Tag Archives: mom

Be With Boots

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!

Be Before and After At the Wall (orange wall)

There is a sacred place in Jerusalem called the Wailing Wall or Western Wall. This wall is believed to have been part of the Temple of Solomon. Checkout 1 Kings 6 and 2 Chronicles 3 in the bible for more insight.

As I have been painting our living room wall orange, I have been pondering the Wailing Wall. This is a sacred place for Jews to go to pray and lament. My personal orange ‘wailing wall’ has been a place where I pray and lament.

I pray:
⭐️ May this home be a sanctuary.
⭐️ Help me Jesus!
⭐️ Lord, be enough for me this day.
⭐️ Help me ‘understand’ why I want to stuff my mouth with food.
⭐️ Lord, be with each of my boys. Be present to them.
⭐️Help me put one foot in front of another when all I want to do is lie under my duvet.

And I lament, oh how my heart grieves so many things:
💔 Our best friends moving to Vancouver Island last March.
💔 Moving from our ‘hood’ on 29th Crescent in May.
💔 Mom starting to show she is unwell in June.
💔 Saying goodbye to friends popping over and being ‘known’.
💔 Moving to a new city and neighbourhood in July.
💔 Mom being in the hospital and beginning her journey with cancer.
💔 Starting new activities and schools for the boys in September.
💔 Riding the cancer wave with mom and dad all autumn.
💔 Mom’s final hospital and hospice time in December.
💔 Mom’s death on Boxing Day.
💔 Broken relationships are finally exposed. (My sensitive soul is actually more relieved than grieving this one!)
💔 Living each day without my mom.
💔 Watching my dad, Steve and the boys grieve.
💔 Existing in a world without my mom a phone call away, without her popping by, without her listening ear, without her presence, without her hugs.

20140217-131155.jpgBEFORE

I pray.

I lament.

I grieve.

I choose.

To paint.

20140217-131205.jpgAFTER

Sanctuary.

Sanctified.

Peace.

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I can survive!

I am full of gratitude for my boys!

I sit in the desert.

I wait.

I rely on my blessed friends.

I look for how God will bring me out of this.

I believe.

I rest.

I WAIT AT THE WALL.

If you need me, you know where I will be!

Be Painting the Walls Orange?

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!

Be in the Beginning Stage of Grief

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!

Be Existing, Be Okay Today

I exist in a world I never knew nor imagined.

20140119-150216.jpgI 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.

20140119-150228.jpgI 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!

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