Wisdom.
Creating time.
Slowing the flow of input and regurgitation.
Change.
Create openness.
Slowly learning more than I thought I could.
Grief.
Creating space.
Slowly realizing I will live on earth forever without my mom.
Autumn.
Creator brings forth colour.
Slowly coming to peace.
Enfolded in His loving arms.
Surrounded by incredible beauty and colour.
Embracing this season.
With joy.
In tears.
Always with gratitude for life.
Be.
Just being Joanna.
I am enough. 
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.
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.
I sense a loosening of many expectations I used to have, a fraying rope.
My grip is also loosening on so many of the things in my own home as I watch my dad go ‘through’ mom’s things.
I am blessed as many of the fantastic clothes mom had fit me. A few of her shoes do too!
I must admit though, that I am holding very tightly to a few little ‘things’: 
This is the birthday announcement we put in the newspaper for mom’s 70th birthday on March 30th, 2013.
A grocery list from last November.
The Christmas present tag my mom wrote for me last Christmas. She was very ill before Christmas but she always had her shopping done early!
As I look at the three little pieces of paper I wonder why they are important. I realized it is because they represent the little things.
My mom was excellent because EVERY DAY she did the little things well. She remembered my boys favourite foods and books. She celebrated every little thing – birthdays, first day of school, thanksgiving, Easter, Christmas, plays, practices…. EVERYTHING! My mom always thought of us, how she could help or what she could pick up or when we could get together. Our lives were interwoven. She thought about holidays and how to include everyone. She planned and organized all the details. Mom would often surprise us with beautiful handmade placemats or table runners that she had been working on for months before they were meant to be used.
She was very present for all the little moments. Sometimes, I would walk in my laundry room and find our clean clothes folded. Often she would clean out our hand vac. She always took the dogs for a stroll, just because she liked to think of the little things.
Right now there are a lot of ‘big things’ going on around me that affect our family profoundly (teacher’s strike, mainly).
I am taking a page from my mom’s book of excellence and I am focusing on the little things.
I am continually amazed by my children’s insight and childlike faith. I have discovered a deep understanding of the meaning when God asks us to have ‘faith like a child’.
Last night, I shared about the storm that exists for me in my rowboat of grief. I choose to show my grief to Sexy Neck, a few close friends and privately in my laundry room. I don’t expect my children to heal me, distract me or provide for my emotional well being. I sit with them in their grief but don’t expect them to sit with me in mine. But I am always surprised at how God uses them to teach me.
After I wrote yesterday’s blog post, the boys came to get Sexy Neck and I to watch a show. Wasn’t I surprised when I saw three chairs waiting for the ‘Up and Down’ show. The boys seated us and exclaimed as they pointed to the middle chair, “This one is for Nana!”
Nana always loved watching the boys shows, school performances and activities.
Childlike faith.
Ever present Nana.
God’s blessing.
Peace.
Love.
The waves pour over me.
The grief is profoundly painful.
Tears flows readily.
One year ago, my mom went into the hospital in excruciating pain.
Seventeen days she spent there.
The first time!
Our family was forever changed.
The knots that held my life together were unravelled, split apart and thrown into the fire.
Relationships changed forever.
Expectations shifted.
Pain.
Anguish.
Out of control.
Life. 
I will walk through my grief.
I will keep moving.
I know my strength, my weaknesses, my failings, my ways…
I will reach up towards the friends who love and accept me.
I will ride my bike.
I will give myself time and grace.
I will lie down when I need to.
I will not use food to soothe my soul.
I will not watch the news.
I will not put this on my boys.
I will not put my heart into a place where I could be wounded.
I will continue to deal with my stuff.
I will continue to loosen the rope, letting go of expectations.
I will cry.
I will seek God.
I will keep my eyes open for the light.
I will hold on as I go under.
Folks… How did I write 500 posts? Here is my 150th post! I wrote it almost a year ago. So, if I do the math correctly, in the last 365 days (which equals one year), I have written just shy of one post per day. Sexy Neck, am I right? Is this possible?
As I sit and write this five hundred and first post, where am I?
I am at the beginning.
The start.
Fresh.
New.
Beginning.
Each day I fully embrace. I feel more alive with deep emotion than I have ever felt.
Life is not about living in Disneyland, but enjoying those Disneyland moment. The exciting rides, the yummy sweet food, the cleanliness and friendly people.
Life is not about running from sadness, grief and hard times, but sitting in it. Living through it. Feeling deeply. The tears, the anguish, the copious amounts of laundry and people who will never make sense.
Life is about a beautiful woven quilt like my mom used to make. The light and dark fabrics making a beautiful pattern.
Life is about forgiving and starting fresh each day. The sun and the moon providing guideposts to help us do this.
Life is about surrounding myself with healthy people who may not understand me but honour me for who I am. People make a difference in my life, both positively and detrimentally. I am a relationship person. They are important to me.
Life is about being positive and focusing on my strengths. I could ‘work on’ all my negative attributes for the rest of my life and not move one mile, but I can continue to concentrate on my gifts and talents and hit the stars. Don’t we all find it easy to do what we love? Imagine if we chose to live this way each day?
Life is about beginnings. Learning to paddle board at sixty-seven years old. Going on a Tour de France Training Camp in Mallorca at age seventy. Being the very best Nana, mom, wife, aunt, sister and friend each day.
Thank you mom for teaching me about beginnings… And for being my guide through the ultimate of beginnings here on earth as a human being, death.
And now I ponder my own beginnings: starting a business, going back to school, new stages with my boys, fitness, health, volunteering, new activities, new friends and new starts with old ones.
Anticipation.
Excitement.
Pondering.
New.
Beginnings.
I took this book off the shelf this week.
I put it on the back of the toilet seat to open when I had a quiet moment while I lock myself in the bathroom.
Then I opened the book to this page:
These last few weeks I have been in a dark tomb of anger, fatigue, sadness and again wondering how to live this new life in the light without my mom. I have many words tumbling in my head, most not rated G. I am thinking thoughts I have never thought and experiencing deep emotions on both ends of the spectrum.
I feel sadness that knocks me over as I watch mothers with their mothers. I cannot move but just stare when I see the grandmas picking up their grandchildren, filled with joy, from preschool. I want my mom by my side on my bike. I desire her steady presence and insight into my life.
I weep.
I don’t know what the next moment will bring, but my heart is full of gratitude for the gift of Beth Moore, books, my ability to read and God weaving everything together.
Holding on.
Tight.
Sitting in my grief.
Damn, it’s hard.
Knowing this will not overcome me.
Trusting.
Being grateful for the life I have.
In Christ alone.
"Be" ENOUGH 