Tag Archives: words

Be Wondering About Words 

Why are people mean and rude?

Short with words and sometimes crude?
Why do we decide to speak this way? 
Without compassion with what we say?  
How does the tongue twist and hurt? 
It can make anyone feel like dirt? 
Why do we withhold our words sometime? 
While other days they are like a chime? 
Words can be cruel. 
Make me look like a fool. 
They can lift someone up.  
Even make me spill my cup.  
Sweet sentences to soothe my ears.  
Little ditties to give me the gears.  
How I love to play with words!
Let’s use them to build up, anything else is absurd.  

Building.  
Building up.  
Built. 
Built up.  
With words. 
Don’t be absurd.  
You turd.  

Be Using Words as Weapons

Heat comes over my body by the words said to me.

The slice me.

Dice me.

Cut me up.

For many weeks now I have chosen to be quieter in my life.

Be still.

Use less words.

But this change makes people uncomfortable.

The one who had the words of many, now has words of few?

The change from many to few words was swift, like a swipe of a sword.

It started three and a half weeks ago…

I shared an idea, just a fun, easygoing idea with someone close, but often my ideas are questioned.

I still try to share.

Call me an optimist or perhaps even crazy.

Sometimes my explanations must be Russian due to the confusion. (I don’t even speak Russian!)

Why can’t ideas be encouraged, valued, and built up?

Why do they need to be questioned until nothing is left and all excitement is gone?

Next, I found out that my grandma died by a forwarded emailed from my mom’s sister, that I haven’t heard from since my mom died. This Aunt I spent EVERY Christmas, Easter and summer vacation with growing up! We lived in the same town.

She said my email didn’t work.

The same one that I have had since email was invented.

And then, I heard from a friend going through a very stressful time. Their body was exhausted, they felt their life was a disaster. They were overwhelmed with overwhelming life.

I told them my latest mistake and I shared a funny story but they said they didn’t need that. They told me just to pray.

Lastly, I tried to help someone out. I did something they asked me to do. I did what they were suppose to do. And all I heard were complaints about their health, their money, their stuff.

They didn’t once use the words, “thank you”.

We are thoughtless in our words that cut like a sword.

In our Western comfy world, our words are weapons.

They belittle instead of build up.

They chastise instead of praise.

They truly cut me up.

Broken.

Torn.

No words can diffuse this pain.

Off for a run!

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Be the Power of One

One word.

One email.

One step.

One blog comment.

One moment.

I am touched in this season by the power of the people around me.

The thoughtfulness of the people around me.

The consistent encouraging comments by Levi on my blog showing me God’s love.

The great communication from friends from afar helping me feel connected.

The cookies dropped off at my door helped feed my brood of boys a special snack.

The incredible emails I have received which move me spiritually and encourage me greatly.

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Below is just one example from my friend, ‘Shell’.

Here are her words:

This morning I awoke to read your blog
Needing to connect amidst the fog

Thanks for sharing your journey of grief
The sea of emotion beyond belief

What have I learned since from you, dear friend?
That your Mama loved you unconditional… right to the end

What a treasure she is and heaven’s now richer
Though I wonder why God doesn’t explain that when we turn to scripture

Please know, dear friend, that I care for deep
And this morning I read your blog and began to weep

Thank you for sharing and remaining transparent
About life, love and being a parent

Have you ever read such beautiful, resonating, encouraging words?

Can you be someone’s power of one today?

Will you see the work of One Great God in your own life?

I am a walking testimony to God’s great goodness and love. I am a testimony to the power of the people whom God surrounds us with when we are most vulnerable and humbled.

Be an Overcomer

There are some things in my life that bring me to a full sweaty mess.

There are many more things that bring me to my knees in a puddle of tears or a need to vomit.

Tonight it was tears.

I went back to Hospice House where my mom died, with dad at her side, on December 26th.

I felt a pull to go back, but also a humbling fear that brought me to tears. I knew that I needed to do this for myself. I knew I needed to overcome my overwhelming feelings of grief and love, despair and compassion that Hospice House brings up for me.

I drove my car north followed by a bright, clear moon and clean roads, as I did many times last fall visiting mom and dad.

I arrived at Hospice House.

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I entered the very familiar building and went to a chair to await the seminar about grief and the holidays. I tried not to look too hard, but it was the same.

Beautiful spaces

Christmas decorations

Warmth

Love

Healing

I sat. I cried. I listened to great strategies on Christmas in the midst of grief.

I wrote a card with my mom’s name on it and placed it on the memory tree.

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I had some juice and cookies and took a wander down the hall to room number eight.

Yup, it’s still there.

Yup, mom still isn’t.

Unless she’s now a man. A bald-headed one.

Nope, no mom here on earth.

A checked out the fish tank down the hall.

I walked back to the living room and put another name on the tree for my Auntie Gail. I remembered her putting her son, Michael, on the memory tree last Christmas. My cousin was killed in a motor vehicle accident many years ago. I put Michael’s tag on the tree and told him how much his mom loves him.

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And then I walked out.

An Overcomer of my emotions.

An Overcomer of fear.

An Overcomer of doing the hard stuff.

Overcome.

Overcame.

Overcomer.

Be Living with Memories

Memories have been sliding down my cheeks more often these days. In the quiet moments, when the boys talk of their beloved Nana and when I witness my dad’s own tears. I still cannot make ‘sense’ of this new existence without mom. It is completely unbelievably real. The living with ONLY memories is bringing me to my knees. This is neither good nor bad, it just is.

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I have the privilege of being on the front line of receiving mom’s things as dad is ready to let them go. First it was food in the cupboard then mom’s cosmetics, then shoes, jackets and now her clothes. I readily take these beautiful things with tears in my eyes. The memories of mom wearing the clothes and seeing things she had purchased to wear this spring that I am living RIGHT NOW is very difficult to comprehend. (Two biking shirts in particular brought tears to my eyes.).

Here is batman (aka CC) pointing to the two boxes of spring clothes I have of mom’s:

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Unfolding.

Folding.

Memories.

Laying down.

Sitting in it.

Sitting with.

Memories.

As mom’s clothes sit at one end of our unfinished basement, I have been sorting through our boxes of memories at the other end on my newly painted white shelf. What does one do with old yearbooks, jerseys, trophies… Are my children going to want these things? Do I want my children to be going through them. Perhaps my work now is to make space for them to create their own memories.

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Unpacking.

Packing.

Memories.

Letting go.

Giving freedom to it.

Providing space for.

New memories.

Be Asking Why You Blog

Why do I blog?

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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.

Be Doing Nothing Special (More Irony)

I ain’t doing nothing special, but God is so present.

I can’t seem to pray or even open my bible or count my thousand gifts.

These rituals used to fill me with joy each morning.

I didn’t do it because someone told me to, I just did it because I could.

Now, I can’t.

I sit in a sacred space.

In grief.

In silence.

Within myself.

God pours himself out.

Through people.

Through nature.

Loudly.

All over and around me.

I watch.

I wait.

I remain open.

To see how he will pick up the broken pieces of my heart and my life.

I receive an email then another.

One says you need to see these lyrics.

Another one says you need to listen to this song.

BOTH SONGS ARE EERILY SIMILAR!

One woman lives in Leduc, the other Oyama.

They don’t even know each other.

How could this be?

God loves.

God lives.

God speaks.

These women listened and acted.

I sure didn’t do anything special.

The irony continues…

Here’s the lyrics and song if you are interested:

The song about oceans…and the lyrics to another song:
In your ocean, I’m ankle deep
I feel the waves crashin’ on my feet
It’s like I know where I need to be
But I can’t figure out, yeah I can’t figure out

Just how much air I will need to breathe
When your tide rushes over me
There’s only one way to figure out
Will ya let me drown, will ya let me drown

Hey now, this is my desire
Consume me like a fire, ’cause I just want something beautiful
To touch me, I know that I’m in reach
‘Cause I am down on my knees, I’m waiting for something beautiful
Oh, something beautiful

And the water is risin’ quick
And for years I was scared of it
We can’t be sure when it will subside
So I won’t leave your side, no I can’t leave your side

Hey now, this is my desire
Consume me like a fire, ’cause I just want something beautiful
To touch me, I know that I’m in reach
‘Cause I am down on my knees, I’m waiting for something beautiful
Oh, something beautiful

In a daydream, I couldn’t live like this
I wouldn’t stop until I found something beautiful
When I wake up, I know I will have
No, I still won’t have what I need

Hey now, this is my desire
Consume me like a fire, ’cause I just want something beautiful
To touch me, I know that I’m in reach
‘Cause I am down on my knees, I’m waiting for something beautiful
Oh, something beautiful