I am a mother

23 years ago today I became a mother. The dear one and I welcomed a lovely baby girl into the world. We couldn’t have been more proud or more excited and little did we know that what kind of ride we would be on as parents. 3 years after that we were parents of three (yep, 3 children in 3 years, a bit wild but worth it in the end) wonderful children.

There is much of those early years that is much a blur but there are some significant moments that stand out.

Me and my beloved ones.

Watching our eldest learn to crawl while visiting family in England and the determination and persistence on her face – a quality she has not lost over the years! Introducing our eldest daughter to her younger sister in the hospital and she immediately claimed that this was her baby. Second daughter thumping around in her pink high tops singing at the top of her lungs ‘We are rough! We are tough!’ – a family song from that era. Youngest and our only son going down the stairs of our home in Gaspe on his stomach feet first before his first birthday with much laughter, excitement and control. All three of them painting themselves with water paints on the big verandah that was in front of that home. Going through the  busy teenage years with school, work, and other activities taking up more and more and more of their time. Being challenged on all fronts about all the things they thought were difficult about being our children.  Through all that joy and struggle I have been proud, happy and amazed to be their mother.

Now they have all left home for university and are beginning new lives of their own. I am still their mother.

I will always be their mother. So this post is to say thank you to my eldest daughter for making me a mother and to my other daughter for making the joy deeper and to my son for loving so freely and well.  My darlings thank you for letting me be a mother. Thank you for forgiving my many, many mistakes. Thank you for the joy, the tears and the amazing laughter. Thank you for the hugs, the cooking and the laundry. Thank you for all the wonderful creative messes we have made together over the years. Thank you for teaching me how to be a better person. Thank you for loving me as much as I love all of you.

Here’s to many, many more years of being a mother.

Bite sized hope

Before I begin I need to give credit where credit is due. The dear one and I were talking recently about hope and he came up with the wonderful phrase ‘bite sized hope’. I have been letting that roll around in my head and heart for the last little while and am finding that  this is resonating with me.

When I try be hopeful all the time I get to looking at the world through rose coloured glasses and thinking everything will be all right. I just have to look at my life for the last three years to know that this is not the case. If, however, I give up on hope I fall into despair and begin to think that nothing will get better. Again when I look at my life for the last three years I know that some parts of my life are better even if it is not what I really want it to be at the moment.

This is why I have become so entranced with the dear one’s phrase – bite sized hope.

Enough hope to keep me going but not so much hope that I forget to do the hard work that is needed to do what God is calling me to do (even if I don’t know what that is at the moment). A piece of bite sized hope is that our house renovations will be done soon. Another piece is that the dear one may have a position with a parish soon. A bite sized piece of hope for me is that I will be able to find a place within the church again. A bite sized piece of hope is that my faith will sustain me during this time.

That is all I can do now is take in bite sized pieces of hope. What is your piece of bite sized piece of hope that keeps you going?

Love is….

Grouse in backyard – a bit of joy.

I know that many have written about love. I know that I probably won’t say anything new here. This morning though I need to say what love is for me.

Love is the dear one making me brunch just because he loves me and not letting me into the kitchen to help him.

Love is the gift of this time together, even though much of it is hard. For this hard time has proven that our love can withstand much, sustain us both and continue to grow and change as we are growing and changing.

Love is intellectual discussions which trigger creative thoughts for both of us. Deep conversation that reminds us both that we are worth more than what many have said about us.

Love is working hard with the dear one to get our house renovations done, working on our garden together, reminding ourselves that we are a good team together.

Love is the bits of joy that I find each day. The grouse wandering in our backyard, one of our cats snuggling up on my lap while I watch a movie with the dear one, flowers continuing to bloom outside even with the cooler days, the smell of bacon coming from the kitchen, a good cup of coffee in the morning, a cup of relaxing tea in the afternoon.

Love is my family, my friends, who are always there when I need them. Love is all that our adult children have become and are becoming.

Love is our church friends praying for me and the dear one. Reminding me that I don’t have to do this faith thing on my own. That the love of God is best when shared in this way.

Love is the gift I have been given. Love is more words than I will ever find to express it.  Today I thank God for love.

Love is what for you today?

There I go again…

There I go again, weeping, feeling sad, having tears run down my face. This time it was triggered by going to church with the dear one and daughter while recently in Thunder Bay. I thought I would be able to get through it all but by the end of the sermon I was weeping, just weeping. I had to leave. I just couldn’t sit there. I am so full of grief and anger about how the church has abandoned the dear one and me.

I am wondering if I will ever be able to make it through a worship service without weeping. Will the grief ever just go away?

I remember weeping like that in church in the fall after my mother died. That was an experience of healing. I had a community around me who cared about me (many of them are still friends) and how I was dealing with that grief. I remember feeling God’s loving presence in the midst of that time. I am not a stranger to grief and how it works. What I am a stranger to is not having a faith community to find support in while going through the grief.

I need someone to listen and not give me platitudes in response. I need the church to hear my story and not give me platitudes in response. I need a sense of hope and possibility. I need to feel God’s presence in the midst of all this crap. I need a day where I don’t feel sad and angry.

I want to be able to  say there I go again….and be smiling.

Empty Nest Blues

This mama has the empty nest blues or  the almost empty nest blues. You know what I mean! I am already missing the two who are headed off to new homes and new adventures in their respective university towns in a few short days.

I am glad they are going. I know they are going to be fine. They have good plans. Good friends for support. Good homes to live in. They are so ready to be on their own. Most days their mama is ready for them to go as well. I and the dear one need the space to find our own way as all couples do at this stage of their lives. Then there are the days when I just want to weep with how much I am going to miss them.

I am in the midst of endings. The end of being a full time parent. The end of being a home with young adults who happen to be my children.

I am hoping for some beginnings. It would be great to have a new community to move to. A new parish for the dear one to love and take care of. A new creative job for me would also be fine.

For the moment I will sit with my blues. Say good bye and do well to my wonderful adult children. I will remember that I have done a good job raising them with the dear one. They are young people that I am proud to say I am their mother.