Welcoming Adoption!

As the year comes to a close I feel tired and unfinished.  I always long to be steady and to finish my years well.  One of the things that I have been consciously facing this year has been the nagging feelings of "never enough" that have been with me for most of my life.  I am feeling more free of those feelings today, thankful for all that is.  Christmas, with its busy materialism and excess of all things good and not so good has brought back a few of those nagging doubts.  I welcome those feelings as an encouragement to keep on going in seeking God's fulfillment and way for me.  As much as adoption has brought turmoil and stress to me and my family, it has been a great joy and gift to me over these last years.  We adopted in 2006, 2008 and 2010.  Not this year.  Still there are children in our close circle who are available and longing to be adopted, but for various reasons they are not ours to formally adopt.  This year has brought adoption joy and sadness in my circle of friends.  Most recently a wonderful Christmas surprise miracle adopted baby visited our home with great rejoicing.  Other dear friends are waiting for that miracle of adoption to be theirs.  I know several children who continue to hope for their own families too.

For my family, I do not think that formal adoption of more children would be wise.  Still, I want to always welcome adoption.  Adoption means so much more to me than the formal adoption of one or two or more children.  It is an attitude of open embrace in our lives.  God invites each and every one of us to be His adopted children, forever part of His family.  We can be open to adopting others into our families and circle in ways that are not formal, but nevertheless equally as important and real.   Caring and committed community is rare in our culture where we are often transient and disconnected.  Even in our churches a culture of love and community is often lacking.  So many of us feel alone and isolated for much of the time.

As this year closes and a new year unfolds, I am holding adoption in my heart.  I want to be still and to welcome all those opportunities to both be adopted and to adopt in the year to come.  I want to have a receptive and welcoming heart to those around me that can enfold me as a daughter, sister and mother.  I want to see those for whom I can enfold and encourage and adopt in my heart in loving community and relationship.  I do trust that as we seek God and rest even in His most quiet and unassuming ways of the little things in life, that adoption will continue forever in my heart and family.  I want to increasingly rest in His arms and the arms of those that come my way, extending my arms to others too.  May we all enlarge our view of welcoming adoption.  We all need one another in love and care and commitment!  May this new year be blessed in adoption for us all!

Elisabeth

After the excitement of new birth, the ordinary reality of life quickly takes over.  Mary pondered all the events surrounding the birth of her son, Jesus, holding them in her heart, but quickly life became complicated.  She and Joseph were warned of Herod's jealousy of a newborn king and his mass murder of baby boys.  They had to leave the meager supports that they already had to become refugees heading for the safety of Egypt.  The miracle birth was not an easy birth or an easy road in any way.  In fact, it brought suffering and struggle that is not foreign to so many in our world today.

The aftermath of Christmas also similarly brings an element of post Christmas challenge and depression for many.  Often our resources of energy, time and money are depleted.  We need to pick up our bags and get going again, often in very ordinary ways.  While Mary magnified God in her heart, often Christmas magnifies both the good and the bad in our own lives.  It brings up both the pain and the sorrows of life in ways that are perhaps more easy to skirt at other times of the year.

Today I found my heart wandering back to the elderly new parents, Elisabeth and  Zechariah and baby John.  Certainly they were holding young Mary and Joseph and baby Jesus in their hearts as they escaped to safety.  Elisabeth had been such an encouragement to Mary in those early days, deeply understanding the miracle that had come to them both.  She would not forget.  She would pray and continue to encourage throughout Mary's life as together they had shared this amazing time of wonder deep in the wombs of their being.

Twenty three years ago  in my mid thirties, I gave birth to a miracle child.  I have always so appreciated Elisabeth and her incredible hidden support of Mary and so we named our first born child Elisabeth.  By the deep grace of God, our Elisabeth has been a hidden support to me.  She is a "glass full to overflowing" person who always sees and remembers the positive in others.  This morning as I was tired and a tad discouraged in the aftermath of a full and good Christmas, my Elisabeth deeply encouraged me.  Together we baked and cooked and talked.  She encouraged me to stop fussing over those things that I cannot change and to move forward into the day, leaving behind regret, mistakes and those things that I have not done as I would have liked.  Especially when my own resources are depleted I fall into old jealousies and guilt over things I cannot change.  Elisabeth encouraged me to go forward positively, reaching into the possibilities of this new day.  I am off to take the dog for a walk and will even dip into a book today, consciously and actively leaving the past and post Christmas discouragements behind.  Thank you to my Elisabeth, for your encouragement and love today.  I pray that there might be encouraging and praying Elisabeths for you in these ordinary days ahead.

Treasure

Christmas day brings treasure. There are the treasures of gifts given and received.  Expressions of love and care and of knowing one another so that just the right gifts are given.  There are the treasures of a day together.  Time with family and friends.  Treasures of good food.  Delectable treats.

A treasure for me this Christmas is this painting by my daughter, Rebecca.  The colour is dyed into the canvas so that even the artist material is an integral part of the painting.  Stitches are also sewn into the fabric.  Within the painting, hidden among all the other structures is one special home.  The treasure of this painting is in its whole, canvas and all.  It is subtle, but no less a treasure.

Don't forget those hidden treasures within us all.  Like this painting, the treasures may be hidden away behind clutter.  There are areas of our lives and hearts that are tucked away and waiting to emerge.  Perhaps dreams held since we were children.  Parts of us that are gifts deeply ingrained and stitched into the fabric of our being that have not yet been discovered or developed.  Old barns tucked away deep in the hills of our hearts were there are the seeds of new beginnings.  Love and light emerging in our souls.  The treasure of God's Spirit there deep within us but not yet recognized or fully appreciated.

On this day those thousands of years ago there was a new beginning.  A new birth of good news of great joy that is for us all.  That birth was not immediately recognized.  It happened in a remote and ordinary place.  Today that new birth is within the ordinary places of us all.  Behold.  Look carefully within. Find that missing present and unwrap it!  Learn to recognize its stirrings and cries.  May the child of God be born in our hearts today.  May he be there in the manger of our souls.  May we call Him by name and delight in His presence.  May we magnify Him and hold the reality of his being as our greatest treasure this day.

I wish each unique and special person who somehow has stumbled to this place a most blessed Christmas Day.

The Bridge

Bridges are essential in the place where I live, next to the mighty Fraser River, the vital and rich link in our province.  In the last year there have been some significant shifts in my community as three new bridges have been created. They are actually beautiful structures that link and facilitate presence and community.  One of the bridges in particular has opened up some wonderful links for our town.  I have been surprised  by how one bridge can bring such a huge change in perspective and community.  The bridge has two huge bronze eagles flying high in its structure.  They always remind me of the prophet Isaiah's encouragement that "Those who hope in God will renew their strength.  They will soar on wings like eagles and will run and not grow weary and walk and not be faint."  (Isaiah 40:31).  That bridge has significantly changed my perspective and patterns of travel and does in fact lift up my soul in its beauty and wonder whenever I cross it.

I have always been encouraged and refreshed by this painting of the "Bridge over the Water Lily Pond" by Claude Monet.  It reminds me to open up my perspective and to be receptive to the changes that bridges can bring.

The birth and life of Jesus is God's bridge to us.  How many gods come down to our level to communicate their character as one of us?   It is like us becoming an ant so that we can bridge the gaps of our differences to communicate with ants.  There are so many criticisms of the tight narrowness and restrictions and exclusiveness of the Christian way.  I totally agree that often us Christians become mired in tight legalism in order to somehow cushion ourselves from the harsh gray realities of life.  As I look at Christ's life, he actually moved freely out of  the legalistic and narrow views of those around him who wanted to live within safe boundaries of protection.  He broke down the walls and invited people to a larger and more inclusive way.  I am always so encouraged to look to the open and inviting bridge that God gave us so that we can really know Him.  Jesus is that bridge.  I want to openly know who he is so that I can know God.  He was a person of history.  An amazing person.  In this Monet painting we cannot clearly see where the bridge leads. My perspective is also more on my own side of the bridge, but increasingly I want to go with Jesus on that journey over the bridge to know God.  Christmas is all about how Jesus has opened our range and perspective to be the bridge for us to enter into relationship with the God of all Life.  I have choice about whether I will cross over.  There is risk and adventure and change.  Christ is the gift of a bridge for us to travel in relationship with God this Christmas!

The Quarter

Sometimes  as we travel among the closed-in boxes of life we have red balloon moments where we rise above all the tight angled constrictions.   Paul Klee depicts a breakaway moment in his "Red Balloon."  Yesterday I had a joyful highlight in the Cooper's Food store parking lot.  Any of you who are still having to make treks to the stores have probably faced the parking lot challenges these days.  The whole of our town must be out and about in their cars.  Everyone is on the prowl for a car leaving their place.  Usually there is a line up for each spot as the cars jockey for position.  After securing a treasured place in the parking lot, I finally made it out to get my grocery buggy.  With the encouragement of my kids I have moved to a rather small purse in these last years.  I was known for my suitcase like purses for way too long.  Still, I try to cram everything I could possibly need in any emergency into my now small purse.  I stood at the buggies, purse overflowing, trying to find a quarter.  The change part of my purse is tiny, and my squished fingers kept pulling out everything but a quarter.  I was focusing on not dropping anything important when a voice asked if I would like her quarter.  She was a young woman with a little boy in tow.  She reached toward me and held out the quarter.  "Don't worry about the change!"  She had a gentle smile.  I gratefully accepted her gift.  Her kind generosity of spirit  deeply touched me.   It was a holy moment to be treasured.

Our most significant gifts to one another come from the heart.  We can touch even those that we do not know with our kindness.  I want to listen to my heart and watch for the opportunities to naturally express goodness.  In midst of my scurrying around trying to make everything just right, I hope I can listen to that still small voice and walk in the way of gentle love.  For me, that quarter was an important part of my Christmas.  I cannot do everything, but I can keep hold of the kindness of my heart and let go of perfection.  I can follow my heart in those little but significant expressions of love.  There is always enough time for what is most important.  Thanks so much to my beautiful young woman who shared her quarter with me!  Your kindness lifted my heart in a red balloon moment that I will not forget.

The Noble Fir

We did dig up our Christmas tree.  It reminds me of this Twisted Pine by Tom Thompson, one of the artists of the Canadian Group of Seven.  For our Christmas tree discovery expedition we donned our gum boots and pulled out the shovels, root cutters and even the axe and a hatchet and headed off in two full cars.  Our first stop was the place that we went many years ago when the kids were young.  Our Lizzie had won the Christmas light counting contest there two years in a row.  It was at the end of a long dreary country road, but this year there were no bright lights and hot chocolate and only the occasional random tree poking up from the field.  Certainly no activity there.  The cell phones were buzzing from car to car as we had to decide what next.  I headed one way and then turned around.  Second car was frustrated, not liking to be a follower at the best of times.  The signs for Christmas trees once plentiful seemed sparse this year.  Finally we saw a sign and went to see.  A warm crackling fire and a friendly man welcomed us.  It was their first year selling trees.  A full acre of tree of all shapes and sizes.  We unpacked the car and went looking.  There were douglas firs, standing straight and strong, trimmed and ready for their place in Christmas. Hidden at the back through some muddy puddles and off the beaten track were the noble firs.  Most were small and perhaps not in line to be dug up this year.  Nevertheless, they were the trees that captured the hearts of my crew.  There was a  mounting enthusiasm among everyone to go for one of the misshapen and small but character full trees.  A couple of the younger girls ran back to the owner man to ask if it would be possible to take one of those trees planned for years to come.   "Any tree!"  were his words.  It did not take long for our two men to dig up the tree.  Unlike any other tree we have had in the past, it came up easily.  My heart leapt.  I was delighted that perhaps the tree might be able to be nicely potted.  This year I might not have a huge wheelbarrow in my living room throughout Christmas!

Twisted fir is our first surprise for this Christmas.  The reaction of all our guests is a gulp and a smile.  "Is this tree big enough for your big family?"  "Hmm.  A different tree for this year."  "What about all your ornaments?  They won't fit!"

Surprise tree is our noble tree.  The ornaments that are important will fit.  It is more than enough.  Christmas does not have to be excessive.  There is beauty in the simple and small and misshapen.  It is reflects our gentle and quiet hearts  and  is full of unique wonder and joy.  This year we embrace the tree found and brought home on the road less travelled.

Be Encouraged!

Sometimes it feels like there is chaos all around.  I  feel broken and not able to be and do all that I would like.  This painting by Piet Mondrian, The Ginger Jar, encourages me.  There is such beauty and stability in that rather flawed ginger jar sitting among the confusion.  It challenges me to be grounded and to stand firm in the reality of who I am.  I want to be still and full like this most radiant and firm ginger jar, not denying my own cracks, but letting light and life shine through them.

Storm Boy

I miss you my storm boy!  You have had quite a rite of passage into becoming your own person in these last months.  Today was just one more story of initiation to end this first chapter.  I was up hours before sunrise this morning so that I could go to Victoria to  pick you up from university.  Over two slippery hours of challenging driving later, I was back at home without you!  All the morning ferries were cancelled and it was difficult to even navigate the local streets.  I was disappointed and felt disconnected but shifted my day and had some other good connections.  Life is often full of unexpected storms and challenges.  Within the storms of our life passages, things are not always how they first appear.  Keep on paddling, waiting for the way forward to open up.  Watch carefully for the unexpected.  Enjoy the adventure of surprises in each day.  Many of us may feel like we are paddling under water these days!  Look out for what you can learn and who else you can meet under that strange sky!  Maybe tomorrow will return you back home to us here.  I look forward to hearing of the unique adventures of your day in the storm!  May God continue to lead and guide you in ways unexpected.   Watch out for those saving killer whales that He sends to care for you along the way.

Those Moments

We have choice over the images and thoughts that occupy our hearts.  Certainly there are things that all of us must do in order to live.   When all that is said and done, though, we have a lot of freedom about where our hearts wander in those moments of life.  More and more these days I am choosing to delight in those special and unique moments of life that are all around us in our ordinary lives.  Those moments where the smile of another encourages our hearts.  Moments when we hear the comforting sound of rain on the roof, lulling us to sleep.  It takes attention to recognize these moments as wonderful treasures where we can dwell in the imagination of our mind and soul.

I hold this image of fruit in my heart to remind me to take delight in the special and sacred moments of ordinary.  There is nothing out of the ordinary about a bowl of fruit.  Our eyes and hearts can chose to see the beauty.  The shape of the fruit, the warm muted colours, and the simple plate holding them all speak to me of gentle and peaceful holiness.  I can hold all these things in gratefulness and pleasure.  It can be a learned habit.

My life goes on as a rather frazzled mother facing all the challenges and struggles of life.    I am not avoiding all this, but choosing in my heart to notice the incredible beauty of all life's richness around me.

The Gathering

I saw this painting displayed at a small kiosk in the Abbotsford Airport one day last fall as I was saying goodbye to an adult child departing. At a time when I was grieving the loss of summer and family times together,  this scene immediately captured my heart with its bright fresh colours and expression of the Gulf Islands on a sunny summer day.  The artist is Graham Herbert, a resident of Hornby Island, one of my favourite places.  I went there frequently as a child and remember long days on the sandy beaches, making sandcastles and moats and walking along amazing sandstone beaches in their varied shapes.  It is a fresh and happy painting of boats together.  I can almost hear the waves gently lapping and the gurgle of water against the boats.  I can smell the warmth of the salty sea and a touch of new paint.

This painting is aptly called "The Gathering."  Now is a time of gathering.  We gather together in love and holding in the aftermath of tragedy.  We gather together to support one another and care.  We gather together for the celebration of Christmas and for family.  We include others in the gathering.  Reach out and gather in those others standing alone.  Include those for whom the general gathering only makes the aloneness all the more acute. For many this time of gathering will bring afresh the grieving and pain of missing those no longer here.

For us, over these next days and weeks our far-flung children are slowly and gently returning home.  The Christmas gathering is beginning.  Things are shifting once again in the family dynamics.  Each unique boat is returning to tie up in our bay for a time.  Those that are here regularly are excited, and have to move over.  The mooring places are being rearranged and the waters are stirred a bit.  It is comforting to have the bay full with boats unique and brightly coloured.  Some have deepened in their colour and charm since we were last together.  Others have had some paint peel and some new dents. Together I hope that we gather to support and care.  It is not always easy or as happy in real life as in this idyllic scene.  Old tensions do erupt.  Patterns long gone bubble to the surface again.  As parents we need to be sensitive.   The ropes that bound tightly when the kids were younger need to be loosened often considerably.  They are their own captains now.  Sometimes the extra sway causes some collisions.  Gathering implies coming of ones own accord and enfolding.  My arms are open to gather in the secure mooring place of our home.  May I have the sensitivity and wisdom to gather in ways that are healthy and inclusive while allowing uniqueness and self direction.  It may all be more jumbled than this painting implies.  That is okay.  Still, the colour and order of this gathering image will help keep my heart calm and at peace with hope for happy days of warmth and rich flavour together in the gathering.  It reminds me that God gathers us to Himself in love and care.   His sheltering cove is waiting as a place of peaceful and safe moorage.  Welcome home to my loved ones.

Don't be afraid!

This has been a week of fear and tragedy.  I do not understand why God allows such tragedy in our midst.  I love this pen and ink drawing by Rembrandt.  My heart turns to it frequently.  The lines are chaotic and full of anxiety.  Mary is not sitting in peaceful repose.  Her life is being turned upside down in confusion.  Even the presence of the angel Gabriel is most likely scary.  I am imagining angels surrounding those mothers and fathers, brothers and sisters, and grandmothers and grandfathers of the slain children these days.  I think the angels are encircling them and looking at them with the same tenderness and compassion that is expressed here.  I do not understand the mysteries of life.   I do believe that God does love us and that His angels surround us.   I don't know for sure, but I think so.  I have sat with Mary in my own confusion and pain and known the comforting and tender encircling presence of God.  In our angst and fear and cares, God is with us.

Hold on!

It is the season of mother and child.  I like this one by Picasso as the child is a bit older.  Holding our children  does not end when they are no longer babies.  The holding has only just begun at that stage.  We need to hold on to our children for many years.  As our hearts are raw with the untimely ripping away of young children from their parents, remember to hold one another close these days.  Continue to give your children the physical holding that they so need.  We all need to inhabit all of our being: body, mind and spirit.  It is in the physical contact and holding that we can fully inhabit our selves.  Holding can take different forms as our kids get older.  Try those nightly foot and back massages.  Securely place your hands on your kid's shoulders in affirmation.  Firmly but tenderly give holding touch.  Continue those surrounding hugs.  Confidence, love and security that will last forever are communicated as we hold on to our kids.  Hold on.

Jesus Wept.

Two of the most powerful words in the Bible are that Jesus wept when he heard of the death of his friend Lazarus.  Somehow in the mystery of life, the God of the universe enters fully into life with us.  He stands with us in the full depth of our being.  He feels our pain.  He weeps with us.  He certainly is weeping over the deaths of all those in Connecticut today.  Sometimes there are no words adequate.  Often our own wounds prevent even our tears from flowing  freely.  For God those tears flow.  Be still and weep and pray.  May God stand with those families and give His comfort to many today and in the painful days ahead.

Beloved

Emily Carr entitled this painting "Scorned as Timber, Beloved of the Sky."  Indeed often as people on this journey we feel scorned.  Scorned by ourselves, our friends and our families.  Often I  feel like this tree in the depths of my heart.  Empty and delimbed.  The vast expanse of the sky is surrounding my soul in warmth and beauty swirling.  God knows and understands.  We are His Beloved.

Still Empty

Ben Johnson's empty stillness beckons my heart in quiet waiting.  I stand looking in with holy reverence.
Some of you may be wondering if this blog has any inkling of adoption emphasis left in it.  It certainly does.  I am communicating how I am coping as a mother of many.  Increasingly I am learning to go within to these empty spaces in my soul where there is quiet peace and empty.  My soul is quiet and stilled in these inner chambers.

Waiting in Reflection

As we approach Christmas, I am going to share my soul in images more than words for a time.   Chagall always speaks deeply to my heart.  I feel this is a reflection of myself in this time of Advent.   Covered with God's fresh forgiveness of the white prayer shawl, I hold fast to the words of faith in the Scriptures, praying quietly and chewing with the close presence of the cow over the meaning of their Words. There is the deep vibrating resonance of music in my heart and  the ever-present angel hovers above.

Secure

Art and visual images are an important part of my soul.  Both learning and understanding are frequently communicated to me in images.  Last thing at night I often look at a couple of images in a book of  art to help settle my heart.  I reflect on those images at night and during the day.

One of my closest friends, Sharon Quirke, is an artist.  Images from her work are deeply ingrained in my heart.  She once did a northern arctic igloo series.  Light emanated through the igloos into the cold white darkness around them.  Those igloos were home.  Later she did a series focusing on the ropes or lines that attached boats to the dock.  Those lines linking us all are there in my soul.  She is now working on a boat series that includes mythical boats, dinghy boats, and boats in a marina.

One boat in particular resonated with my heart.  It was a little character-full tug boat securely moored in a marina in Egmont on the Sunshine Coast here in British Columbia.  Off in the distance are the coastal mountains, towering above Jervis Inlet.  Princess Louisa Inlet where I spent many summers as a mountain guide is just around the corner.  The tug is in the marina.  Somehow, the tug boat's presence there tied up in the marina has helped to settle me in my own present place in the marina of this time.  I am looking forward to my friend's next boats emerging as some of them venture out to sea.  Today though I understand my place to be securely tied in the marina. I am also like the marina itself.  Various boats come to tie up at my wharf.  Some of our family members have ventured out to sea on adventures of their own.  Others are still tied up and resting here at my side, preparing for future journeys.  There are times to be boats at sea, to be boats at mooring, and even to be the marina!  Each has its own secure place and  time.

Those Terrible Mistakes

I have been deeply impacted by the recent suicide of the nurse who mistakenly revealed a confidential medical report on Kate's condition for the whole world to hear.  She made a mistake.  Those trying-to-be-funny broadcasters made a mistake.  Probably the nurse's employers did not realize how deeply the nurse had taken her mistake and may have not supported her enough.  Even her suicide was a most terrible mistake.  A life taken for what was supposed to be a joke.

I have also made some terrible mistakes.  Said things that should not have been said.  Done things that should have been left undone.  There are many moments in my life that I wish I could undo.  While it is not possible to undo, there is hope for picking ourselves up and moving forward in the redo of new opportunities in the future.  One of my favorite parenting strategies is the immediate redo strategy.  When the kids do not listen or make an error, I point out the mistake and give them the opportunity to immediately redo their action right then and there. We need to give each other the grace and opportunities to try again.  Even in those tragic situations that seem beyond redemption, there is hope.  I  believe that even after death there is deep hope and grace abounding.  Nothing is beyond God's reach and love.  Even those ultimate mistakes in death are not outside the expanse of God's care.  In His love, He brings life and hope out of our worst and most tragic mistakes.

We need a big theology and a big God for those big mistakes.  Christ's birth starts out in the brokenness of the world.  Alone.  In a stable.  Certainly if others had known this was such an important birth, there may have been room in a place more suited to a birth than the barn.  Nevertheless, that birth in the barn in an alien world was not a mistake.  His death was seen by his disciples as a terrible mistake.  But it was not.  That death was redeemed and had purpose and plan that was actually all about our own forgiveness plan with hope for the future.

We have an expansive and abundant God who loves us.  Reach out to Him.  Come to Him with your broken and contrite heart.  Seek the forgiveness that He gives and then move forward to the redo.  Yes, we do need  to forgive ourselves and others, but God as seen in Christ and the Bible gives me comfort and strength to know an even greater forgiveness from God.  His Spirit gives me the power to pick myself up and keep on going with hope that there can even be purpose and beauty coming out of mistakes.  Go forward in the peace and grace of God to the hopeful and life-giving future today.

The Jon-a-gold Christmas Tree

My older far-flung children and I had a wonderful time chatting on facebook this afternoon.  Five of us scattered clear across the country.  So fun to connect together.  I could even see who was reading the messages back and forth in little light print at the bottom of the page.  I felt like a detective spy!  The primary topic of our communication was Christmas trees.  Our tradition in years gone by has been to dig up a Christmas tree at a Christmas tree farm.  Often that has meant a rather unruly root ball with the tree sitting in a wheelbarrow in the living room for weeks.  One year gardener husband was flat on his back with sciatica for days after digging up the tree.  That year the tree never even got in the house and was decorated by the front door.  After the trees are enjoyed for a couple of weeks, the tradition is to plant them somewhere on our property.  They are always thoughtfully named in honour of someone of importance for us that year.  There was an Uncle Doug tree after our much loved nephew who came to live with us for a time as an adult, a Dorie tree after a Hungarian student who was with us one Christmas, and even a Crystal tree after one of our newly adopted daughters.  Unfortunately her tree died three times. It was somewhat troubling to us as a family, but did at least reflect our perseverance!  You may be puzzled about how a tree can have three lives. My determined and frugal husband takes back the dead trees to the nursery as  they are bought with a living guarantee. The guarantee does not cover our family stress, however.  The Christmas trees were not the only thing testing our  perseverance, so finally something had to give and we abandoned the whole digging up the tree routine.  I went for the Great Canadian Superstore sales and have quite enjoyed the ease of the cut trees.  Last year gardener husband saw a great deal on fake trees and went to huge lengths to buy what he felt would be a unique and special  artificial tree.  Christmas has its stress around here and somehow the poor artificial tree became the lightning rod for quite a family ruckus.  As much as an artificial tree made sense, it was a significant loss  for me.  Although I had initially endorsed the switching to a fake tree, once it actually arrived I felt like I was losing my soul along with every other thing that I  had come to value in my life.  I was missing the piney smell and the symbolism of the tree's green life emerging in our midst.  Coping with a stressed and unreasonable wife, poor husband returned that tree too, with no replacements this time.  We all vowed to quietly skirt the Christmas tree issue for now.  Until today.  Older daughter had forgotten about the angry artificial return and wrote to suggest that we leave the fake tree in its fake box in the attic.  We all reluctantly remembered the angry ruckus and switched quickly to the plans for trees this year.  As they sit at their computers studying, far flung kids are making plans to resurrect the digging up the tree tradition.
This year the tree will be the Jon-a-gold tree.  We are hoping we can find a place of good nutritious soil that is not too wet for his roots.  We want him to live and survive in our family garden.  Husband is thinking we might even try planting in a prominent position in the front yard.  A new position and a radical departure from the back yard plantings previously.  Jon is indeed a man of a golden heart.  He does have a prominent place in our lives.  He will be spending much of Christmas with us, and I call him my newest adopted son!  Welcome for Christmas Jonathan.  We love you and are looking forward to you being with us in the family garden.

Giving Our All!

My daughters are all dancers.  They each come to dance with their own style and enthusiasm, and I am delighted in their joy as they move to music.  One of my daughters is particularly enthusiastic and unique in her dance expression.  She had years of significant neglect culminating in a very significant brain injury almost ten years ago.  She fell from a balcony and could not walk for many months.  She still has some weakness down one side.  Even a few years ago she could not stand on one leg or jump.  For years she was also very disconnected from her body.  The emphasis of her therapy for more than a year was to help weave together her mind, heart and body. We integrated weekly psychotherapy with massage therapy and carefully chosen activities including lots of music to help with integrating and healing.   Dance has continued the very significant healing and integration of her beautiful self.  She takes two dance classes each week, one in jazz and one hip hop.  She loves music too and plays the flute and sings in a choir at school. She savours each of these activities and they bring her joy and radiance from the inside out.     Surprisingly, she now has more confidence and dance experience than most of her peers at school.  Today she reported on their dance unit in phys ed.  She felt awkward because her enthusiasm for dance stood out in her class. Her partner stood and stared at her. In her confident way she smiled at me, eyes sparkling.  "I always want to give my all, mom.  No matter what!"

I was deeply inspired by my daughter again tonight.  I too want to always give all of who I am from my mind,  heart and body, no matter what my skill level or what others around me might think.

The Magnifying Glass

 I have always been intrigued and fascinated by magnifying glasses.  I can spend hours exploring the hidden treasures emerging from magnification.  Magnifying glasses bring forth both beauty and ugliness in the ordinary around us.  My most recent adventures with the magnifying glass were this fall when a number of my kids had lice.    I sure spent a lot of time of with that magnifying glass in hand!  Last summer I took a magnifying glass down to the beach at low tide.  I was amazed at the life squirming that I had never before seen.  Even here at home in the most ordinary of places the magnifying glass brings forth new surprises.  I must say, though, I cannot sustain the high powered effort of looking through the magnifying glass indefinitely or I start to feel rather dizzy.  I have to frequently look up and view the larger picture to help keep my bearings.

Some seasons of our lives seem to be magnifying glass times.  We are confronted more clearly with both the joys and sorrows of our lives in these times.  The lens of our lives sharpens and  life is magnified and brought forth in new and surprising ways.  In these times we often feel more acutely.  Our feelings can be both wonderful and also very challenging to manage, especially when life is magnified.  This season of Christmas can often be a time of magnification. So can times of parenting, adopting and so many events in our lives. Both the joy and the sorrow are sharpened and enlarged in some times.  It can be overwhelming and difficult to cope.

I want to live a full life that does not shy away from the sharp heightening of experience and emotion that can be magnified in special times. It helps to acknowledge these magnifying times and to sometimes change the view through the lens.  I like the fact that my camera has a number of lens possibilities.  It has the magnifying macro lens, but I can also change to the more expansive wide angle or even to the distant telephoto lens.  I also need to practice changing my lens view of life especially in these full days.  I want to consciously move from the magnification to the expansive and even the longer life view.  Those magnified events have a larger context.  It is helpful to learn to shift to see the bigger picture.   In consciously shifting perspective I can enjoy both the magnificence and the full expanse of the specific times and events that are a part of the larger whole of our lives.  May we enjoy both the intensity and the wider view of the loaded and special times of our lives in our relationships, parenting, adoption and even Christmas this year.

The Present Box

Those hours wandering around looking for a baptism gift never did result in a special and memorable delight for my daughter.  The only result was a bit of  progress on the inner dialogue of the blog post on presence.  Finally I resorted to looking in my present box jammed in the back of a cluttered cupboard.  I have a special box put aside for those  items to be regifted and a few unusual treasures successfully found in months and even years gone by.  Since I  mistakenly gave a lovely ornament back to the very person who gave it to me, I have not been as eager to check out that box.  This time I was surprised.  There was a delightful set of Ukrainian painted stacking wooden dolls.  They made me think of the layers of our lives unfolding.  Treasures stacked together.  The dolls are beautifully and intricately painted in rich colours and somehow seemed fitting for my special daughter and the depth and beauty of her challenging but multifaceted, deep and interesting life.

The dolls reminded me in turn of a very special painted Christmas egg ornament that stands here on my desk all year.  This painted egg creatively weaves together the truths of both Christmas and Easter.  Birth and death leading to miraculous new richness of life and hope are  linked in the smooth and symmetrical shape of an egg.  A small painting of mother and child emerge from the intricate woven pattern of colour and shape on the egg.  Sacred in the ordinary.  My career for all these years has been mostly caring for mothers and their children.  I help mothers hold and bond with their unique babies and children. I have never before linked  the importance of that early bonding and relationship with our mothers with  the emphasis in art on the mother and child Jesus.  Even the Son of God was cared for and held by his earthly mother.  Foundations of the world in the arms of a woman.  Those early months in the arms of our mothers are the primal undergirding of the rest of our lives.  For those for whom there was not warmth and comfort in those embraces, there is still hope.  In the rich depths of our hearts we can know the encircling embrace of God and  acceptance and love for our own child selves. All those images of mother and child surrounding us speak to the centrality of those sacred moments in our own lives.  I wonder if the very creation of those images has brought healing and grounding for the artists who perhaps, like so many, were wounded by their lack in reality, but encouraged in the fertile imaginations of their heart.  These images bring special life and depth to the experiences of my family this year.  May our wounded hearts know healing and rest in the quiet foundational embrace of mother and child so graphically expressed around us in this season.

Are you all done?

We all have our own areas of vulnerability.  One of mine happens to be shopping.  As I wandered aimlessly through a packed mall  looking for something special for my daughter-being-baptized last week, I must have been asked at least three times if I was all done.  All done my Christmas shopping was what the nice smiling ladies were asking.  I gave my nice smiling face back, gulping and trying to be funny and meaningful all at once.  "Well actually, I haven't yet begun" or "I just keep it all really simple."  Inside my stomach was knotting and I was thinking,  "I have no idea where to begin."  "This is not my thing!"  "I can't even find a baptism present let alone get started on Christmas!"  It does matter to me as much as I give all the right spiritual platitudes about it not mattering.  For goodness sake, I have eight kids and myriad family to buy for. I want them to feel special and cared for!  Even Jesus got gifts at his birth!

Now don't get me wrong.  I like surprises.  I like perfect meaningful gifts.  I have friends who are good at presents and enjoy it.  I do like giving gifts.  I like sharing.  I just am no good at shopping or even at making lovely little packages of cookies or granola.  Quite honestly, it does significantly complicate Christmas for me.  I know that it is not the gifts that are important.  I talk to myself about "presence" instead of "presents." I could probably even write a nice blog about  "Presence."  I had it half written in my head as I wandered around the stuffed mall last week.  I am good at the presence part of Christmas.  I want to focus on that.  I love the lighting the candles.  Reading the special Christmas books outloud.  Cooking the nourishing warm meals.  Smelling the cranberry-apple cinnamon hot cider brewing on the stove.  It is just that no matter how hard I try to tell myself that Christmas is not about presents, it is those darn presents or lack of them that catches in my throat and brings panic into the whole season.

Yes, we will try to keep it simple.   We will try to focus on the "Reason for the Season."  This year maybe I will be a little more gentle with myself and accept that the panic is okay.  I'll welcome it and include it along with the joy of all that is good and peaceful and loving.  I won't have it all perfect.  Some of the kids will be secretly  disappointed.  I'll be okay with that too.  I'll cook a lovely meal and fill the stockings with toothpaste and soap and an orange.  I'll tell myself to start earlier next year, knowing that will not be as I don't know what to get any earlier than later.  I'll go forward with the mixed feelings, the angst and the incompleteness that is life and indeed a huge part of the whole entire season of being a human being.

Moments in Time

Today was full of wonderful moments and also of very special interactions coming from mere moments in the past.  Sometimes I have been tempted to feel that all that is of importance has to  be somehow weighty, planned and outwardly significant.   I am increasingly resting in the reality that it is often in those unplanned and seemingly insignificant moments where life is most fully lived.
Our daughter invited some people to play an important part in her baptism who have not had long time influence in her life.  Their influence has been in essentially short meetings of time, but profoundly deep in meaning and impact.  The wonderful young woman who baptised her had only really had fleeting contact with my daughter previously.  In short moments my daughter felt deeply loved, understood and cared for by her.  Similarly, another woman came to our home and was an important part of our day.  Our daughter met her for an hour one afternoon at a church function.  The woman enthusiastically encouraged and inspired my daughter through her radiant spirit and life.  My daughter will always remember her inspiration in one short afternoon meeting.
I am encouraged to relax in the momentary being of daily life.  I want to learn to treasure those little moments in time.

Abundance

Daughter to be baptized  and I went shopping today for the celebration lunch that we will have after her baptism.  We were amazed at the lavish abundance all around us. The stores were packed.  Cosco was generous with the free samples, extravagantly offering us whole Lindor chocolates and a delicious caramel shortbread!  The lights were glittering and shelves laden with gifts to be.  We didn't even go down those aisles.  We did find a lovely cake.  My daughter was taken with it right away.  It is decorated with rich reds, greens and browns shaped in a lovely wreath and a bright shining candle.  The inscription is Happy Holidays.  I felt that wording did not quite capture the specialness of the occasion, but after standing with the heavy cake leaning over the counter and trying to get someone's attention, I realized that Cosco does not major in bakery service, so we took it as is.  At another store I bought one of those squeezy tubes so that I can carefully skim off the Holidays to transform it to  Baptism and her most special angelic name which does indeed mean pure and white!

As we walked through the stores I did wonder about abundance.  I do want to live a life of abundance, but somehow at this season of lavish overload I have been thinking that maybe the kind of plentiful bounty that I am after is different than that all around me today.  For me this external abundance does rather cloud my own inner connection to fullness that resonates with integrity in my heart.  For years I have been so enamored by all the external trappings and justifications of my journey.  Although I do love the lights and music and joy of the season, I am seeking more abundance within these days.  In my heart I am sitting with the animals in the quiet and lonely barn, quite content with the prickly hay in my hair and the rich smells around me.  I am listening to the gentle sounds of cows munching their hay and the quiet rustling warmth out of the brightness of the day.  The star is shining down and I am waiting.