he internalized it all and began to slide a slippery slope into childhood depression. For my part I felt like the worst kind of Mom, and I had no idea how to make things better for him apart from a med change and a patience check every time I had to repeat instructions.

I began by saying sorry. That was the easy part; I sat him on my lap and I told him I was so desperately sorry for the part I played in the negative things in his life. His simple and easy forgiveness was a humbling experience. He seemed happier to know that I was promising to change, it was enough to know that I acknowledged his sadness. Then we talked. A LOT. We talked about the kids at school, we talked about praying for them and forgiving them, we talked about his limitations and how to engage them when he was feeling frustrated. It didn't change overnight and I literally prayed every time his name came to my mind. It was a simple prayer "I don't know how to help him, I can't do this for him but I know you love him so I need you to step in and do something for him". I was expecting God to give him a new friend, or change the hearts of the kids around him... but I wasn't expecting the answer I got.

I had a long talk with Josh one night about what happens at school and realized that it was really the afternoon recess that he struggled with the most since by then he was very tired and unable to keep up. We talked about not needing to play with the kids he knew, that he would be able to play with the kids who looked like they were doing something he would enjoy, or he could look around for a kid who was alone and ask that child if he wanted to play. Then we had a chat about how everyone has limits. Some people have a natural ability to do things like sports while others have a natural ability to do art or music or were naturally gifted in academics. We discussed that there were three main types of things in life.

1) There are some things that you will never be able to do. Sometimes you have NO SKILL or TALENT do something (and honestly you usually don't like doing that anyway so it doesn't matter) I for example can NOT do math. I hear a number and my brain freezes. No lie.

2) There are things that you are not naturally good at but you enjoy it. These are things that you need to work for, practice at, struggle with. I shared with him a story I once heard Ed Sheeran share about his music ability. He used to suck at it (really, he shared a recording of himself singing and it did suck) but he wanted it badly enough that he worked hard to make it happen and seriously, look at him now?!

3) There are some things that you have a gift in, things that come easily and readily for you, things that you do that some people can't.

I told Josh that while he was not naturally gifted at sports, he was good enough that if he practiced at what he enjoyed (baseball and a soccer goalie) he would become good, and only get better the more practice he put into it. Then I told him what I have known for a long time. He is naturally gifted at school. He's very smart, his teacher called him a math whiz and he's already ahead of his grade in math. He is also now at grade level in reading despite all therapists telling me that it would take him years to catch up because of the language center of his brain being affected by the stroke. By the time our chat was over I felt I had been lecturing him and he probably didn't hear most of what I had said... but the power to fix him was intoxicating and wanting to 'talk the problem better' was my way of making it go away. I finally said good night to him, gave him a kiss and silently prayed again that God would step in and do something for Josh.

The Saturday before last Tim and I had Josh to ourselves, we had errands to run so we took him with us and Josh was bored so he picked up Kaper's book which was left in the car and he was reading it. As we walked through the Man Depot and Sobey's Josh trudged along behind me... READING. I didn't make a big deal about it, in fact I didn't say much at all because I didn't want him to stop doing it. It was such a pleasure to see him actually choosing to read. When I tucked him into bed on Sunday night he mentioned a book that he had seen at school that he was hoping he would be able to get the next day, again I just nodded and smiled and didn't get too extreme afraid that it would put him off.

This is where I learned (again) that God answers prayers in ways that are best, not the way we may think is best, but what he KNOWS is best.

On Monday Josh came off the school bus holding up his new find, the first book in the Amulet series, he was beaming from ear to ear. His day, he said, had been fantastic. When I asked what made it fantastic he simply pointed to his borrowed book. He ran off to play and I went to make dinner. That night I had to ask him four times to turn out the light because he just couldn't put the book down. The next morning Josh told Tim 'this book has changed my life' and let me tell you something. It really has.

He has taken control back on the play ground. In the afternoon when he knows he's too tired to play he takes his book to a tree near the back of the school ground. A tree that he used to call his 'sad tree' and he sits there and reads. He no longer feels left out of that recess because of his limitations, he no longer worries about the kids telling him he can't play with them because when he's most tired he is making the empowered choice to not want to play with them. Since September Josh's Grandma has been keeping a tally of books that he has read, telling him that when he gets to 10 'proper size' books he will get $25. As of last week he was sitting at three books. Today the tally sits at 8 books. He did something last week I never thought I would see him do, he used his lego money to buy two books in the series, and thanks to some very generous people he is now the proud of owner of the entire Amulet series (book two is still enroute).

Yesterday I watched Josh from a distance while we were celebrating Little T's 175th. I was taking photos of the event so I saw him through the eyes of a photographer and not just his Mum. What I saw was a different child from the one living in our home for the last few months. He's engaged, where he was withdrawn, he's energized, where was exhasted, he's focused (in part due to med increase) and he smile was brighter than the hot sun we got to enjoy yesterday.

Sometimes the answer is in the knowing; knowing what the problem is that needs to be faced. Knowing the needs that need to be met. Knowing the probelm that needs to prayed for and the times when you need to hold, love, and nurture the problem; but sometimes God has a much better idea for how to work out a problem than we do and we need to step back and let him work. Josh will still have to learn to live with his limitations, he will still have to deal with his feelings, there is still work do but I was reminded this week of a few things, he is loved beyond measure by the God who created him and has a much bigger plan for him, by a God who knows how to help when I can't, and who is building him into a man who is ready for the future that He has in store for him. Knowing that, sometimes it's okay for me to step back and let God figure it out when I just can't. It's not my job to fix every problem the boys find themselves facing; it's my job to teach them to turn to God, and it's my job to pray for them daily, to seek his wisdom and guidence when it comes to the choices we make regarding them.

I also learned... I don't altogether suck at this mothering thing. Apparently I can't fix everything but I can hold them and love them, and sometimes that is all I am needed for. God has the rest.