Today is The Day

He went to see his doctor today. He went to see his endocrinologist who keeps track of all sorts of important levels that the regular person has no regular thought of. He went for his regular annual check up, something he will probably have to do for the rest of his life. But he went to see his doctor today. And today was, seven years ago, The Day. The Day that is forever etched into the grain and ebb and flow of our family. The Day, the first day of a journey that has shaped our life & our family, our marriage & our ministry.

And today, I let myself wander back to that day. I sit there, and I feel it all. I realize that on this particular day, seven years ago, I had no idea what the rest of the story would be, how life would unfold, the crazy hard and the beautiful holy that I would witness. The truth is that we never do know what the rest of our story will be. We live in today and have a hope for all our future tomorrows. But today, I look back at the story, just briefly, and I let my mind ponder and treasure it all...

~How seven years ago tonight I left my husband in his hospital recovery room expecting him to, well...recover. His neurosurgeon had said everything had gone “very well.”

~How seven years ago I went to bed alone on this night, after tucking in my 4 young boys, and cried tears of release, anxiety, worry, and flat out hope.

Hope for something to change, for something to work, for the tumour to be all gone, for his pituitary gland to start working, for his body to begin the slow climb to health and wholeness and normalness.

Hope for our family, for the husband and dad that I once knew to return and fully embrace the life that we had built together.

~How seven years ago Jesus walked us through a valley that could have been so deep and dark except for the grace and light that kept us walking.

~How seven years ago we were given decisions to make that no one should ever have to decide.

~How seven years ago God brought us to a new dependency on Him, choosing Life and Trust and Faith when it would have been so easy to walk away...mad.

~How for the last seven years we have been learning how to live the resurrection life because God did just that. 

But I can’t help think about how different things could have been. I hear stories of others - so many stories - that ended differently than ours. Stories that are full of hope and Jesus even though they involve death and loss. And I wonder, “Why God?”, not questioning the very real pain we did go through, but rather pain we didn’t have to go through. “Why God, did you rescue him, save him, and flat out miraculously heal him? Why not her husband? Why did you not heal that pastor? Why did that dad have to leave his wife and children behind? Why God, did you choose life for Andrew - for us?" 

This is the question that sits in my heart, mind and soul each and every day. This is the question that calls me to more each day, that reminds me that even though I can desperately try to control my life, really I can’t and really, I don’t want to. 

God gives and takes away, and in either circumstance, 

He is still God and 

He is still good.

That God redeemed Andrew’s life when He clearly had every opportunity to take it, this is grace. That we, for the last seven years have been learning to live out the resurrection life that God has called us to, this too, is grace. There is so much in that, so much to figure out as we live it out. But we know this: God obviously isn’t finished with us yet. So we are determined and steadfast in our mission and purpose. 

Today is Day One is the story, the journey. It is a journey that continues to shape our life and family and marriage and ministry. This is life and when God gives you a second chance at life, you seize it and hold on tight because you know it's going to be a wild ride. 

In the Midst of Becoming

I had a heart jarring realization this weekend: 

I realized that my boys are all in the midst of becoming. 

They are all in the midst of becoming who they will be, maybe who they want to be, but also who they don't yet know they will be. It is both awesome and fearsome at the same time. We were all together for approximately 15 minutes on Saturday and we won't be together again until Thanksgiving when the older ones are home from school. This is a hard reality for a Mama, but at the same time there was an assurance, a settledness, and quiet peace that it is all going to be OK, that they will make it - and so will I.

Because they are all in the midst of becoming.

They are all - each one of them - in the midst of doing exactly what we have raised them to do: grow, love, serve, share. As their parents, we have poured in and nurtured and prayerfully provided the tools that we hoped would allow them to be the hands and feet of Jesus to those around them, to be an extension of God's love and grace and mercy into our world - into their worlds. 

This is who I see them becoming. This is what I bore witness to on Saturday as we were all together standing on the grounds of the camp where 3 of them were loving, serving, and sharing this summer. 




This is what I let sink deep into my heart as my 4 boys-becoming-men stood huddled in a circle sharing a bond that only brothers can share, sharing their unique language of time and love and laughter that has been forged over the years. A unique brother-bond fashioned through some heartache and pain, through some tough times and many great years together, but also with more than a little bit of grace poured in to provide healing and to build trust. Life!

As I watched my boys and realized they were in the midst of becoming, a new truth settled in my heart. It was a truth that is reflective of Jesus' mother, Mary in Luke 2:19, "But Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart." Later, in 2:51, we read the same sentiment, "But his mother treasured all these things in her heart." Both of these verses come directly after a time when I imagine Mary realizing that her Saviour-Son was in the midst of becoming - He was becoming who He was meant to be in and for our world. These verses directly follow two different times when Mary could have been angry or upset or confused by Jesus' behaviour and actions. Yet she did not respond that way. Instead, she responded with a heart that treasured all her son was, while being in the midst of becoming all he will be. Mary didn't miss these moments but rather she acknowledged them and held on tightly to them. 

Mary treasured both the moment and the Man deep within her heart.

Like Mary, I want to treasure these moments when I witness my boys in the midst of becoming who they are meant to be. I want to treasure both the moments and the men, and I want to celebrate them in the midst of their becoming! When God gives me a glimpse into all my boys are becoming, I do not want to miss it. I want to treasure it - oh boy, do I ever want to keep it nestled deep within the safety of my heart, where no one can take it away. This is the sacred privilege of being a Mom - these moments are mine to treasure in a way no one else can or will. 

Hold tightly, dear Mama. Your moments are yours and yours alone.

In truth, we are all in the midst of becoming because the act of becoming is a process - and an ongoing, never-ending one at that. Let's celebrate being in the midst of becoming together! Let's acknowledge and encourage each other on the journey to becoming more of who we are each called to be. This does not mean life will be perfect, all will be well, and no wrong decisions will ever be made. Rather it is in the midst of the messiness of life that we continue to grow, change, and learn. It is in the midst of the beautiful messiness of life that we become. So let's celebrate the moments, the people, and the God who walks with us on this journey and who delights in celebrating with us! 

I know that our becoming - my boys' becoming - is more about who Jesus is than who I am, who my husband is, or who my boys are. I do not take credit for what God has done. I do not take full credit for who my boys are, but I am so very, very thankful to be the Mom who gets to watch, treasure and celebrate these moments and these men in the midst of their becoming.

Waiting Area E

Yesterday seemed like a day full of waiting. Have you ever had one of those days? It seems like you get every red light even when there are only four, every long line stuck behind the avid price-matcher, every chatty and slow moving cashier, every person actually driving the speed limit, and right now, every major intersection seems to have a massive construction project happening. That was my yesterday.

Then there was the almost three hour wait at Prism Eye Institute where my son and I sat in Waiting Area E only to find out he didn’t need the procedure he took the day off work for and we had driven all the way there for. 

The whole day felt like waiting.

While sitting in Waiting Area E, I could sense the frustration settling in at about the 2 hour mark. My son had had 2 sets of eye drops, his pupils pushing out the deep brown of each iris in preparation for the doctor to look at his retina with an excruciatingly bright light. We muttered to each other, wondering if they had forgotten us. It seemed as if all the people in Waiting Area E, as well as in neighbouring Areas D & F, had left. The once crowded space was now almost eerily spacious and it just felt...weird.

As I sat there, I was reminded of a couple of things. Not to make this a political post, but the first picture that went through my mind as my legs and back began to ache from sitting in an uncomfortable chair, my feet just barely able to touch the floor, was the multitude of men, women and children waiting at various border crossings. These humans are not waiting three hours for an eye fix, they are waiting days, weeks, months for a life fix. That was a deeply humbling reminder right there in my own Waiting Area E.

The second thing was the reminder about something I had just talked with friends about the night before. This was the practice to “be where you are" which Emily P. Freeman spends a chapter on in her book, The Next Right Thing. So I decided to be exactly where I am. I remained in my (uncomfortable) chair, put my head back on the wall, closed my eyes and listened. I just listened to where I was. Suddenly, I could hear all the quiet noises in the little rooms around me. I could hear the moving and shuffling and muttering that is the heartbeat of this office. I could hear the people doing their things, the doctors quietly opening and closing doors, a phone ringing in the distance, the click-click-click of a keyboard somewhere. Everywhere around me was life - movement and motion that kept it all going.

In that moment this waiting space became sacred space. Maybe no one else knew it, but God entered Waiting Area E yesterday afternoon. He sat down beside me. His presence pervaded my waiting and changed my perspective. His presence blew patience and humility into my soul as He ushered grace and mercy - and peace - into my waiting space. Grace for myself, my son, for our 2 other waiting companions, and for those we waited on.

Waiting isn't always easy. But when we wait with patience and grace we give God the space to be present. His presence can do a multitude of things, including changing our perspective as we quiet our souls to listen for Him. A quiet soul paves the way to knowing more of God; being still precedes the knowing. It causes us to stop and be quiet, to listen and to drink deep of the good graces and soft whispers that are offered to us in that quiet place of our souls when we pause and wait long enough to hear Him. 

Even if your physical waiting space is not quiet, invite God to join you there. Have Him pervade your waiting space and make it a sacred space, as only He can.

"Wait on the Lord. 

Be courageous, and he will strengthen your heart. 

Wait on the Lord." 

{Psalm 27:14}

Who Is In Your Mom Tribe?

Last weekend I participated in one of the many mom-rituals that happen this time of year - I dropped off my boys to summer camp. For a little more than a decade of summers, we have been packing the suitcases with shorts and shirts and bathing suits and Bibles and journals and bug spray and sunscreen. Don't forget the hats, sleeping bags and pillows, baseball gloves and frisbees, bug nets, towels, and extra socks, most of which return unworn but still needing to be washed.

Pioneer Camp holds a special place in our hearts. This picture is a few years old,
but the sentiment is the same.

As I was waiting in line to register my 16 year old for the Leaders In Training program, I looked across the room. I saw familiar faces in the crowd. But these weren't just any faces. 

They were faces of mom-friends that I have loved over the years, and they were faces of boys-becoming-men that I watched grow up. These faces that were once pudgy and pink and ice cream covered running around my backyard, are now on the brink of manhood, standing tall and towering over their mothers, shaking peoples hands, their once-loved (hated?) bucket hat replaced by a much cooler ball cap.

In some ways time is a thief, stealing away all that once was, to be locked in the treasure chest of yesteryear. As I watched these boys, I could still see glimpses of who they used to be, and I could barely stop the stream of memories that paraded through my mind - memories of birthday parties and play dates and church picnics and hockey arenas and backyards and school yards. Those were good days and a part of me wanted them back.

But in many ways time is also a gift. Time is what helps us see change and growth, through both joy and pain. As I looked across that room, it was the gift of time that allowed me to love and appreciate these women, these boys. It was time that I spent with them and it was the time that I had, more recently, spent apart from them. 

These women were - and continue to be - part of my Mom Tribe. These are the women who drank a lot of coffee while chasing our kids around backyards, basements and playgrounds. These are the women who served a plethora of grilled cheese sandwiches, chicken fingers & smiley face fries, hotdogs, and mac'n'cheese, with just enough cucumbers and carrots to pass the veggie test, at countless midday lunches. These are the women who sat patiently through the tears, who doubled over in deep laughter, who cheered the loudest when he was *finally* potty trained, and who prayed the hardest through fevers, broken bones, and temper tantrums. These are the women who provided wisdom and grace, patience and perseverance, courage and confidence to run the race of motherhood and continue to do so as we mother our kids through the teenage years and beyond.

These are the women I entered motherhood with, went through motherhood with, and am still walking motherhood with. 

These are the women that helped shape me as a Mom because let's face it, we all enter motherhood having no idea what we are doing! This Mom Tribe that I found myself a part of, we all learned this motherhood thing together. And while I saw just a few faces in the crowd last weekend, there are many, many more that I would consider to be part of this Tribe. Some for a long time, some for a short time, but all impacting me, shaping me, inspiring me to be a better Mom to my boys.

Many others have joined my Tribe along the way. Different seasons bring different people and with them come much needed wisdom and discernment. I am thankful for each and every women who has shared wise knowledge and spoken hard truth and provided unconditional love along the journey. I am thankful for those who have gone before me and have shared their wisdom and resources, and I am thankful for those who are coming behind me, who are seeking to raise their kids to be Christ-followers in our world. I am thankful for those friends who loved on my kids even when they did not have kids of their own.

Who is in your Tribe? 

Who was there at the beginning? Who is there now? It's summertime and we all have a little more breathing room. Maybe it is a good time to thank your Mom Tribe and to acknowledge the good graces that have come into your mothering because of them.

Who would you like to have as part of your Tribe? Someone who has gone through your season and can provide insight, knowledge, creativity and grace into your current place. Spend some time thinking about who could add to your Tribe this way.

Motherhood is not something any of us can do on our own. It takes a village, yes. But more than that it takes a community. It takes a Tribe of women that are in your corner through thick and thin, who will cheer the loudest and pray the hardest because when it comes right down to it, they love your kids too. 

Let time be a gift to you - and your kids - today. 

"I thank my God every time I remember you" 

{Phil 1:3}

{Days 5&6} On Being Circumloquaciously Wordy

It was 1996 and my husband and I had decided to go to Canada's Wonderland. We had just recently been married and were feeling young and free. In hindsight, this feeling was true: we were certainly young and we were mostly free of the responsibilities that were yet to come with jobs and mortgages and marriage and children. In all honesty, our motivation for going to Wonderland this particular day was to see a singer/songwriter friend of mine who was performing there. I had not seen her in years; the last time I saw her she was the girlfriend of my Youth Pastor and we both lived in British Columbia. Now we were both married, and she still lived in British Columbia but I lived in Ontario. I had much respect for her when I was a teenager, and so my desire to see her live in concert was driving this trip to Wonderland.

I honestly do not remember much of the rides, the food, the weather, how our day went, the specific events of the day. What I do remember is one phrase that she said in her concert. She was recounting her hard work on a paper she wrote in university and how she struggled to get all her words down into something that made sense, resulting in a final paper that she knew was too long. The comment her professor left her went something like this, among some other words (and I quote this very loosely, for it was many years ago):

"You are circumloquaciously wordy..."

I think this stuck with me because I had no idea what that meant. I am smart enough to use my knowledge of words to be able to infer what her professor was saying to her, but I did not know what that big word actually meant. Clearly though, the professor was making a point about my friend's words by choosing a rare, rather obscure word to describe her writing. What this word actually means is this: "referring to someone who is using excessive language to evade a question, to obscure the truth, or to change the subject." (urbandictionary.com) Given that my friend is now an accomplished writer of songs, articles, books and many other words, I think this word was chosen for impact and not for it's true meaning. My friend has learned the art of using words to talk directly to the point, not evade it or obscure it. Her love for words has inspired many to wrestle with the questions of faith and spirituality, and it has led her to write songs of poignant truth.

But the point remains...choosing the right words is important. Especially as writers who desire to breathe life into thoughts and ideas that sit deep in our souls, that percolate there with anticipation, waiting for the right word to express the joy of celebration or the anguish of pain or the confusion of being somewhere in the middle. This is the art of good writing. The act of sitting with big ideas and specific thoughts, waiting patiently for words to flow, wrestling with countless words and the word count, taking the smattering of scattered notes and drawing them together to create something beautiful.

That's just it. Writing is creating beauty - a series of individual words, written in such an order to create something beautiful, inspirational, encouraging, gracious, motivating, and true. Think on these things. Write about these things, for it will be these things that point us to Heaven and give us hope and strength.

Whether you struggle with too many words or not enough words, with scattered notes or organized thoughts, you are in the business of creating something beautiful. A masterpiece that reflects the beauty of God, the author and perfecter of our faith and our craft.

Seize the day, seize whatever you can
'Cause life slips away just like hourglass sand
Seize the day, pray for grace from God's hand
Then nothing will stand in your way
Seize the day

("Seize The Day" from I Can Hear You, Carolyn Arends, 1995)

{Days 3&4} Flow & Idea

I had a lot to do tonight, but none of it included rescuing an injured turtle, making cookies, or wearing a Carolina Hurricanes jersey.

And yet all of those things happened, disrupting my plans for the night.

Sometimes things don't do quite as we plan. At then end of my work day, a friend sent me a text and asked me if my son would like to go out tonight with her kids. He sure would! (Even though I didn't ask him first). Then my mind went to making plans for my quiet night, at home, by myself. There was so much I could do.

But rescuing a turtle, making cookies and wearing a Carolina Hurricanes jersey was not on my radar. At all.

Sometimes our flow and our ideas are interrupted. We plan for one thing, expect one thing, anticipate one thing and yet something different happens. A phone call, a friend, a child, an animal, a need - there are a thousand things that could possibly come to interrupt our plans. And these interruptions  can be frustrating if we don't allow ourselves to view them as God's interruptions into our lives. Interruptions mess with the flow of our lives, our thoughts, our plans - our writing. Sometimes I think I interrupt the flow of my own thoughts because I don't really know what my thoughts are! I welcome random interruptions - maybe even look for them - because then I don't have to face the work or responsibility that awaits me. Except when they are God's interruptions. Then we need to take a step back and wonder what God is up to. 

What if we began to view the interruptions in our lives as surprises from God? What if, instead of being frustrated by them, we welcomed them as a surprise gift? An opportunity to show love, to share a piece of what we have, to offer some of who we are to someone else. 

Tonight I found an injured turtle on my road, and as a result I met a neighbour, as well as the man who delivers the newspaper. We scooped up the turtle and placed it on the side of the neighbours pond. Then I called the SPCA, and they came and rescued the injured turtle. Life saved. 

     

                                              

Tonight I made cookies because Mitch has decided to have friends over after school tomorrow. I am a big believer in having food for boys in my house. If you want your kids' friends to want to be at your house, then feed them. Always feed them. And cookies are always a hit. Friends made.

                                        

Tonight I am wearing a Carolina Hurricanes jersey because Eric wanted Mitch to wear it in solidarity for his newly adopted team's run to the Stanley Cup Finals. Mitch however, is not home. Therefore, in support and solidarity with my son, I wear his jersey and cheer for the Canes. Nobody in the GTA likes the Bruins anyways. Family saved. 

      

The next time your grand plans, your flow, your ideas are interrupted and your agenda seems skewed, stop and wonder what God is up to. Look for the surprises that God has in store for you in the midst of these apparent interruptions. 

If you are anything like me, these surprises will come in random things like injured turtles, making cookies, and wearing a hockey jersey.

{Day 2} Mantra

Honestly, I had to look up the definition of "mantra" to see exactly what this was about. It is "a statement or slogan repeated frequently" according to the every helpful dictionary.com.

I wasn't sure how I was going to tackle this word. Did I have a mantra? Have I ever had a mantra? I let that question sit with me all day, let it ruminate in my soul to see where it landed. I decided that whatever my mantra might be had to reflect my belief, my faith, my heart, and ultimately my life. I chose this verse, which beautifully sums up what I believe my mantra would be, if indeed I had one.

"Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things." Phil 4:8

Think about such things. Write about such things. This verse does not just mean the good and the beautiful and the perfect, but it also speaks to how the things in our life can be true but hard, they can be right but confusing, pure but tainted, lovely but messy. The good and the bad, the beautiful and the broken - they all offer a moment of gratitude even if not in that exact moment. All of life can point us back to Jesus if we let it, and this is what I want my life mantra to reflect...Jesus.

These are the things I want to write about. Life itself motivates my writing. It's not just about the events, but rather the story that those events begin to write. Stories of mercy and grace and hope. Stories that inspire and encourage, that may challenge and touch the deep places of our souls. Stories that are real. Stories that are meaningful. Stories that are true, noble, right, pure, lovely and admirable. Stories that are written by a God who loves us and holds us close even when we feel far away.

Think about these things. Write about these things.

Photo credit: YouVersion

{Day 1} Start

Just start.

Starting can be the hardest part of any new choice, new opportunity, new beginning. For me, this new start is kind of like a restart. This journey into the world of writing and words and wonder...it's scary, it's overwhelming, it's exciting. I looked back to realize I posted my first blog post in 2010. Sigh...

I quite "accidentally" stumbled upon hope*Writers Instagram post which placed a challenge before inspiring writers. It is a 12 Day challenge to write using the writing prompt posted. I'm not sure why I thought this would be a good idea. I don't think I actually thought the whole thing through very well. But I wrote my post and put it out there for all to see. And it was all I could do to not take it down. I wanted to hit the delete button and pretend it didn't happen. I wanted to hide, and I certainly hoped that people wouldn't actually read it.

Why did I do this? Why is this out there for people to read and follow along? Can't I do this privately? Can't I just journey these days without everyone knowing, seeing, reading? 

But if I'm writing, doesn't that mean someone will be reading? So it has to be out there. I have to put it out there. Fine.

Fear: Everyone will know when I fail. 
Lie: The world doesn't need my words, doesn't need what I have to say. 
Insecurity: I have nothing new to say that someone else hasn't already said.
Sad reality: I don't even know how to format a pretty Instagram post. #truth

I've been reading "The Next Right Thing" by Emily P. Freeman. In Chapter 4 of her book she recounts a story of her husband approaching burnout in his ministry, and how they were given a chance to rethink, revision and redo their vocation choices. She shared how in the end, they chose something different from what was. This is the most recent in a number of similar stories that I have read about ministry families facing a pivotal decision based on circumstance, family or personal health crisis. Each time the person chose something different from what was. They embarked on a new path, a new journey, a new ministry, and to some degree, a new life.

So when my pastor husband was faced with his own personal health crisis that sent us into copious amounts of hospital visits and doctors consultations and tests and surgeries, with complications that landed him in the ICU where he faced Jesus and chose "Life" whatever that might look like, we were ultimately faced with a decision as a family: what does life look like now?

The story is much longer than that, but my wonder to myself is about the choices we made at that time. Now as I read this book, and embark on this renewed inner passion of mine that seems more like a hobby that I've shelved because of where life has taken us, I do so within the mental, emotional, spiritual and physical framework of our decisions that followed this crisis. I know that I can't remake those decisions. As much as I might like a do-over, that is not an option. But what is an option is to work out what is happening right now in my heart and soul.

For now, I am just trying to do the next right thing. You are welcome to follow along on this 12 day journey with me, as I willingly become a beginner at this new thing, as I follow this arrow that God has laid in front of me.

Thank you Emily P Freeman for the motivation to jump back in, and thank you hope*Writers for the inspiration to do so.