Tag Archives: life

cancer, Family, Grief

Be Having Nothing to Give (choo choo!)

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We are on a one way track to healing.

Chugging down the track, snotty horns a blaring into my Kleenex.

The rickety old train with its heavier than normal road.

Chugging along.

Not making a stop.

Not picking anything up.

Just chugging along.

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You want to get on this train?

Observe carefully.

Run along and jump.

This train can’t stop.

It may never start again.

This train wants to hide in the shed.

But with three wee train cars on the back, there ain’t no rest.

Weekends, the big handsome steam locomotive comes along to give us a pull.

But other than that we are stuck with the dirty, coal steam engine.

Chugging.

On the track.

Teary eyes forward.

Trying hard not to fall off.

Wow, this is one big hill.

“I think I Cann, I think I Cann!”

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Boys, Family, Grief

Be With Boots

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Strap yourselves in.

Lie down.

Do what you need to do because boy do I have a story for you!

As I write these words I am very conscious that we each have an individual perspective on God, heaven, the meaning of life as well as life after death.

I want to be very clear where I am coming from so that you have a frame of reference for what I am choosing to write. My life is not directed by a church consciousness of God nor is my faith anything miraculous nor profound. My relationship with Jesus started in University in my childhood bedroom, alone with God answering a simple prayer: “God show me you are real.”

This simple prayer followed years of bible study, lukewarm times where I couldn’t see God at work, moments of zealously following God and now this.

This winter season living in a desert while rowing my boat in the ocean of grief. Woah!

Every present God.

Quilt maker sewing good and bad to make a beautiful quilt.

Coincidences that make me take a deep breath.

This one brought goosebumps to my arms.

A few days ago, I was sitting at the kitchen table with the three boys. When we have a quiet moment, this is when someone will usually bring up Nana.

On this day it was two year old, OC. He piped up, out of nowhere and said, “Nana with Boots!”
My ears almost fell off of my head. I immediately looked at JC, our six year old and said, “Do you know who Boots is?”
JC said, “No!”
Our four year old chimed in, “I have boots!”
I then asked OC again, “Who is Nana with?”
He said, “Boots.”
I paused then looked at the boys and told them that Boots was my childhood cat.
They looked at me wide-eyed then we went back to playing Lego.

Grief and God at His best!

cancer, Family, Grief

Be Removed From Life

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I am fully on my face, waiting for God to take my hand.

Guide me.

Like a blind woman.

Stumbling.

In imperfection.

With grace.

Most days, I don’t ‘know’ what to do. My ‘to-do list’ is empty. This autumn season taught me to reach for God’s cloak, this winter has taught me to wait for Him.

Listen.

One step.

One breath.

Wait.

My brain doesn’t work the way it used to. The uber-organized, relationship focused Joanna has disappeared.

Praying is difficult.
Reading onerous.
TV leaves me saddened.
Listening to others sad stories crushes me.
Hearing mundane complaints makes me want to turn and run.
Answer the question, “How are you?” boggles my brain.

Ambiguous comments and indirect speech where people don’t say what they want nor feel, is a language I can’t decode. It hurts my heart and pains my mind. I can’t make sense of this. Life seems to be pretty black and white to me at the moment.

“Will it help my family?”

“Will it help me take better care of myself?”

Sorry environmental concerns, fundraising for Africa, dust bunnies in the corners, life has collapsed in the Cann household and we are starting the rebuilding from the bottom.

Healing the people.

I am completely with my family, but completely removed from my life.

This is a Holy time.

Without fear.

With no judgement for myself or others.

With only sadness, love, desperation, laughter and rich family times all cuddled together like a beautiful rose wrapped present.

Removed from expectations, to do’s, fringe friendships, busyness.

Every night I lay in amazement at how God works everything out. How He holds me close and takes my hand. I am humbled by the people walking closely with me and how they know how to help without me saying a word. I lay in awe at the infiniteness of God and how finite He is with me.

The small things.

The whispers during my quiet days.

His presence.

Multitude of coincidences.

Grief, what a gift!

Family, Grief, Uncategorized

Be Painting the Walls Orange?

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Orange?

I am not sure where that came from. My thoughts are often strange peaceful and painful creatures I have never seen before. Apparently these creatures are currently orange.

My dad gave us this painting:

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And… I decided that I wanted to paint the wall behind this picture orange.

Take a look:

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(Oh ya, I am also painting the fireplace!)

Side note: my mom has painted every house that I have owned. She would come over with her own paintbrush and paint clothes. She would paint while I would keep the boys out of the paint. My mom, in her pain, painted the green cupboards in our current kitchen. I love my mom’s presence and the love she poured into our homes in more ways than one.

So…. I was feeling pretty crazy about this orange thought so I decided to text my soul friend on Saturday and she gave me this insight about orange: Orange means courage, passion, dunamis power, fire, harvest and strength.

Side note #2: (How many are you allowed in a blog?)
My insightful friend, A, gave birth to a baby girl yesterday! We lit a candle for her as we were creating our ‘Speak to me’ paintings.

But… Sexy Neck still wasn’t sure about the orange. He said, “Ask Ang!” I asked our designer friend Ang and she surprised us all with a “Go for it!” AND I DID!

Today, I started with a wall at the end of the hallway where we will put yesterday’s creations. I figured I would start small for my first wall painting endeavour. Then I moved to the big feature wall in the living room!

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Orange baby!

Painting through my grief.

Better than eating!

Working it out.

Staying present.

Letting go of fears.

Throwing out expectations.

Living outside of judgement.

Painting the walls orange parrot.

Thank you Benjamin Moore.

Awesome!

Side note #3: One more coat of paint tomorrow. Finish product photos coming soon!

Side note #527 I just received a comment from from Ang Interior Design friend. (See comment below)
Guess what orange symbolizes in the design world – “Orange offers emotional strength in difficult times. It helps us to bounce back from disappointments and despair, assisting in recovery from grief.”

Yup, orange it is! Now I have to lie on the ground AGAIN. Who knew colours could make connections to my life too!

Family, Grief

Be Fragile

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Often I don’t have the words to explain the person I am morphing into or how I am doing at a given moment. As I sit and wait and watch, I am amazed by the depth of feelings I experience both good and bad.

The dreaded question for the last few months has been, “How are you?”

I never know how to answer this, but on Friday I received tremendous insight and the ideal adjective.

First, the boys received a package from our good family friend, Donna, in 100 Mile.

Coincidently, her daughter, M, who lives in KCity chose this same day to drop off a treat and a beautiful card.

In the card she wrote this:

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Did you notice the word fragile? I did.

Lastly, I opened my mail later in the afternoon and had to lie on the floor once I read this beautiful card from our old PG neighbour and good friend, Ginny.

Take a look at this:

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Yup, fragile again!

“How are you Joanna?”
“I feel fragile. ”

My heart breaks in two anytime someone I love gets in a car. JC’s teacher’s words at his parent-teacher conference crushed me. Any small comment hit me at the core of my being.

I cry easily and feel deeply.

I am fragile.

Today, I choose very carefully who I interact with and where I go. I treat myself gently and give grace freely. I understand that I may not be the only person in this fragile place.

I am so grateful to those people who continue to walk with our family and my dad through our grief. I am grateful how God uses those around us.

A simple card.

A word.

Fragile.

cancer, Family, Grief

Be in the Beginning Stage of Grief

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I am self-assessing that I am in the beginning stage of working through my grief.

The fog.

The midbrain.

The haze.

The denial.

I grieve my mom, our move, our old neighbours, our best friend’s move, our loss of friends. Grief is a pervasive theme right now, layer over layer.

I’m in a place where I’m constantly late. This mama, who was “teacher trained” to be on time and to follow a schedule, can’t get her child to school before the bell rings.

I can’t read. This ferocious reader can barely read a paragraph. I haven’t picked up a book in months.

Form filling has now been passed over to Sexy Neck. I used to get a rush from filling out forms. The completion. The finality. The knowing of all the answers. Now, I could care less.

I used to love to organize: people, events and thinking about special gifts to buy. Now I have no energy or need or want to organize anything or anyone or to buy a single thing.

We are living with the bare necessities and having great conversations talking about needs and wants.

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Every day I wake up and wonder, What the hell happened?

It’s like a tsunami has ravaged my expectations, the sense of control and my relationship with my mom. There is debris everywhere containing everything she did with us, for us and just the huge ways she was a part of our everyday life. There are also huge chunks of debris involving my dad’s life, his retirement and their plans together. We get to see, move, feel and touch these pieces of debris every day.

It is exhausting.

Mind blowing.

Devastating.

I know that I am in denial as I can’t even talk with my mom, ponder where she is or even contemplate that I, Steve nor my children will have my mom in our lives again.

I sit in this beginning stage rowing through the waves of grief. I am going to give myself this time to do my ‘work’! As my counsellor tells me, I can do my work now or later, but I will have to go through it one day.

I am choosing each day to sit.

To ponder.

To wonder.

To cry.

To be.

Just enough, each day!

cancer, Family, Grief, Parenting

Be Having A Significantly ‘New’ Normal Day

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I have had an incredibly encouraging and heartfelt day with many new ‘God’ moments. I am full of gratitude. I feel ready to come back to the blogging world to reach out and share this journey once again.

God has been revealin Himself to me through lying down, rest, coincidences, nature (especially sunsets), His word, music, memories and now through simple everyday living.

He is alive.

I am back!

Renewed and new.

Hurting and humble.

Grateful.

🌀 Last night, I had my first dream about my mom. She told me she was going to travel around the world with her friend Sherry and my dad’s friend Oscar. (No idea why these two friends came up… but I have incomplete understanding of many things these days.)

🌀 A friend, A, sent me this book:

20140203-150103.jpg(Note the butterfly on the cover. A gift from God just for our family?)

🌀 I saw a friend’s daughter walking down the road. Another great gift as I am mourning never seeing my people from Vtown on a daily basis.

🌀 CC decided to take his Nana toque out if the bag that I gave out on December 21st.

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🌀 A new friend shared that her close friend’s two year old son died in his sleep. I cried with her and was able to recommend some good grief books.

🌀 For the first time, I noticed that a card that my friends sent from Vtown had butterflies all over it. Butterflies have become very significant for our family around my mom’s death.

20140203-191523.jpgThe card has been sitting above my sink but I hadn’t even noticed the butterflies.

🌀 God gave me this word from a bible study I have been doing:

“Forget about what’s happened. Don’t keep going over old history. Be alert, be present. I’m about to do something brand new. It’s bursting out, don’t you see it?”(Isaiah 43:18-19)

🌀 I have finally decided to open the Christmas gift my mom bought for me, wrapped for me and wrote a tag on all while enduring cancer. I am full of gratitude.

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I feel newness in my journey. I sense God has given me new eyes to see with my heart. I feel a deepening. I wonder what all of this newness will entail.

Wallpaper.

Words.

Helping cancer patients.

Holidays.

A new policy for doctors.

My people.