A day to celebrate.
A time to remember.
Hiking up.
Sharing stories.
Letting go.
December 26th, 2014
The boys ran ahead and look what they made:
I am continually amazed at the boys ability to remember, feel sadness and pour out love.
Category Archives: cancer
Be Running Two Programs
My computer has been getting awfully slow.
Painfully.
Mindnumbing.
Slow.
I sit and wait and then I realized that there was another program running behind the program that I was trying to use.
So very frustrating.
But I sit.
I slow down.
I ponder.
HEY!!!!!
This is exactly how I feel right now.
I am running two programs.
The first program I will call, “Daily Life”.
Making lunches.
Taking the boys here and there.
Saying hello to people in the drop-off at school.
Attending Christmas concerts.
![IMG_7384[1]](https://beenough.me/wp-content/uploads/2014/12/img_73841.jpg)
Answering emails from friends.
Baking cookies.
Doing my work as a teacher.
Living “Daily Life”.
As Christmas approaches and the one year anniversary of the death of my beautiful Mama, I have a second program that is starting to take up more and more space in my body, soul and mind as I try to run the program “Daily Life”.
This program called “Grief” is similar to when mom first died.
It is painful.
Mindnumbing.
It is slowing me down.
I am remembering things from last year that I hadn’t before.
Conversations.
People visiting the hospital and hospice house.
I am feeling things deeply.
I am letting this “Grief” program do its thing.
As this background program runs it makes the “Daily Life” program slower, yet more meaningful.
I sit more.
I watch.
I ponder.
I have more patience.
I am kinder.
More loving.
I savour sunsets.
![IMG_7385[1]](https://beenough.me/wp-content/uploads/2014/12/img_73851.jpg)
I am in awe more and teary more often.
Everything tastes better.
I feel things in “Daily Life” more deeply.
My life is rich with these two programs running.
Yes, I am tired.
But, I am living deeply.
Leaning into my Lord.
My Dada God.
My Personal Saviour.
He is my rock.
The ultimate Programmer who will bring purpose to my pain.
Meaning to my mess.
Wholeness to my broken heart.
He will redeem this hole that was created when my Mama went to heaven.
I love her deeply.
I miss her dearly.
I am blessed.
I am whole with my hole and my two programs running.
Thank you “Daily Life” and “Grief”.
What programs are you running today?
Be Awakening to White
We awoke to copious amounts of snow.
Bright.
White.
Snow.
It ended up being a shovelling, sledding, snowman building morning before the school bell rang.
For me it was a bright light in the midst of dark times where everyday someone is talking about Cancer, telling me about their mom’s surgery or walking with their mom past me.
The loss of my mom continues to be deep and dark.
The love and traditions my mom had around Christmas continue to bring light. She was an incredibly thoughtful mom and Nana.
I am awakening to this new light.
White.
Bright.
Everlasting love.
Thank you mom!
Thank you God for fresh, white, new snow.
Be Getting Ready to Sell Some Green Tea HAWAII
I feel sick.
I am afraid.
I am checking my list.
I am humbly asking for help.
I am going out of my realm of comfort.
I am preparing to sell some Green Tea HAWAII at a Craft Fair on Friday. 
Yup, me!
Selling tea!
I am not a salesperson.
Nor driven by money.
But I do love this product.
I believe in its health benefits.
So I will stand and share.
I will invite anyone who asks to join my Green Tea HAWAII tea party!
A girl’s dream.
A giant tea party!
Be Living in the Gift of Grief
Every day change occurs.
Inside and outside of myself.
Whether I like it or not.
Seasons change.
People change.
Decisions are made.
Babies are born.
People die.
I am not where I was or who I was a year ago even though I relive last year every day.
Surgery for mom.
Hospital trips.
Watching her in pain.
Watching her die and not even knowing it.
Now I know.
Now I see.
Now I feel.
The numbness is gone.
I live in unbearable pain every day.
Fatigue-inducing.
Gut-wrenching.
Leg-weakening.
Pain.
BUT….
I also live with unimaginable gratitude every day.
Life-embracing.
Life-giving.
God-loving.
Gratitude.
The gift of grief!
I soak in my book club women’s smiles, ideas, disagreements and laughter.
I slow down and look.
Really look.
The ability to see and feel the autumn leaves changing is a time to rejoice.
Being able to walk under a bright red umbrella of leaves makes me stop. 
Listening to the scrunch, crunch, munch of leaves under three year old OC’s tires as he madly pedals his two wheel bike makes me smile and giggle.
And playing in the leaves with my boys is one of the sweetest moments in these last deep, dark weeks.
What will you notice today?
Who will you choose to spend your time with?
The gift of life!
Choice.
Noticing.
Relationships.
Grief.
Gratitude.
Life.
Be Grateful (Thanksgiving 2014)
Last Thanksgiving, when all was stripped away, my mom
brought us together and she was thankful. Even when cancer was ravaging her athletic body last fall she had us all over for dinner. We even took family photos.
And she showed gratitude at the effort we all made to be together. We were enough!
No complaints.
No ‘I wish’…
Just gratitude for the moment.
And talk about being cold!
(She was SOOO skinny!)
This year for Thanksgiving, I wanted to be somewhere else. I wanted someone to make my mom’s potato romanoff and someone else to shove their hands into a cold dead bird. Perhaps, someone could have organized this brood of boys into a drama troop like mom did in 2013.
Dreams.
Wishful thinking.
Long ago memories.
This year, it was my turn.
No running.
No excuses.
My opportunity to create memories and show gratitude.
I stuffed and cooked a magnificent Turkey. I turned mom’s special potatoes into a soupy disgusting mess. We had gravy, olives and apple pie. My boys played a song on the piano showing their new skills to their proud Papa. We shed a few tears with dad and we were together.
Remembering mom.
Wishing she was here.
Creating memories.
Full of gratitude for all that I can do!
Grateful for those who reached into my grief during another ‘first’ since my mom’s death.
Grateful for every person who has truly shown empathy to my family.
Grateful to be alive with my boys!
Be. Be. Be.
Be present.
Be listening.
Be open.
What does a mom say when her two year old looks out the car window one Wednesday morning and suddenly yells, “I see Nana in heaven. On the mountain.”?
What do you do that same day when your middle son paints a picture of Nana in heaven? He’s painting her right now.
And what do you think the next day when you have your oldest son’s friend over and she asks you to put on music and play “It’s a Small World”, my mom’s favourite ride at Disneyland?
Be present.
Be Listening.
Be open.
I am grateful my children are so assured their beloved Nana is in heaven. I can’t even accept she has died.
I love that my children are so connected to their ever-present Nana that they think to paint her. I can barely look at her photos without being overcome with sadness.
I am blessed that there are so many signs on a daily basis that remind all of us of my mom’s love, kindness and who she was. She was a great human BEing.
Be.
Be.
Be.
Be Midnight Me
Last night I wrote the poem below at midnight, not because I wanted to but I am realizing that this is a good time for me to write.
Quiet.
Dark.
Completely present.
Being.
My mind zips along on its hamster wheel of thought.
Writing helps me grab words, themes, feeling and alas the wheel stops.
One year after my mom’s second session of crazy poison chemotherapy, my grief is deep. The benefit of living a year past this moment is that I know the waves won’t consume me, the grief won’t paralyze me and my sleepless nights will end.
Here are my midnight musings:
Midnight Me
I am a northern girl.
A redneck to some.
I am six feet tall.
A woman.
Imperfectly perfect in His image.
Overflowing with God’s grace.
(Cause He knows I need it!)
I am a Jock.
And an artist.
A mover and shaker.
A beautiful outlaw.
A writer of words.
A bearer of my soul.
A sole bearer.
My heart hurts.
As I ponder.
Watching my best friend.
My mama.
Die.
She has gone ahead of me.
Leading the way to heaven.
My mom’s life and death has re-ignited the gift Jesus gave me at 19.
A reminder.
Freedom to the captives.
Hope.
Grace.
Love.
The rope is frayed.
Split.
Disintegrating.
Nothing holds me back.
Expectations.
Judgement.
To do lists.
I am free!
Glory to God alone who brings freedom to the captives and weaves EVERYTHING together for his goodness.
"Be" ENOUGH 