Letter to a stressed out Mom at Christmas

I see you there. Looking gorgeous. Dressed just right. Making small talk at the party.
I see the list floating list over your head too. Wrap  presents, bake cookies, pick up gifts for teachers, wine for neighbours and Doctors. Get nails done. Dress kids up - have photos taken, send cards.
Get tree. Decorate tree. Try not to be an obsessive cow about how and where
ornaments are placed upon it. Uphold at least three to five annual Christmas traditions,
whatever they may be .....annual girls Christmas party ? Make gingerbread house ?
Bake and decorate five different kinds of cookies ? Take kids to see Santa ?
Go to Santa Claus parade ?
Fit in dance recital school concert and attend at least five different festive functions which fall on three nights, all overlapping - find a way to figure it out - just get there - to all of them.
Decline, none of them . Just check it off of the list.
I see you dreading the road trip home to the in laws, I see you imagining you didn't have to attend that work party. I know you would rather be at home in yoga pants watching Netflix.
I see you do all of this in the name of the season and  I also see you completely unable to step aside from the madness, the expectations and the lists, to take some much needed time for yourself.
I know you think it's not OK to do this. Once upon a time, I did too.
I know you think you have to keep enduring all the chaos simply because you can.
I also know that just because you can, doesn't mean you should.
I see all of this because once upon a time - I was just like you.
Then I got divorced.

I learned the hard way and am learning still that traditions can be both our comfort and anchor but the expectations that go with them, when unmet or perhaps unmatched with equal passion, can be down right painful. They can bond us in joyful memories for years to come, or hurt us in quiet resentment and dread as we smile and force our way through it.

I am not really sure what the middle ground is since I only know and observe the pendulum as it swings between one extreme and the next...but I cannot turn away from the disconnect...from the people who are truly struggling and trying so hard to uphold the impossible, and from those who have no choice but to humbly embrace their quiet lives.

I understand in the most bittersweet way, what a stressed out mother would not give for the silence I have learned to sit with, if only for a day.
I also understand what a lonely single mother counting the sleeps until her children return to her, wouldn't give for a cut of your chaos, just to have her children close and her world a little less divided. Even if she chose this.

The truth is, none of us ever fully understands another individual until we have walked in their shoes and allowed ourselves to entertain the idea that not everything is as it seems.
Consider the fact that we all struggle and search and at times feel like frauds, one way or another,  as we try to muddle our way through this game of being grown ups.
Consider that the only measure of true happiness, of the lasting kind, comes from a peace within. Know that the only judge of what that is, is you. The real you. The one the world doesn't get to see enough of. The one you try so hard to hide from the world around you, lest you fail to measure up.

Dear stressed out Mom at Christmas time, wake up, look in the mirror, love yourself enough to take care of your own needs, your own soul, your own inner voice. Know that in doing so, your children and spouse and anyone else who loves you, will get the absolute best of you, and you in turn can bask in the glow of being the most authentic version of yourself. 

Love is Christmas

Last Christmas Eve, was my first without my daughters.

I planned for it. I ran errands until late afternoon. I saved all of the wrapping for that evening. I made arrangements to meet my friend at Church for the late service in our hometown.

It was a good plan and I enjoyed the peacefulness and purpose of the night before me.

Then the song came on, "Love is Christmas" by Sarah Bareilles

Something about it spoke to a quiet place in my heart.

I don't care if the carpet's stained  //there's food upon the table//I don't care if it's gonna rain our little room is warm and stable

I am grateful for the memories of Christmas past. 

For myself and my daughters. For our families.

Thankful we sat at the table with four generations. 

Thankful I learned what it is to anticipate drama or conflict over silly things due to the dynamic in families forced together by marriage. 

Thankful to have known the preparations, expectations and challenges that go along with all of this. 

why so scared that you'll mess it up when perfection keeps you haunted, 

all we need is your best my love that's all anyone ever wanted. 

Thankful too; that as our family grew smaller and then divided, we remained thankful and continued to see the blessings as opposed to mourning the family gatherings that were no more.

We still take comfort in our traditions, lights and decorations. Baking together, Christmas crafts and choosing gifts for those we love, just on a much smaller scale. 

I hope that my girls know as I do, that although these things are a part of how we celebrate Christmas, the absence of any of them in no way takes away from the joy that is in Christmas.

The joy that is present simply by embracing one another and being thankful just for that. 

Love is not a toy and no paper will conceal it//love is simply joy that I'm home.

Its not that I didn't feel a darkness briefly - the one that suggests somehow that Christmas could not be celebrated in the absence of the familiar chaos of extended family and multiple dinners, chairs at the table and endless commitments. 

I can still remember the pain in my heart that first Christmas Day, two years ago.

The tears, and loneliness that overcame me as I dropped my children off at their Daddy's.

Arriving home to an empty house and a full glass of wine. 

I steamed the carpets with otherworldly determination, 

I don't care if the carpet's stained  //there's food upon the table 

I paused and aimed the ipad at the ceiling to hide the tears on my face as my girls excitedly reported over facetime, the gifts that Santa had left at Daddy's house too.

Love is not a toy and no paper will conceal it

Finally I worked the courage up to go to my parents house for our humble dinner of three.

My father is unwell. My brother is estranged from them. There was a heaviness in the air but it felt ok. We were, afterall, together. 

I was relieved that it went well and felt a little ashamed of myself that I had secretly wished to stay home with another glass of wine and more carpets to clean.

why so scared that you'll mess it up when perfection keeps you haunted

I reminded myself that my children were safe and loved and healthy with their Dad.

This was new, and unfamiliar but still I felt our blessings that day were many and were found in being with one another, although in a newly fragmented way.

As I left my parents home that Christmas night, the home where I grew up, I remember my Mother moving briefly into a place, where the darkness of regret and loss can cause you to speak in a way that doesn't serve the moment for the better. 

Anger about estranged relationships, bewilderment and lack of acceptance that I could be there with her, without her grandchildren. On Christmas.

"I don't know what kind of Mother can go home and sleep on Christmas night when her babies aren't with her"...she said, or something like that. 

I think I may have left my own body for a moment as I hugged and kissed and thanked her and chose not to allow my own sadness and hurt to make the moment worse.

why so scared that you'll mess it up when perfection keeps you haunted,

I did taste the darkness that day and I would be lying if I said I hadn't since.

I am pleased to report that although I tasted it, I did not feed upon it.

I observed it and I allowed it to pass. 

all we need is your best my love that's all anyone ever wanted. 

In that moment, I did my best. 

love is simply joy that I am home

The following year, last year, I was able to face the holiday at peace within myself. 

Thankful for the choice I had. For the choice I made. For the blessings that are many. For every quiet moment with friends, my daughters and alone. 

love is who we are and no season can contain it/love would never fall for that/

let love lead us/love is Christmas.

The first time

I will never forget the first time we put her in the saddle for a lesson.

She sat up straight. Her expression was so attentive and serious, Like in so many riding photos I have taken since.

She held the reins and pushed her little boots into the stirrups. Slowly the pony led her around the arena.

Next, her coach asked her to change directions. She took the reins and did as she was instructed, elbows moving,  hands tightening, head turning....slowly the pony responded.

NO WORDS.

Leg. Reins. Intention. Eyes in the direction she wished to go.

The light went on.

I will never forget the moment.

What I observed in her was a sense of recognition and relief. She sat up straighter. She had control over something in her life.....and not by force or by rage or entitlement.

She had control because she was in control of herself. She knew her intention. She knew the direction she wished to go. She trusted herself. The rest (including the pony) fell into place.

I am sure she will not remember what that first time felt like. The time when her intentions and confidence allowed her to effect direct change and control over her circumstances in one moment in time.

But I will. And I see it each time she confidently handles a majestic and strong willed horse ten times her size.

It is my hope that as she moves through life, this lesson is locked somewhere deep inside of her.Disguised perhaps, as an inner sense of knowing. It will serve her well. It will not forsake her.

Intention. Confidence. Direction and patience.
The rest will fall into place.

The hardest part

The other day, sitting at the table in a rare but peaceful moment, I asked Miss P, how her garbage can was. That's code in our house, for,  "what kind of emotional junk is building up inside of you, burdening your heart and soul. "

Not too bad, came the reply. Always a relief, and then a question or two more to ensure that this is in fact the case.

"what is the hardest part?" I asked. {about Mommy and Daddy splitting up}

A long pause, and then an honest answer...

"The hardest part, is not knowing whats going on with you when I am not with you." came her reply. 

Then a little more, "I worry about you when you are away from me, I worry if you are ok, if you are safe, I want to know how you are....{and then quickly to balance the comment} and I worry the same about Daddy"

"I am sorry", I replied....because, this isnt the kind of thing a young girl should worry too much about, and yet I suggest,  with Mommy as a flight attendant and Daddy an exec who travels alot, she might still have these worries if we were together. 

Not the same, Mommy. Came the look across the table. 

The burden of being alone in loving the other parent, weighing on those eyes, that heart. 

"but......", I continued, "Mommy always makes sure to say good morning and goodnight, to let you know her schedule, to tell you when its changed and to be there for lessons even when its a Daddy day."

"I know", came her reply. "but still....",,,,,,"that's the hardest part".

Fair enough.

I suppose I can't really know what that feeling is as I have not walked or lived in her shoes. In the shoes of an eleven year old girl who loves both her Mother and Father and worries about them when she is away from them. When they are away from her.

Yet, I know well, as a divorced  Mother of two beloved daughters, what it is to love them and let them go, to be ok with not knowing everything. Not being there for everything. To celebrate with them, joys I hold no part in. To support them in relationships that no longer serve me, but are very much a part of their lives, and to accept from them, the new realtionships they make apart from me. 

I could feel it go down, bittersweet I could taste in my mouth...

Silver lining the cloud, oh and I, I wish that I could work it out.

It takes a huge amount of grace to do all of those things. To detach from ego. To embrace the dysfuctions and awkwardness, to heal from the brokenheartedness. 

I have worked very hard at this,  I feel my daughters have too.

So resilient are they.....yet they look to their parents to show them the way.

They need at least one parent to do that. 

The truth is, children know when things are awkward and unhealthy, and they secretly hope that the adults in their lives can blaze the trail gracefully through it all, so that they can too.

***click on the Link below  to hear "The hardest part {acoustic}  -by  Coldplay"

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zuozgD_esms

....and the hardest part was letting go, not taking part.
you really broke my heart.

A little more about light

Sometimes the universe is perfectly in sync with our hearts, our homes and our circumstances,

In truth, I believe the universe is always in sync with these elements,  its just that we can't always see this when we are in the midst of a storm.

The other night, I was reading from a children's encyclopedia to my youngest daughter.
We were reading about the universe, space, the atmosphere, sound, colour, speed and light.

The following passages struck me on a personal level.

"Light always travels in straight lines. Light can spread out, but it cannot bend around things"

"Shadows are made when light hits things it cannot shine through. This is blocked and so, a patch of darkness is made".

These are scientifically indisputable facts.

As I read, I couldn't help but draw a contrast to the truth of this in very real human interactions with ourselves and others as we struggle through relationships and other life challenges.

Sometimes its life circumstances, difficult relationships, personal struggles or a combination of all three. These things create blocks in our lives, preventing the light to pass through.

Rather than be afraid of these blocks, be grateful for the shadows they cast and the lessons to be learned within them.

So many of us are raised to literally flee from the shadows towards the light. This is a useful survival instinct. We all seek the light, enlightenment, a lightness of being. Of course we do.
Yet so many of us fail to acknowledge that in order to contrast our very real need for the light, we must also dwell in the shadows.Spend time there. Embrace our own darkness, learn our lessons and find our way back.

The place where the light enters

The wound is the place where the light enters ~ Rumi 

There has been a lot of love in this house lately. A lot of talk about 

what  we love and what we like - the things that make our house a home and 

our family feel secure. 

The other night while I was putting her little sister to bed, Miss P snuck around the house leaving sticky notes with positive affirmations to be found  in the morning. 

She left them on the mirrors and by the front door - places where we would see them and be reminded that, we are "Be-you-tiful" and "awesome". Encouraging us to "create something", to "be yourself", to "be kind" and that we "are loved". 

There is something both humbling and rewarding to see the beautiful light within my children, shining outward from a place where there was once a heaviness of heart and a quiet sadness. 

I feel ever grateful and blessed to have a home in which their feelings and emotions can be freely expressed and shared . 

A place where joy and encouragement are spontaneously and lovingly displayed, where I too am reminded, in case I ever foolishly forget, to speak with love, kindness and encouragement. 

To choose positive expressions of love in the smallest of ways on the most ordinary of days and to know that this is the foundation of all things.  

On staying connected and reassuring worried hearts

This past Friday evening, I was supposed to fly to Paris.

I was fortunate enough to have been sent elsewhere and the gift of modern technology ensured I could easily send a message to my daughters, making sure they knew I was not on a plane flying overseas.

Over the last two years, technology has been a blessing to our family, keeping us connected when we have to be apart.  There have been tearful reports of sibling fights, scraped elbows and knees, bed time kisses and birthday lullabies, sillies and sorrowful tears. There have been never ending conversations and comfortable silences, homework sessions, lectures, and decorating "reveals".

Geography and circumstances are no match for facetime or text.

When scary things happen in the big world around them, little hearts are blessed to be able to seek connection with and reassurance from their loved ones with the help of this technology.

Without this, my wise, thoughtful, and very aware eleven year old daughter, would not have been able to seek the connection and reassurance from me that she needed after learning of the Paris attacks.

The following is a text conversation we had Saturday evening, she could not fall asleep that night, so she reached out to me on text and eventually facetime (a rare thing for this little girl)....

P: Mommy why did you not go to Paris

Me: I didnt go to Paris because they gave us a choice not to

P:why?

Me:I wanted to stay away from Paris until things calmed down and were under control.

P: oh

Me: how did you feel when you found out about what happened in Paris?

P:Good that you were not there. I had a feeling that you should not go to Paris.

Me: Your sister told me you were very upset on Thursday night that Mommy was going to Paris. She said you were worried and scared. You have a special gift of intuition - always listen to that little voice inside.

P: I know

Me: The city will be ok again - it was last year and it has gone through much worse in history.

P:Everyone was on the soccer field.

Me:I know it was something nobody ever expected, that's why its terrorism. Do you feel worried or scared?

P: Not really, I know we live in a safe bubble in our town, but I do wonder why they don't bomb the Eiffel tower.

Me: yes, where we live is a safe bubble, and sometimes when we live in our bubble we forget that bad things happen in the world. But, when we live in fear that means the terrorists win because we give up our sense of freedom when we are scared - so, even though its scary - its important to live our lives without fear.

P: clapping hands emojii

Me:I think they wouldn't attack the Eiffel tower. Part of being a terrorist is trying to make people afraid to live their every day lives.

P:But if they want to destroy Paris, wouldn't they target a main attraction?

Me: They don't want to destroy the city honey, they want to destroy peoples feelings of being safe and free.

P:Why do they set off bombs then

Me: to hurt people. To scare people.

P:oh

Me:To spread hate and fear. Its not good, none of it is good. But what I think you should see and feel sure of, is that there are thousands of people who are helpers.

P: I know.

Me:So when bad things happen, I think its really important to see the helpers....Police, Fire, Military. There are way more of them and they will always help and keep us safe. xoxo

Its not the same as holding her in my arms and giving her a comforting hug, (she got LOTS of those today), but its something.  I am grateful for the ability, however great or small, to stay connected to my girls, even when we are not physically together.

Much love to facetime and imessage for keeping us connected and hosting heart to hearts when we need them most.

On Mothering {after divorce}

On Mothering after Divorce

Yes, you read that correctly, I am going to talk about THAT.

There is a common misconception that our role as Mother (or Father) , following a family breakdown, should somehow divide, diminish, change, become less relevant, once we have left our Marriages.

As if we are to accept that there is a magical divorce fairy,  who sprinkles us with some kind of ability to step back to a legally determined "percentage" of parenting. As if beating hearts can be tricked into dividing themselves appropriately.

Hmmm. I am engaging some filters as I turn THAT idea over in my mind.

I shall never forget the blank look I once gave a mediator as she informed me, that there would be a time in which I would "welcome my time off  [from parenting] for 'good behaviour'" .
Not sure I can write what was floating in the unspoken bubble over my head, but anyone who knows me can only imagine the vivid thoughts firing off in my brain at the suggestion of that. 

After nearly two years of exploring this new territory, I feel I can offer some honest commentary on what it is to Mother, consistently following divorce, when the system, society, sometimes well intentioned friends, rarely ever therapists (and often our former Partners), imply or suggest that we should divide ourselves, as we have our households, and magically arrive at a percentage of acceptable parenting output.

Yes my friends, this is where the whole 50/50 thing (or whatever you magic number) fails.

I have heard it all and certainly being predisposed to self examination, introspection, honest conversation, and everything in between, I am here to say, dear Mothers (and Fathers),  do your best to Parent the same damn way you did before you dissolved your marriage, and if you can, if there is room to, Parent even better than you did before.

This is not a time to go off into the sunset, to wallow in your marital failures, to seek solace in new endeavors and relationships. Not judging if you did, if you have, if you are. We all fall short. There will be dark times, that is inescapable and we all deal with these in our own way.
If you can, if you have the presence of mind and the patience of heart, take this time to close ranks, to draw close to your children and your dearest friends. Turn inward. Allow yourself time to heal, be a parent first and tend to your well so that you may draw from it as needed, for your children (and yourself) when they are hurting. And they will be (you will be too).

Hold your head up, and show up. Nobody falls out of a marriage gracefully. Be present. Don't let the awkwardness of a dying relationship deter you from being there for your children. Short of having Mommy and Daddy together, children want in their heart of hearts, for things to remain as closely recognizable to their lives as they have always known them. 

That means if Mommy (or Daddy) ALWAYS showed up at Saturday lessons, for example, then Mommy or Daddy, whenever possible, should continue to do that.

Don't let the world convince you that you should be off enjoying your "time off for good behaviour", when you know your little people would love to have you present and cheering them on at their game. Don't let an intimidating ex, make you feel you are doing something wrong by being present and for the love of God, love your children, infinitely more than you hate your ex, if you are the type who hates their ex. (for the record, I am not)

Recognize that although a household may be divided into two, Children's hearts should never be.

In every choice that you make, always taken it back to "how I would have handled this situation, (within reason), were our family still in tact." This is, by far the best measure of intent and ensures, time after time that we are,  to the best of our ability, within our own unique set of circumstances, serving the needs of the little souls for whom our hearts beat. 

I,  by no means have perfected or found the balance, but I am clear in my intent. While my girls are young and my schedule and life allow, I will be present, in every way that I can possibly be, so that when they grow up they will know with certainty, beyond the chaos and dysfunction, that they always have and always will come first.

On what we love about us

There is a voice  in every Mother's heart, that convinces her she has failed.
Ok I am pretty sure that feeling happens often, like daily during challenging times.
As a new Mom, a sleep deprived Mom, a stressed Mom and a Mom facing the real life fall out of a marital breakdown.
Yes, at times like these, a Mother can feel quite certain that her children have been scarred for life.

Hindsight gives a different perspective   - and what I can see now is that we were initially in a constant state of clinging onto and hoping for some kind of familiar territory, as all humans do when faced with change.
Sometimes we went through the motions bravely and many more times,
we did not. In those times, we boldly expressed our sentiments about change and lack of control
and sadness and loss. We cried a lot. Talked a lot.
We indulged our need to grieve - and rightfully so. We did so openly and candidly, with raw and real conversations, the kind that make your voice shake. The kind that might be remembered sometime in the future..

It's been nearly two years since our family divided itself into two households.
Since then, I am happy to report that I can see and feel the centring and settling in.
We certainly faced our share of challenges to arrive at this point. We learned a lot about compassion and non judgement, for others, as well as for ourselves.

Now it seems, there  is a comfort, peace and stillness in our home. That is a blessing beyond words.
Greater still, is the blessing of knowing my daughters feel it too.

The other day, my littlest girl, set about to create a special gift for her mama - secretly she went to work and created a lovely little package with an opening - on top it had a question posted to it,
which read, "write something you like that happened in our house"
Beside it was a notebook, pen and an opening in which to drop your notes.

Where on earth does this wise child get these depths from ?
Yet more heartwarming are the notes inside, carefully folded up and written by both girls....

"I like how we stick together" , "I like how we care for each other nomatter what ,"when we have a family hug and cuddle on the weekends" , "spending time together reading, cuddling, colouring and laughing"

Sometimes finding a "new normal" is as simple as pausing and listening to the needs and desires of our hearts, to do what we are most called to do. To love as purely as we can and to hold enough space within us for the honest  expression of these things.

On your Eleventh Birthday, Miss P.

One of the unpleasant truths of divorce is that we cannot always be with the ones our hearts beat for, even when we want to be. This is something we all have to accept in our lives, one way or another but I believe it is more acute for children of divorce.

In the last two years, we have learned to adopt a wiser understanding of this fact. We know, without question that when you love someone, the heart knows no boundaries, no timelines and no restrictions.

Tomorrow my oldest daughter turns eleven. It is hard to believe that its been eleven years since we first met. I won't be cuddling her in the morning as she awakes, but I will be standing by a few hours later to watch her riding lesson, to be present, as her Mother, despite unconventional circumstances.

As her birthday approached this week, I permitted myself to reflect, just a little on all that has changed since I first became a mother.
In those early all encompassing days of being a new mother, I got lost in the joy, sorrow, frustration and challenges that each day had in store for us. I cheered every cheer, wiped every tear, and reminded myself on the eve of her first birthday, as I willfully weaned her from my breast,  that love and motherhood truly are languages of letting go.

I learned slowly that the teacher of these life changing realizations was none other than this tiny human, who ruled my heart and soul in the best and most basic of ways. Through her and in her and for her and with her, I found motherhood. My life has never been the same since.

As our family divided I remember the sadness and fear that gripped me. How could I still be the mother I knew in my heart that I was meant to be, if I had to step back, let go, even more than what was called for at any given time.

The answer is simply that the heart knows how to respond. The heart knows when, how, where and why. The heart knows that our best chance of moving through such a transition with grace is to not to allow our minds to question what our hearts know.

As recently as this September,  as children returned to school, I felt those familiar pangs of guilt and self doubt that I had felt since my youngest entered school full time in grade one.

It took some time, but yesterday it all made sense to me.

As a mother, our babies shall always be our babies. Even when we want them to become more independent. Even when we fight with them a little about that. The push and pull is lifelong.
Weaning them and ourselves begins at the tender age of one, at least for Miss P and I it did.

I have let go of the fact that I no longer have toddlers afoot in my home and in my house 24.7. I have also allowed myself to acknowledge that even though I have some pretty sweet moments to enjoy while my girls are in school, I need to be on my game every moment of every hour of every day they are with me. This is full contact stuff, so its important to be on my game.

What I know now, for certain, is that a Mothers heart never tires, never distracts, never seeks alternative ways to fill that motherly cup. With this knowledge I have come to understand that whether its your first step or your first jump landed on the trampoline, , its a moment in which,  I will be standing by cheering you on, come hell or high water, despite any schedules or court orders.

I am your Mother. It is my deepest pleasure, my most resonating truth, and my lifelong joy to continue on this journey with you, Miss P.
God bless your sweet soul on the eve of your eleventh birthday.
How amazing is it, that I get to be your Mom.
#thankful #blessed

On writing again

There was a time when I wrote everyday. I wrote to remember, and I wrote to forget. I wrote to share with friends, family and like minded strangers, and I wrote to hold on, to myself , to my daughters, to  the everyday moments that get lost somewhere between sleep deprivation, and the challenges of  raising  a young family. 

And then one day I stopped.  

Below is the last entry to my once well read blog. This was written in June 2014 , in part. as a letter to my  eldest  daughter.

I won't lie - life got very messy for a while (as it often does) and there are many things that broke our hearts and stretched them and numbed them and changed them. 

Like bearings on a compass - we held on to the familiar, certain these things could help us to navigate in unfamiliar territory. We surrounded ourselves with friends, other families and lots of loving animals. All of this helped to create a new rhythm  for ourselves while everything was out of sync. 

My girls  - You are such amazing children, each in your own way. I hope you know that.

Miss P, It breaks my heart, that you have experienced the things you have to this point in your life . I know you are capable and have the heart to grow through it all.
Believe me when I express,  the depths of my love and concern for you.

I love our chats at night when you fight falling asleep - yes even when I pretend to be impatient that sleep will not come. I love when you share your thoughts and feelings and I have watched as you have learned to put them to words without fighting the emotions behind them.

I love when you speak your truth. Even when your voice shakes and I know how you see my imperfections and those of others we love with eyes of non judgement. 

There is very little in this life that fills me with a joy so complete as to hear you laughing from deep in your belly, all the more when this is happening in the company of your little sister. 

I have worried about you in ways you will never understand - and I have watched as you have fought your way through some very difficult feelings and experiences. As  children, you are wise beyond your years, and full of grace.

You also know how to dig your heels in and be heard, to fight for the space in which you 
can speak your mind. I admire your tenacity.

Watching you on a horse is something that fills me with an emotion similar to pride, but closer to awe. You are a vision of determination, control, compassion, comfort, ease, perseverance and grace. 

WOW! If only years down the road when you are faced with challenges and doubts, you could access those feelings, and know without question that you are strong enough, graceful enough, loving and compassionate enough to meet and grow through any obstacle life puts in your path.

Every morning when I awake I thank God for you and your sister,  for our health, for every blessing we share together in this life, for every difficult time we have overcome together, for every happy memory made and every painful one left in the past.

I am only human - an earthly being, and I am so humbled by being your Mother. 

This amazing task of raising you, learning and growing with you has challenged me in so many ways, to step outside of myself, to embrace both light and dark,  to acknowledge strength and weakness, to grow and grow and grow....

The best part is, I get to do this while holding your hand, tucking you in, hugging, kissing,  loving and laughing with you and your sister! 

My life is everything I could have hoped it would be, simply because I am your Mother.

On being whole

There is no delicate way to say it - ours is a broken home. To label our family as broken certainly implies that we are "no longer whole" - and it is this very definition that is turning my thoughts and stirring my soul today .

This is a weekend when I am neither with my children or at work. While rare and often productive - this kind of solitary weekend forces me to examine my family life as I knew it as I know it and as it is evolving.

It's been nearly two years since our children have had two homes. Though emotionally painful in every way - we were abundantly blessed to be able to keep as much the same in their lives as before. Same school, same home, same friends. Despite this, their growth and struggle through the process  was difficult to watch and challenged every part of myself, as I know it did them.

Even as an adult, those early months alone on days without them, hurt,  like an injury - like a gaping wound,  from which I was certain I would never recover.

I drank wine (no more than the average mother) cried a lot of tears, went for walks, spent time with friends while my children were in school - other mothers, mentors, angels, peers - those both further ahead and a little behind me in their journeys. I skied my butt off, went to counselling, acted brave and did a lot of yoga .

With grace and time, and to my surprise, those gaping wounds healed. I still had scars -believe me - but the acute pain of a new injury faded.

Old injuries can be funny and at times scar tissue can cause a phantom type of pain.
This phantom pain rises up in me when I am wandering through stores alone on the weekend (it doesn't happen very often) - knowing that my children aren't just at home for me to hug when I return - but that they are somewhere else living the other half of their life until returned to me, to our home, one of their homes.

It makes me think and rethink and turn over what it is to be divorced. From a child's perspective it is painful and anyone who tells you it isn't,  is simply not speaking the truth.

From a grown woman's perspective - it is painful. And anyone who tells you differently - also isn't speaking the truth. Even if we chose this.

Here is where my thoughts on "brokenness" diverge. Ours is a broken home,  but what I know now, is that I am more whole than I have ever been. As a Mother, daughter, friend, woman and human.

Do I think it is sad that a divorce is the mechanism by which I gained this wholeness? Absolutely.  In a way it is tragic. It is so far from what we plan for, hope for and as humans seek comfort in. I certainly wish there was a gentler process by which a soul could evolve - something less destructive, less emotionally violent for each of us.

Yet I know without a doubt that my daughters are wiser, more compassionate, all seeing truth speakers - than they ever could have been - than I ever was - until our family changed shape.

Pain can be an amazing teacher. When everything else crumbles, the greatest danger lies not in brokenness - but in allowing our hearts to be hardened by the effects of disappointment, fear, anger, blame, guilt, and imperfection.

Allowing our hearts to grow through pain is the antidote to brokenness and the pathway to being whole once again.