Gift

Today we're writing with Lisa-Jo over the The Gypsy Mama for Five Minute Friday

Gift

How do I look at my daughter's newly diagnosed brain tumour as a gift?  How do I hear the word cancer and attach that to a 5 year old precious girl?  How is that a gift?

Quite simply, I'm coming to understand that these gifts to us don't always come in a pretty box tied in ribbons, or in the shape or form we ask for.  But maybe it is all an answer to prayers as our whole experience is wrapped in faith, hope and love.

It is a gift that the whole tumour was removed when the surgeon thought he would only be able to get two thirds of it.  It is a gift how we have been cared for through this whole experience by the staff at the hospital.  It is a gift the way my friends and community rallied behind us instantly when my blood family were on distant shores.  My daughter is recovering from brain surgery without any of the horrific side effects that the surgeon had said may come - she is walking, she is breathing without difficulties, swallowing without difficulties and she is not mute after this surgery.  I wondered if I would hear my little girl speak again and whether there would be any structure to her sentences, and she sings and plays and speaks every day.  Every day with her in our family is a gift, an extra day, a blessing that we didn't think we would have.

The journey now takes us out of our country to travel to Boston, Massachusetts as she needs specialist proton therapy that doesn't exist in Canada.  We  don't have the financial ability to do this.  Yet it is a gift that proton therapy exists and that we minimize the risk of paralysis to her beautiful body by administering radiation this way.  There are blessings beyond anything we could imagine.

This community we live in, our friends, family, church, school, workplaces and even those we don't know are a gift to us as with superhuman efforts they have pulled together to help with our fundraising to get us there for the 2 months we'll be there, and help pay for medical costs there.  The speed at which everything fell in to place is a gift - even the hospital staff are marvelling at how quickly its all happening.  It is a gift that the miracle is unfolding for us - and I will trust in that voice and keep right on believing and choosing faith with gratitude for the gifts.

Brave

Writing for 5 minutes unedited this week over at www.thegypsymama.com with Lisa-Jo.

This weeks word is Brave


I want to run.  I want to run and hide and not be where I am.  I am not brave.  I am not strong, and I am not courageous.  One week ago my darling daughter was lying in pain recovering from emergency surgery to remove a brain tumour that threatened her young, fragile and precious life.  "be brave" and "stay strong" and "you're doing really well" people said.  I am not brave and didn't know how to stay strong and I'm sure I wasn't doing really well.
My daughter is brave.  She is strong.  She has courage.  And she IS doing really well!
And we are home from our ordeal recovering from this surgery by grace alone. 
To be brave is to trust.  It is to recognise that forces work beyond our power.  It is to know that life is a gift and that it is fragile and can end at any moment.  To be brave is to be ready to release my child and to know that really she belongs to God and I was merely blessed to have her for however long that may be.  To be brave is to feel strength in my weakness, to somehow trust that the voice that whispers will care for my life, for her life, and to keep on turning to that.
My brave came waiting to feel peace when wretched and empty was all there was.  But it comes.  He whispers to trust in him, rest in him, that she is precious to him, that I am precious to him, that we are his, that he loves us.  Trust him, trust him, trust him and watch the miracle unfold.

Empty

Joining Lisa-Jo for 5 minute Friday this week.  I'm sharing this from Children's Hospital in Vancouver BC.  

Empty

Empty was my heart on Sunday at midnight.  I was sitting in Children's Emergency Room with a daughter who went from skipping in to a friend's birthday on Sunday morning to being critically ill by midnight.  Empty was my heart that bled for the precious daughter diagnosed with a brain tumour.  Empty was my body of water as I cried a river.  How can this be?  How can a good God let this be?  Yet empty couldn't come soon enough for the brain surgery she needed.  I wanted an empty space where that tumour had taken place, alien to her body and need.

Empty soul and broken heart can be turned to something good.  Empty became full as my mind filled with voices with words of comfort.    And strength did rise and when I couldn't do it, my amazing family, friends, community rose up for me.  I knew that God had my 5 year old girl and finally as she rested in ICU after 36 hours of gruelling empty,  He turns it to good and tells me to trust Him, rest in Him, that I am precious, that she is precious and watch the miracle unfold.  I am full - her tumour excised completely - head empty in the best way.

We still don't know if the tumour is benign or malignant but I am full and have peace this evening and I humbly ask that you pray for my precious Jasmine Isabelle this day. x

Sister

Linking up with The Gypsy Mama today for Five Minute Friday.  Please extend me some grace - this was a little longer than 5 minutes when I wrote it,  but it speaks an ache and longing I was feeling earlier this week - thank you.

This post written by Lisa-Jo prompted me to spend some time thinking of those distant shores today.  This is where it took me ~

I have a photo on my mantelpiece of my sister and I when we were young.  I am 3 years old and my sister is 5. 

She sits on my mantle, and she also sits on my desk in a digital photo frame that scrolls precious memories of 2 summers ago when I had her company for 3 glorious weeks.

My sister lives on distant shores now.  Not of her making – it was me who followed my husband and a dream to emigrate and leave the land I call home.  Did I really know how that would be 3 years in – 5 years in?  What will that feel like in 10 years, 15 or 20? 

We said, “I don’t know….. I don’t know if I want to spend the rest of my life living this far away from you.”   I ponder this often and my heart echoes that sentiment, sometimes louder than her voice speaking that truth with me.

I didn’t know for so long what I had in a sister close by.  I took for granted that my sister would always be there.  I knew the way to her house and could drive from wherever I was like a homing pigeon when I needed to be in her physical presence. Now the closeness covers the vastness.  It travels the Atlantic and connects with her on distant shores by Skype, phone, email, and paper.  And I’m grateful for it.

But I miss the skin on skin of a hand held in solidarity, of face-to-face talking, of a hug that encompasses a multitude of memories and history.

A sister is a forever friend.   She is a confidante, a trusted source of wisdom, comfort and resource.  She shares history from childhood that bonds two people together.  She knows what it was to play together.  She laughs at our childhood silliness, our own made up songs. She was protector, tormentor, friend and foe. She knows me inside out.  She knows the best about me, and the worst.  She shares secrets, hard fought and won from parents.  She is my helper.  She knows what to do or say in times of trouble, and even if she doesn’t know, her companionship is enough.

She is amazing and I cherish her completely.  I took for granted how special having a sister is when I had her right there, and now I poignantly know it. I wish she was not so far away.  

Delight

On Fridays we write for 5 minutes with the gypsy mama.  Come over and join us!  Todays word is -

DELIGHT

Delight!  When I hear this word, or say this word I smile.  Is it a word that is used overly much?  I hear it in greeting sometimes "I'm delighted to meet you."  But true delight can't be put in a box that way, and made small.  It is big, bigger, HUGE!  To me, it is an outpouring and overspilling of absolute joy.  What delights me?  When I really think about this the list is huge.  It's my children with their giggles, their individuality, their personality, their talents, their cross faces, their struggles, their delights.  They make my heart sing.  My friendships that build, and can be loving enough to be honest.  It's hot tea on a rainy day, no actually on any day!  It's playing at a children's play park trying to swing higher and higher than my son.  Seeing raindrops on petals, eating chocolate, letters from home and dancing - yes dancing my heart out!  There used to be a dessert in England called Angel Delight.  I wonder what the Angels delight in?  They sing praises all day long..  Their joy and delight is immense!  What delights you?

Forgiven

It's a gorgeous sunny day so as the children tumble out of school we stay at the park to play.  There is laughter and energy and running and all is well with the world.  Then it happens - I see my son walking away with his head down.  It is not a slow stride, it is one that he has when he is angry, but there is sadness coupled with it too.  I call his name and he throws me a look over his shoulder - his face is set.  I just need some time alone, he says, and walks purposefully to the trees, where dens and forts and places to hide are abundant.  There is another voice from behind me shouting across to him "OK - I'm sorry!"
I look back to the play area.  My son's friend has joined my younger daughter and her friend and they cross the monkey bars with glee and squeals.  The friend looks every so often for my son and I breathe wondering whether to get involved or let them sort it out.
A few minutes pass, then the friend gets down and goes looking for my son.  I watch as they speak to one another in the distance - the friend looks earnest and I know he apologises, then my son raises his hand in a stop gesture and turns his back and walks away.  My heart sinks.
The friend returns to the park.
I let a few more minutes pass then I call my son to me and gently ask what's going on?  He doesn't want to talk about it.  I try again, and again he says he doesn't want to talk about it.  I take a breath then say, I saw your friend coming to say sorry, to try and make it right.  Can you not accept his apology and make friends?
Then come the words with the tears, flying like bullets, an angry torrent.  He is mad because "everyone" tells him he's wrong even when he knows he is right!  I take a sharp breath in at this brokeness before me.  I understand the hurt of being undermined and having the wind knocked out of you by others who repeatedly disagree with what you say, or challenge you by expressing that they believe the opposite to be true.  I keep calm and say I understand.  I acknowledge his pain, and then I gently remind him that perhaps he expressed all of his anger that has built during the day and directed it towards one friend.  I point out that this friend has tried to make it right, has humbled himself and apologized and asked forgiveness.  Can he find it in his heart to forgive?  The tears still come spilling and the anguished voice says "but its hard!  It's hard to forgive when it still hurts!"  It rattles me to the core.  Isn't this the truth for us all - for me now?  Simply the injustice of it all.  And how do we keep forgiving and giving grace when it just isn't fair. 


Looking at the broken heart of my son before me causes me to stop, and the brokenness of all this world hurts me.  We start this lesson young.  How do I explain this when I wrestle with this myself?
Isn't this the lesson we need to learn and live over and over again.  In this broken world we forgive because we are forgiven.  How can I accept grace if I can't give grace?  What does living a grace filled life look and feel like?  We forgive, because there is a liberating joy in it,  that the mess of it all can be turned to something good.  It's simple - I need to be forgiven and receive grace therefore I give grace and forgive.

Keeping it Real

We're writing for just 5 minutes this morning over with Lisa-Jo at www.thegypsymama.com.
Why not join us this morning

Keeping it Real

This is it - this is real life.  This day by day routine we have.  I get up half an hour before my children every day for a few precious moments of calm and peace before the chaos ensues!  But it's not chaos - its vitality, energy, youth and life.  .  The quiet is real and a bit of hope and faith can give me all I need for the day ahead.  It isn't long before the troubles come flying, with a broken toy, a cross word, a fight over a toy, lost homework and the expulsion of energy it takes from me to smooth the waters, calm the storm can take its toll.  These "difficult" moments can very quickly turn in to my perceived reality of a tired and tricky existence if I don't pause long enough to give thanks for it all.  Keeping it real means a life of grace.  Being able to both receive it and give grace away - over and over again.  Real is to be present in each moment as it unfolds, let the drama and the joy play out and just give thanks for it all in real time.

Tender

Writing with Lisa-Jo for Five Minute Friday this morning over at The Gypsy Mama.  Won't you join?

Tender

Sometimes she holds me in the biggest bear hug imaginable and she reminds me so often of animal from the Muppets with hair flying wildly and is all arms and legs.  Not a baby in arms but she is 5, this girl child of mine.  But other times, she will pause long enough to be still and her breath is sweet and gentle on my face, and one arm curls round my neck in the most tender of embraces.  She cradles her other arm tightly round bunny and lodges her thumb firmly in her mouth, and her arm brushes softly against my hair.  She loves tenderly as well.  What stops a busy mum long enough to know this tender love?  Just be still is whispered.  Be still.  Over and over again that tender refrain to pause long enough.  

Time to hang with friends

I got to hang out with my friend today, and as we chatted I was really grateful for friends and really good friends in particular. They make the best counsellor, cheerleader and honest sounding board that a girl could wish for.  I enjoy that Jasmine got to play with my friend's daughter whilst we chatted over coffee.  I wonder if they will continue to be friends over the coming years, and I realize that these childhood friendships are as precious as my own now.  I need to nurture the friendships that are beginning in my children's young lives.  And I hope and pray that these new friendships become old friendships.  I love that when I hang out with these girls, that there doesn't have to be anything fake or showy.   I am uniquely made, and I can bring that to my friendships, and enjoy each and every person that comes in to my life for their unique qualities too. 

New Year's Day

The children and I headed off for a walk this morning with Monty Dog.  He was disobedient as ever but I suppose he must have a joyful heart to skip so merrily in the sand.  And there's something reassuring about a belly giggle from the small girl as she decides to build a sandcastle with her brother on this mid winter day.  I didn't join in, I was too mesmerized by the bleak grey and winter scene unfolding before my eyes, and if the truth by told, a little numbed by the cold.  There are eagles here.  They sit silent and watchful, but their unique call always gives them away, and sometimes I am lucky to have one swoop by, almost in slow motion, but passing so close that I can look in to his shiny black eye, as he looks in to me.

My thoughts are a long way away, maybe on the distant shores of home, not on the nearby shores of this riverbank.  

I long for fresh starts at the start of the fresh year.  Can a heart really be transformed, and can a fresh start really be given daily?  I wonder about these things, and I wonder what the year ahead will bring.  

In the unrest, upheaval and unknown of today, the snow starts to fall and gleeful feet jog homeward.  

Grateful

I'm writing along with 5 minute Friday and the Gypsy Mama this morning.  Visit www.thegypsymama.com or click the link to join the fun.
Here go my 5 minutes on "Grateful"

I'm grateful for:-

fresh starts
crunching gravel underfoot
laughter
lazy afternoons filled with a dad teaching son how to fish
hugs for a teary friend
community, when blood family is on distant shores
grief that is raw and lament for a different looking motherhood
tears unseen
sea, earth and sky on outings with my children
firsts - day of kindergarten
text messages  received at moments in need
honest moments
kisses goodbye
8 year old son saying "you have a point there, mum"
hairdressing "therapy"
reminder of own suffering being miniscule in comparison to many
a million sparkles on the water
hugs from friends
red wine
wisdom and smiles of friends
rainbows
orange and copper leaves
don't look back!
weekend approaching

and more....

and more...

and more.....

Far From Home

It's raining out this morning and I'm gazing out in to the rain and my as my eyes travel, my heart and my mind also travel.  The distant shores of home seem very distant today.  I long to sit at the kitchen tables of home.  The hours of shared conversation and an outpouring of love, over the outpouring of tea.  There is something so comforting about that wan knowing smile of a friend when a problem shared, really does become a problem halved.  And a chocolate biscuit is all the sweeter when hand delivered by that friend with a chuckle... who needs diets?!  The chocolate biscuit reigns supreme at tea and talk time!  So I look through the rain as the steam from the cup cradled in my hands curls around me and I hope those friends are enjoying the hug of a comfy chair and hot tea too.  These friends offer me grace, relief and respite, becoming my shelter from the storms of life.  Today - I wish I was not so far from home.

Remember

We're linking up with www.thegypsymama.com this morning for 5 minute Friday.  We get to write for 5 mins without worry, care or editing!  Click the 5 minute Friday button and join!

I remember lots of things about my childhood.  I remember a sister I clung to on the first day of school, but with whom I would fight ferociously at the drop of a hat.  I remember being in neighbours houses, playing on the carpet that smelled of "carpet fresh" newly vacuumed for the guests that would be due for coffee that day.  The smoke would curl in the air, as passive smoking had never been mentioned then, and these women, our mothers would coffee date their way through life.  Do we change that much?  Maybe the smoking part!  I remember my Great Grandmother showing me a love that was unrivalled.  Such fun to be had at her home!  Shouting down the hollow banister to each other that went round the corner which made it all the more exciting!  The hours she spent teaching me to read, to write when I was just 3 years old, the hugs, the stories, the games, the chocolate wafer biscuits and the fizzy blackcurrant.... oh the love!  I remember my Grandpa walking miles with me, along with all 5 cousins every Saturday without fail, come rain, shine or hail.  I remember the love, the unfailing, unending love that bound us together.  Not perfect love, but love was the glue of our family.