Saturday, December 15, 2012

A Tale Of Two Mothers - Reflections of Connecticut

Today somewhere in Newmarket
A mother just like me
Is searching for a special box
To place beneath a tree
The box is for her child
Who will wait expectantly
To open it on Christmas Day
Wonderin' what it could be

This season is a special time
For friends and families
We gather with our loved ones
And make new memories
We share our gifts and celebrate
With joy and laughter too
And join our hearts together to pray
For peace, the whole world though
 
And now somewhere in Newtown
A mother just like me
Is searching for a special box
To place beneath a tree
The box is for her child
A casket it will be
To bury her beloved
In the Newtown cemetery

For what should be a special time
For friends and family
Is replaced by pain and sorrow
Through this senseless tradgedy
We cannot comprehend their loss
Or what they're going through
But families all around the world
In part, are suffering too.

 
 
 
 

May the God of all peace and comfort, draw especially close
 to the families of Newtown, Connecticut this Christmas.



Tuesday, October 23, 2012

The Signpost









You were the signpost that showed "The Way"
As I wandered along life's road one day
Like an autumn leaf, that was blown and tossed
Unaware that I was even lost


You spoke God's truth and so much more
In ways I'd never heard before
I saw such love and joy in you
I felt compelled to follow too


And many others came to know
And lives were changed from seeds you sowed
 A quiet beauty you displayed
Just simply living out "The Way"


Then pain and sickness came around
And knocked the faithful signpost down
Still, from the stricken place you lay
With courage, you still showed "The Way"


The signpost has now gone for good
And few can stand where you once stood
But I am grateful for the day
The signpost once showed me  "The Way"





In memory of Cathy.
Sunrise 23/02/60 , Sunset 13/10/12
 Thank you for pointing me in the right direction.
 Eternally grateful.


Friday, October 12, 2012

The War of Words





You became my hero yesterday. Right there in McDonalds. And I would stick a purple heart on your chest if I could because what you did was heroic in my eyes. How courageous you were. How bravely you battled and struggled and fought - until you won. And I was so proud of you.
 I am so proud of you.


I realized yesterday that you fight this battle every day. This war of words. 
This is the life of one who stutters.
It is a struggle. 
Internal and external. 
Every. Single. Day.


You had to place your order and I made the decision not to speak for you any more. And you were nervous and anxious. You stuttered and stumbled and blurted it out.
 She didn't understand what you said.

Both of you looked to me for interpretation and clarification. 
And I looked the other way.


It hurt me to do that. I know it hurt you too. But I know there are bigger battles 
ahead for you, so I had to let you fight this one alone.


And you did.


I wondered...what would it feel like if I was to run every race and never get to the finish line?
To go on a diet and never lose any weight?
To keep writing exams and never pass?


Surely I'd feel defeated. Surely I'd lose hope.
Surely I'd give up.
I think most people would.


 Yet you don't. You get up every day and go out into this world
and fight this battle. This war of words.


Yes, there are victories. But there are also crushing defeats.


 And wounds that may not heal. And scars I'll never see.


So I had my own war of words. With God. And it was ugly.
And I asked him how he expected me to stand by and watch my son suffer.
Every.Single.Day.
And he reminded me that he saw His Son suffer.
In a garden.
And on a cross.


So son, I hope you know this: even though I cannot fight this war for you,
I am always, always on your side.




For Elliot. My son and my hero.
You can read the poem I wrote for him here









Linking with Emily at Imperfect Prose.




Tuesday, September 18, 2012

A Necessary Leaving




One day my precious baby girl
Outgrew the walls that were her world
A flower that began to bloom
The moment that she left my womb
The cord was cut, we were apart
So she could grow inside my heart

But birth is not a time for grieving
It's just a necessary leaving

One day my precious little girl
Outgrew the walls that were her world
The time had come, for her to roam
Inside a place that wasn't home
I let go of her tiny hand
And left her in a foreign land
                                                         
But school is not a time for grieving
It's just a necessary leaving

One day my precious teenage girl
Outgrew the walls that were her world
Her new home, where she now will stay
Is several hundred miles away
Far from my grasp and out of reach
She'll learn the things I cannot teach

For me, this is a time of grieving
For "Tee" - a necessary leaving



For my sister Sharon and my niece Teresa.

Sunday, August 26, 2012

Love Thy (Noisy) Neighbour.






I got some advice from my mother when we bought our first home 5 years ago. "Make every effort to live in peace with your neighbours. In an emergency, they will be there before the police, ambulance, fire department, family or friends."

Sound advice. But I was quite sure I wouldn't need it.

The moment I moved into my house, I immediately liked my neighbour,Tracey. She was a single mother to three older boys. She was everything that I wasn't. Smart, funny, confident, engaging and perhaps the most practical person I have ever met. I admired her. Soon it became clear that we were more than just neighbours. We were friends.

Tracey and I lived happily alongside each other for four years.Then one day she decided to put her house up for sale. I was devastated. Who could possibly replace her? I wrote my feelings about her moving here

My new neighbours were a young Chinese couple in their thirties called Bill and Helen. They were joined by his parents who came straight from China. An elderly couple who spoke no English whatsoever. They seemed like really nice people. I liked them.

But a few months later everything changed.

My neighbours got a dog. A Golden Labrador. They called their dog Sunday. "Sunday". The very name suggests peace, calm and tranquillity. The dog was anything but that. She barked constantly. She barked loudly. I soon became very irritated with the dog. And with my neighbours.

I started to spend  less and less time talking to them. Gone was the cheery "Good Morning."  Gone was any advice about gardening and lawn maintenance. I no longer lingered on the driveway to chat after we finished grocery shopping. I made the excuse that I was carrying cold items that needed to be kept frozen. Which was partly true. I'd become cold hearted toward them. And freezing them out.

Now there wasn't only a privacy fence between us. There was also an invisible wall.

The emergency situation that my mother told me about happened late in the Spring. I was mowing the lawn and had to adjust the height of the blade. By accident, I placed my hand on the engine, badly burning three fingers of my left hand. My husband was gone for the day with the children and I had no car. Even if I did, I wouldn't be able to drive because of the extent of my injuries. I began to panic. I needed help fast. My neighbours!!! But instead of going to Bill and Helen, I bypassed them and went to the next house over. I would like to say it's because I knew Tiziana better (which is true, as our children have played together for years) but we all know that isn't the reason. It was because of the dog. It was because of the wall.

Although I could still hear my neighbours and their dog, I'd built a wall so I didn't have to "see" them.

Early in June I was out one morning watering my garden, when I heard a strange sound. It was a soft and rhythmic sound not loud or annoying in any way. But once I realised it was coming from my next door neighbours, I became irritated by it.

Intrigued as to what was making the noise, I peeked through the slats in the fence, and saw the elderly couple trying to sand the deck by hand with tiny pieces of sandpaper. Their deck is bigger than my deck, and my deck is huge. It was already about 30 degrees in the shade and the forecast promised it would get much hotter. They shouldn't be working like that in this heat. It would take them forever.

I watched them in silence for a few moments, but I knew exactly what I had to do. I ran to my garage and found the electric sander and some medium grain sandpaper. I took it next door and handed it to the old man. I  tried without success to explain to him what it was, but he didn't understand.So, I located the outlet, plugged it in and gave him and his wife a demonstration. I watched their faces change from bewilderment, to confusion, to understanding, to pure unfiltered delight.I will never be able to accurately describe the look on their faces when they realized that I'd handed them a tool that would cut their labour by about 90%. They looked at each other and laughed and laughed saying "Thank you, thank you, thank you." And they bowed. I was completely humbled.

Back in my garden I listened to the all the "noise" coming from my neighbours back yard. I listened to an old couple giggling like school children, having discovered power tools in the sunset of their days. I listened to animated chatter in a language I couldn't understand, but no translation was required. I listened to the electric sander gently humming. And I listened to Sunday barking. But at that moment I was no longer bothered by it. I lifted my garden hose high and to the right, so that it would water their vegetable garden. Then I listened to the sound of the water falling on to the dry earth. These were the sounds of forgiveness.

And there was another sound. A quiet crashing sound. It was the sound of an invisible wall coming down. No one heard it but me.

I would like to say that from that day Sunday became a well trained dog and stopped barking, but that is the stuff of fairy-tales and this is real life. Sunday did continue to bark, but somehow I learned to tolerate it.

I began to see my neighbours for who they were, a sweet, kind, hard working and happy family, who just happened to have a noisy dog. Bill and Helen worked very hard at their jobs and his parents worked hard at home and in their garden. I would see the parents all over my neighbourhood taking the dog for a walk and rummaging around in the recycling bins looking for "treasures."

Last week the old man saw me running. I was running very slowly because I was recovering from surgery. He gestured that he wanted to run with me. So we did. And for around 2km we shuffled along slowly together. We didn't speak, but then again we didn't need to.

Two days ago he gave me the first fruits of their labour from the garden. 5lbs of tomatoes.

But then yesterday a terrible noise came from next door. An awful noise that I never, ever want to hear again. It was a scream, followed by loud hysterical crying. I looked out and saw the police in front of my neighbours house. They had come to deliver the news, that they had just pulled the old man's lifeless body from Bond Lake. He had taken Sunday for a swim and then had a stroke while in the water. He died at 8pm last night.

The crying went on all night.

And so perhaps now I can be to this family in death, what I had failed so miserably to do in life...

...be a good neighbour.




"Love your neighbour as you love yourself." Romans 13: 8-10






Sunday, May 13, 2012

When I Became A Mother





When I became a mother
Something was birthed in me
The power to love another one
So unconditionally

When I became a mother
My heart just grew and grew
It multiplied and magnified
And flowed with love for you.

When I became a mother
Part of my heart left me
And went to live within the child
Who once lived within me

When I became a mother
I never thought I'd see
Growing before my very eyes
Ones, I wish I could be

And now that I'm a mother
It melts me through and through
To hear my sons, say these few words
"I want to be like you"

And now that I'm a mother
My prayer will always be
Son be a better, greater, wiser,
Reflection of me.


Dear Elliot and Ethan...thank you.





Monday, March 19, 2012

Happy 11th Birthday Ethan



















ETHAN....




Eleven years ago today, God
Thought I needed to be reminded of 
His incredible love for me
And gave me the gift of you. I can
Never thank Him enough.