This wall is a paint can full of love for my boys.
First my man, Sexy Neck:
And then my wee boys:
My imperfect love poured out.
God’s redeeming love making it perfect.
All that I have.
All that I am.
Love I cannot describe.
Rich.
Humble.
Grateful.
A wife.
A mother.
Poured out through paint, through words, through actions.
Freely given.
Love.
And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love. (1 Corinthians 13:13)
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:
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:
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.
Sweet moments with our middle guy.
CC video:
I have already been praying for my boys’ partners. I feel that who you chose to marry is one of the biggest decisions a person can make.
I chose one pair of my mom’s ear rings for each of their partners. I pray that they can feel mom’s love, kindness, thoughtfulness and adventurous spirit.
Lots of interesting conversations here as we row our boats of grief together.
It is a beautiful, rich family time.
Why do I blog?
I don’t blog to earn money or to succeed at a job.
I don’t blog to get on Oprah’s network or to become ‘known’.
I don’t blog because I want people to like me or have people get to know me.
I don’t blog so that I can achieve any type of recognition or medal.
Ah ha, this is why I blog.
I blog to be completely present with my family, to be with my boys, physically and mentally, as they are growing.
I blog to watch in awe as my Sexy Neck father’s our boys.
I blog because I have a teacher’s heart. I love teaching by showing others what I am learning.
I blog because I love to write. I love playing with words, thinking about synonyms and metaphors and oh I love editing. Getting rid of words, making new ideas, rewriting whole paragraphs.
I blog because sometimes the topics I think of can’t be said. And I think about a vast array of subjects. Blogging gives me the privilege of sharing what’s in my head.
I blog because I am head over heels in love with God/Jesus/Holy Spirit. His presence in my life in unexpected ways is something that I want to share. I want to see His light shine in this often dark world.
Recently, I blogged to support my mom’s cancer journey and reach out to those around the world who love us. (How much love did we receive? My views went from twenty– which I was very happy with– to over 800 views per day!)
Now, I blog to stay afloat in grief.
To stay real.
To do my painful work.
To see God at work and to stay connected to my people
I blog to just be where I am and to Be Enough to my family and friends.
Why do you blog or why would you like to blog? I am curious.
I exist in a world I never knew nor imagined.
I ponder my mom’s depth of knowing, her presence in all our lives and her amazing Sunday dinners.
I wait for my mom to walk through door and say, “Hi Joanna!”
I wonder how did she die and really what the hell happened.
I think about snowflakes, butterflies and my mom’s final smile.
I talk to the people that know our story, my dad, my cousins, my close friends.
I walk away from my old ways, my old complaints, the things that no longer serve me.
I hide from sympathy. I hide from shallow words and frivolous complaints.
I sit still and rest. Feeling my body for the first time in many months.
I watch, I look for some sort of sign. A sign from heaven.
I hover, waiting to see what unfolds.
I know I will be okay today and that is enough!
If food was love my house (and my parents) would be exploding!
I am going to give you some insight into the last week. Just the last week! This food has been personally delivered to our doors with a smile and a hug.
Strap yourselves in here we go….
Fresh bread, fresh pie, turkey soup:
Thanks D!
Apples, pears, grapes and chocolate:
Thanks retired colleague!
Now, this one I wish I took more pictures of because it was a box of Mexican bonanza: Corn bread, chili, Mexican lasagna, shepherds pie and the fixings.
Thanks KCAM mommy A!
Today, I had a box of cookies arrive from the Island. Amazing D!
And now a wonderful woman and a husband of someone who worked with Steve brought over chili.
My heart overflows with gratitude for the food and the thought.
I probably have more pictures of food on my camera in the last week than my boys. How funny is that?
Food love.
Sharing the love.
Grieving the loss.
Envelopes.
Names.
Pen.
Sentiments.
Hand written notes.
Flowing with love.
Overflowing with tears.
Thank you.
Dear friends.
Friend’s parents.
University roommates.
Co-workers.
Neighbours.
Sexy Neck taking time.
Even more at Papa’s house.
Blessed in our grief.
Standing not alone.
Cards.
Pouring out love.
(Where’s Joanna hidden in this post? Laughing at myself!)
I am the ‘baby’ of the family. Three years younger than my older sister and three and four years younger than my close cousins.
My perspective on my parents changed dramatically after I left home and had to ‘fend’ for myself. I also felt like I had to make up for those teenage years where I was particularly rotten or at least that’s how the joke goes.
In my twenties, with a bit of distance from my life in the comfortable family home, I realized how much my parents had supported me, loved me, provided for me and let me be who I was.
My parents I would never describe as perfect but I think perfection in parenting is an illusion anyways. I would describe my parents as:
incredibly thoughtful,
loving,
heartfelt and
very present.
I chose these four adjectives because these are the qualities I hope to possess as a parent.
I want to introduce you to my dad:
Look at my happy OC with his favourite guy, Papa (aka, my dad)! OC only wanted Papa to push him around the pond.
My dad has had his own business, worked for others, but always put his customer’s first. We often laugh because he always did everything in person while working, never via phone or email. If you had an insurance policy to be signed, he would have said policy in front of you to sign. He still refuses to do any on-line banking, in person it is for him.
Dad was also my coach. He coached me with his other brother Darryl in ringette for eight years. My other passion before volleyball came into my life.
In his grief, my dad still takes the time to go skiing and skating with our family. He reads to the boys, sits with them and asks them questions. Often he cries and expresses his distress with “Oh Gwen!” or another word like “darn”! He is present in his grieving, conscious and kind.
Each morning, he welcomes the boys into their bed to cuddle and watch TV, just like mom did. Here are the boys this morning:
Pure Happiness!
What a man! What a dad! Imperfectly perfect, trying to do the right thing and conscious of all of us around him.
Thanks dad! Love ya!
"Be" ENOUGH 