while she sleeps

It's after midnight as I slip into bed and find this little imp snuggled up cozy on Daddy's side. "When did she slip in here? " I wonder. And I stop, as all mothers before me do when the day has been full and fast and there's been little room for a pregnant pause.  The tears slip down my tired, freshly scoured cheeks as I watch her so peaceful, stuffed lamb on her chest, Mom's quilt wrapped tight around her, Daddy's pillow bunched beneath her head of unruly curls.

I wonder what it is about this space that makes it so easy to fall asleep?  She has a room tailored to her own likes and dislikes, her favorite colour, pink, horses, loads of horses, stuffed animals, pretty dresses and dolls, her own collected treasures lining EVERYTHING, her older adored sister close by her side;  but instead I find her here.

The world outside the walls of this house is crazy it seems. Shootings even just today, too close to home, racial divides, presidential debates loom in the very near future making everyone feel uneasy, financial trials, families pulled apart, undervalued, under-celebrated, bombings and destruction, people fleeing for their lives, hungry, homeless, insecurity, loneliness, uncertain is all that is certain.  Except maybe, the scent of your Daddy, the warmth of your mama, their presence makes real rest a possibility.

And isn't it the same with our father God? More so even. When we've found those moments of breathless closeness, experienced the scent of HIS presence, the embrace of HIS unmeasurable love, isn't it only then, that we can put aside the worries, fears and hurts of this confusing life that leave us feeling so uncertain and rest, and heal, and feel peace?

Mark 6: 31 "Jesus said to them, Come away with me.  Let us go alone to a quiet place and rest."

like a superhero, she fell

Unlike this dark and rainy day, the sun shone with promise, and a fresh crisp bite was found in the air as she climbed the ladder that would set her on a path she didn't anticipate, one not welcomed nor anticipated, one that would change everything.

A bit of attitude and a whole lot of "let's just get this done" may have been coursing through her blood that September morning; pressure washer in one hand, ladder rung in the other- reaching five feet over the earth. A split second, an uncertain movement and a 'knowing' coursed through her being.

Arms stretched before her, like a superhero,  but face first in the dirt, spiders and ants crawling all over her brokenness she worked to keep the 'knowing'  at bay and consciousness at hand while moaning and kicking the dirt beneath her,  "no, no no."

Her husband ran to her, trying to get her upright again- an impossibility as the bones rolled and shifted inside, loosely encased only by the flesh of her arm- this moment changed everything. The neighbor trying to keep her conscious, the ambulance that just wouldn't come, the EMT's lifting her despite the inner wreckage, the reality of this new inconvenience beginning to settle in.

One massive bone, the humerus and 7+ fractures later- such unfathomable pain, such unfathomable fear, and vulnerability- all unwelcome, all immediately life altering.

Dependency changes everything for some of us.  In the daily life; the folding laundry, washing dishes, making supper, sweeping the floor, taking a shower, sleeping in your bed. Physical dependency makes you vulnerable. Solitude makes you vulnerable, and vulnerability is tricky to negotiate when self sufficiency has been mounted on a pedestal and properly lighted for far too long.

What is it about dependency that rips at the soul of who we are or who we long to be?  Why is it that even when we try so hard to at least be vulnerable with our spouse, there is nothing like the vulnerability of being unable to do "your part", that reduces you to a weeping mess of emotional dependency night after night after night.

And take away "Mama", have her writhing in pain and fear of more pain, have her not really present on pain killers, have her unable to rock her baby to sleep, or stay awake to hear of the first days of school, and the vulnerability of labels being ripped untimely from the descriptor you call yourself leaves you smarting.

And friendships, how often do we dare to be vulnerable with our needs, how impossible is it to let our friends into our real mess and sit with us for awhile, fold our laundry for awhile, wash our dishes, see it as it really is, see me as I really am?

So where does all this leave this superhero one year later? Fallen. Broken. Changed. Unsatisfied to go back to the certainty of self sufficiency, unsure of the courage it takes for vulnerability and even dependency with a few,  but desperate to be marked by the experience. As my humerus recreates itself,

 I pray so does my soul.

Our Story

12 years ago tonight I was quietly sneaking in the side door of my apartment trying not to disturb anyone after my first date with Chad. I couldn't have imagined my landlady was awaiting my return (had I even told her I was going out with him?) but she tiptoed to the door and asked me to come sit upstairs and tell her all the details, interjecting a few of her own "Bobby, Billy and Becki Billington" thoughts.

Earlier that afternoon my cell phone rang in the computer lab at Marshall DÁvery Hall and a handsome young voice came over the receiver.  "Hey Heidi, it's Chad. I was wondering, you know if you're not folding laundry tonight or something, if you'd like to maybe go get something to eat?" My heart was nearly jumping out of my chest as I very calmly said that sounded fine.

Later we jumped in his little Nisan Santra that would hold many more adventures for us, and hit the road for St. John.  Chad had heard about a Thai restaurant there that was pretty good and we wanted to have a chance to get to know each other a bit without eyes watching everywhere.

The bay window was waiting for us with a candle twinkling in it, the night fog left a mystical curtain hanging over the view, classical music played and we were certain the evening was directly penned for us.  We were just kids, pinching ourselves to believe the evening wasn't merely conjured up in our minds.

You know, 12 years later I wouldn't say that marriage is always easy.  That first year of marriage had some definite rough spots, and bringing babies into a relationship always adds a good deal of confusion to the pot for awhile, financial stress, major unexpected and traumatic life events; these moments aren't easy but I wouldn't change it.  I don't claim to be an expert in relationships or marriage for that matter, but it can be so good.

To be as transparent as you can be, and sought to be understood.
To witness your every day, the "unmake-uped days" and loved regardless, maybe even more because of them.
To share secrets; both joys and heartaches, fears and laughter, the loudness and the quiet.
To have someone fight to believe the best in you, again and again and again.
To reach across the room with a look and be brought back in; seen.
To sink into an enveloping embrace and be swallowed with assurance.
To have your life witnessed, remembered and even aspired toward...
This day after day,
story after story,
forgiveness after forgiveness,
love after love is powerful.
It's worth the risk.

We discovered down the road of life that both of us were a little star struck that night.  But we do need those nights along the way to guide us back don't we? The conversation was endless and strangely open for a first date; I think our souls connected pretty quickly.  And tonight, 12 year later, we did do laundry; loads and loads of folding up the past week, evidence of the fullness of our family; but we did it together and I'm so thankful.

when she buys you a fountain pen

It's been an emotional week to say the least.

Tuesday I dropped Zoë and Eliya off for their first days of school this year (Gr 2 & 4FI) and although I will admit to being a wee bit nervous I didn't expect to have a mini internal meltdown after dropping off my oldest. Contrast  Eliya who had whispered adamantly to us numerous times onto the school grounds "I'm ok, you can go. I'm ok you can go!" with Zoë, for the 3rd year running moved out of the class with her closest friends into a class to fend for herself.  All of the confidence and assurance of the night before sucked from her face and was replaced by a brave resolve. 

Now I can imagine several reasons as to why this must have come about but UNFAIR was all that was coming to this mother's mind.  This kid, is amazing, rally's around all the time, feels unseen so often, cares for her younger siblings, stays late and long, shares her parents with a multitude of others and has the kindest heart, always watching for others and here she was, maybe even because of some of these things, expected to do it all again, because she can.  When I bent down to give her a hug before I left her to fend for herself I whispered "If you want me to try to fix this hun, I'll try." To which she replied "Give me the day to see Mom." and put on the most courageous face- which of course weighed a 1000 pounds on my chest all day.

Wednesday rang up early getting Nathaniel off to Kindergarten.  Now if I'm honest K Orientation was a bit of a nightmare experience for the two of us.  Although we have worked long and hard all summer "getting excited for school" I don't think I even realized how much stress I was feeling wondering if I was going to have to peel my little man off my leg and lock him in the school wailing for me or hang out with him in the playground tire all day (again).  On the drive in he said to me "Mama, I was thinking, what if Zoë & Eliya go to school and Violet & me stay home and take care of  you?"  He kills me.  But he decided instead he'd get his new teacher a coffee and when she came out of the building he marched it right up to her and stood in line entering the school like a champ. Minutes later 'pan in' and find me sitting in the van tears rolling down my cheeks. So much emotion. so much parenting insecurity. Violet squeals from her carseat in the back "Mama! Let's go shopping!"  The moment wasn't lost on her.

Let's add in a touch of "man cold" in the household, and by this I mean each one of us is suffering pathetically, and Friday came none too soon.  Zoë had asked me for a Mommy/Daughter date and we knew she had a gift card for an amazing craft store in town so we headed off there for at least an hour of perusing.  While they were totaling up Zoë's purchases I had been chatting with the clerk about the "fountain pen that just ruins you" displayed on the front counter to which she had replied "tell your husband!...maybe for Christmas, maybe your birthday".  Zoë returned a few items and the clerk began ringing the rest in. 

Zoë slipped a pen on to the counter.  

"For you." she looks at me with those gorgeous blue eyes that see the world and the souls in it.  

"Oh no sweetheart, you don't need to spend your money on me!" 

"For you."she repeats emphatically.

"What is it?" I ask wondering what she's found.

"A fountain pen."

The clerk interjects, "that's not the one she...."

And I interrupt her, she's missing it, my daughter is buying me a fountain pen.  It is a disposable one, not the glorious one displayed on the counter for everyone to ogle but one she has put her little treasures back for so that I can have it-- and my heart is going to burst. I choke back more emotion then can be healthy to keep at bay and say thank you as she skips out of the store, her warm little hand in mine.

What do you do when she buys you a fountain pen?  When as woman, a wife and especially a mother you often feel unseen, you struggle to maintain and discover your identity and then your 8 year old daughter catches a glimpse of you- you the person. You the lover of paper, journals, words and fountain pens.  I suppose you stop and breathe the moment in deeply, let it permanently tattoo itself on your bursting heart and relish that she even wants to spend time with you, let alone might even love you for who you are.

let them see you

You should see her tonight, her blue eyes bright with possibilities. Her smile stretching from pink cheek to pink cheek as she dances on tiptoe around her bedroom floor.  "Maybe I'll make a new friend this year, maybe I'll learn to like Math.  I think I should join choir. Do you love my new shirt?" She's so beautiful.

We've worked hard for this. A summer of late nights and late mornings, summer camp and s'mores, ice cream and scouring beaches, back yard dinner theater and bedtime shows, crafts and more crafts, she cooks breakfast, her first sleepover.

You see a year of school can be a difficult thing on a 3rd grade girl. It takes it's toll on her spirit as she finds her way in the world and toward the end of the year there are times I struggle to find her, her spirit, her soul; weighted down by unmet expectations, broken friendships, a changing body, uncertainty, awkwardness, a hesitant smile. But you should see her tonight.

So you'll understand my heart as I hand her over into a new world of Grade 4, one she must learn to navigate of course, one she must struggle in to find her own way, one that will certainly hurt her, make her question her worth, but one that offers her joy, laughter and friendship too. Choose wisely and try try again, risk your heart for love and friendship sweet girl, and let them see YOU, gorgeous you, because you're so beautiful!