In the Quiet

It's quiet in my house. Quiet is a rare experience in my world - both internally and externally.

The noises that populate my external world are heavy footsteps running up the stairs, the microwave beeping, laughter turned to bickering and back to laughter, dishes rattling, car doors slamming and 'good nights' yelled across hallways. These are the sounds of life and family and growing up.

Internally the noise is very different. It's a constant whirring of my brain trying to sort out my life. It's a cycling of what-ifs and worries and hopes. It's the sound of chaos and I hate it. But today the whirring stopped. Or maybe it stopped yesterday. It could have stopped last week, even. I'm not sure when, really. I just know that today it's quiet.

Ages ago, Christine Caine delivered a message where she talked about our lives being like an arrow; in order to be launched forward we need to experience the tension of being pulled back. That's how I feel. I feel like I have lived in the tension of being pulled back, of being readied for what's next. This tension felt terrible. It was uncomfortable and a key cause of the whirring. In this tension I struggled with the feeling of being left behind while knowing that there's always a 'What's Next'. I had to learn to be present in the tension. To learn from it. To rest in it. I had to learn to find quiet in the waiting. And I did.

During the last several months I have learned to trust my silence, to be at peace with the tension and to be confident in my own truth. Sounds kind of New Agey but its what I know to be true. I have always been intrigued with the Bible verse Luke 2:19

But Mary kept all these things, and pondered them in her heart.

I'm a verbal processor and my first instinct is to talk out whatever is happening in my life with someone wiser and more experienced. So how is it Mary, a young teen with the Savior of the World growing supernaturally inside of her, could just sit with that truth and ponder it on her own? How could she trust herself to understand it? How could she even breathe  in that tension? How could she trust herself  in that situation when I second guess myself in every situation?

She didn't trust herself. She trusted The Spirit of God in her. The moment I understood the the whirring slowed. The more aware I became of The Spirit of God in me, the voice in my heart that prompts me, the slower the whirring got and eventually it stopped.

And now it's quiet.

It's quiet enough that I can breathe. I can think. I can listen. I can feel compassion. I can sense direction. I can speak with my eyes, with my heart, when words are inadequate. I can sit in my aloneness and be at peace with myself. I can hear another's truth without questioning my own truth.I can see there is space for both, space for all.

This week I participated in a conversation on race, oppression and faith. It happened over the course of three days and was facilitated by the marvellous Idelette McVicker. During this conversation, the 20 participants shared their stories and listened, listened deeply, with compassion, to the stories of others. I am profoundly changed by what I heard and what I learned this week. It's hard to even talk about it because it was so sacred and so raw. I can't even.

There are two things that echoed in the circle and surrounded it while we shared. It was the linked ideas of Deep Listening and Ubuntu. Deep Listening is the idea that we enter the conversation with the intention of listening with compassion and without judgement. Our role is to simply listen so that the teller's suffering may be heard and somehow lessened by our compassionate listening. Ubuntu is the idea of community. It is "I am because we are." It is the recognition that our stories, though different, are linked. This is what I heard in the quiet.

So, it's quiet. I sit in the quiet, pondering like Mary, trusting that God is in this place of tension and that whatever comes next will come when I am ready. I sit, ready to listen with compassion and respond with grace. I hear Ubuntu in my heartbeat. It's strong, it's alive and it is in the quiet.

As I am in the Quiet.

Easing In

Monday, after the kids' first day back at school post-Christmas break, Joyboy hopped into the van and sighed heavily.

"What's up, kid? Didn't have a good day?" I asked.

"It was all right. It's just that it's a new year but everything was the same as before."

Yep. So … Happy New Year and … whatever.

When I was twelve, I travelled immediately after Christmas with my aunt and uncle to visit family in another province. I spent New Year's Eve with my aunt and her sons. We watched a movie, played a few games and then minutes before midnight she started handing out pots, pans and wooden spoons and told us to go outside. I thought she was nuts but it turned out that the whole town was a little loopy because we weren't the only ones out on the street in our pjs and with cook wear in hand. At the stroked of midnight the air was filled a cacophony of whoops, hollers and the banging of pots and pans. In under a minute the neighbourhood fell silent again and we went inside and straight to bed. Tons of hoopla then nothing.

For months before New Year's Eve 1999, people worried, planned, speculated and dreaded the anticipated fall out from the clocks rolling over to 2000. Some experts predicted a total, world-wide computer failure that would spark food shortages, water contamination and riots. I knew people - personally knew people - who were stockpiling food, water, batteries and weapons for the impending apocalypse. People were crazy with fear. I watched the midnight come and go in Australia, Asia and Europe and nothing happened. No computer virus taking out world systems. No riots. No shortages or panic. It was all very anti-climatic. I went to bed before midnight local time and the world kept on humming. Nothing changed.

2016. A new year. Same friends. Same family. Same co-workers. Same job. Same church. Same commitments. Same schedule. Same hopes. Same dreams. Same. Same. Same.

Before you abandon this post as the most depressing thing you've read so far this year take a minute and read that last sentence again. Read it with your inflections going up instead of down. It's all the same. You don't have to start over. You don't have to figure it all out from the beginning. Its all the same today as it was on December 31 at 11:59pm. There's no pressure here. There's no expectation of grand changes and life altering moments. It's just the same.

I think sometimes we put too much pressure on the new year. We place all our hopes on a new year being a significant moment of change. We make crazy resolutions. We make bold pronouncements. We make wild wishes. And then we hold our breath, cross our fingers and plead with the heavens to come through for us. Come on, Universe, don't leave me hanging! I've tweeted that this is my year! Don't let me down! Then when life continues to happen, as it inevitably does, we feel let down and discouraged. The New Year disappointed us. There's nothing new, just all the same. Blah.

What if we do things differently this year? What if 2016 isn't all about what's new? What if 2016 is all about taking the good from 2015 and bringing it forward? What if 2016 welcomed The Same with open arms and continued to build on to what 2015 and 2014 and 2013 and so on had already established as pretty solid and stellar? What if we eased into this year with no expectation but only permission to keep moving forward? What would that look like?

I figure it would turn 2016 into a year to be proud of. I think it would be a year of growth by degrees, of more smiles than tears, more love than frustration and more sustainable change than short term gestures. I think it would leave room for more self-love, bigger dreams and even a few calculated risks. I think we would be kinder to ourselves and others by the time this new year became old. I think we would be bolder, braver, smarter, wiser and more compassionate than ever before. I think 2016 would be the best year ever if we would only take the time to ease our way in.

Some of my Facebook buddies have suggested choosing a word or phrase as a theme for this year rather than making a resolution. Some of done it in the past and it's been very meaningful for them. I've not done it before but I might this year. This year my phrase may become 'Ease In'. I think I need that reminder. I can tend to be a bit of a bull in a china shop. I can also tend towards fretting when I can't see a clear path ahead. I've been in the weeds for months and its made me a bit wonky. I think I need to remember to ease in and that Winnie the Pooh once said, "Weeds are flowers, too, once you get to know them." So maybe I'm not in the weeds. Maybe I'm in the wild flowers. Maybe I'm in exactly the spot I'm meant to be. Maybe I'll know that better when I ease in.

Change is good but rushing isn't. Growth is necessary but stretching yourself past the breaking point isn't. Goals and dreams are vital but unattainable expectations are damaging. Plan. Look ahead. Move forward … just at an easy pace rather than a headlong charge. Just ease in a bit.

And what's a butterfly? At best,
He's but a caterpillar, at rest.
~John Grey

In the Frame

I was missing for a while. I was missing for about 10 years, by my calculation. There were a few rare sightings of me during those years but for the most part I was missing. And I didn't even realize it at the time. I didn't know I was missing until I looked back. Until I opened the photo albums. That's when I discovered that I was missing.

Like most moms, I don't love having my picture taken and when my Wee Ones were wee I avoided the front side of the camera at all costs. I wasn't happy with my post-baby body. I rarely had time to do my hair or make-up and most of my clothes were far from trendy and barely clean. In those Survival Years, I hated seeing myself in pictures mostly because I didn't recognize myself and I was uncomfortable and slightly ashamed of the person I had become.


And then cancer showed up.


In November 2011 I was diagnosed with breast cancer. I was 35. My kids were 11, 9 and 7 years old. We are all too young for this. Too young for cancer. Too young to confront my mortality but here it was and here we were.

The tumour was huge and growing fast. The word the doctor used was 'aggressive.' My life was being threatened from within and yet the only thing I could think about was how I had cancer and how cancer kills people and how there were no pictures of me. I had gone more than a decade doing everything I could to avoid the camera. There were almost no pictures of me with my kids, with Mr. Awesome, with my friends at this point. There was virtually no record of me actually participating in my own life. My vanity had kept me from capturing my joy, my love, my crazy on film and now it might all disappear.



My surgery was scheduled for December 19 so I planned a family photo shoot for the week before. We were oh-so-broke so I asked my mom to come with us on a drive through the city so she could help take pictures. I captured some incredibly precious moments of my kids interacting with each other because I love taking these kinds of pictures but I made sure to turn the camera over to my mom so I could be in the frame, too. The result was dozens of pictures of my family with me! They turned out beautiful! And surprisingly, I had fun in front of the camera. I loved showing my love in such a simple yet meaningful way. And the kids had fun seeing me having fun and being free.

Cancer died and I didn't. I lived - am living - and now I am intentional about capturing my life with me in it. There are pictures of me with my kids, my man and my friends. I don't only take the pictures but I post them, print them, frame them and celebrate them. I take goofy selfies with Crafty and cuddly close ups with Joyboy and I even force Dude to pose with me as often as I can. I take pictures of me and Mr. Awesome for no reason and for every reason. I get my friends in the frame, too. I smile, try to hide a few of my chins and hug tight the ones I love … including me.

A few years ago I wrote about my struggle with my body image (Falling in Love with Me) and today when I read that post I can't help but to feel proud of myself. I've come a long way. The more pictures I've allowed the more I have found to like about myself. There are certainly pics that end up in the delete folder but most of the snaps survive. What's more is that I can say something nice to myself about myself with each picture of me I see. I try to be as kind to me and I would be to you.

I have really nice eyes. I like my smile and my freckles have been my loyal companions for nearly four decades. I think its funny that my eyes nearly disappear when I laugh because of my ample cheeks. I like that I am tall enough to wear long tunics and sweaters but not too tall to feel good in heels. I like me. I like to see me with the people I love. I love that I get to live this one life the way I do with the people I do. I love that there are pictures to remind me, and to inform my children and future grandchildren, that I have a great life.

Lovelies, especially you moms of tinies, step into the frame. Cuddle up with your loves and snap a picture of two. Force your pals to join you in front of the camera. Snap some random pics of yourself with your folks. Leave a photo footprint of this life you love. Forget about your cow-licked hair, your half finished make-up and your 'extra padding' - just be bold, be lovely, be you and snap a picture or two this Christmas. And then share those pics! Use the hashtage #SRMIntheFrame to share your pics on social media with our blog-reading Lovelies.

More importantly, share these pics with the people in your world. Post them, print them, frame them, celebrate them.

Celebrate you!

The beauty of a woman is not in a facial mode but the true beauty in a woman is reflected in her soul. It is the caring that she lovingly gives the passion that she shows. The beauty of a woman grows with the passing years.

Audrey Hepburn

All of the Questions. None of the Answers.

This has been a weird year. It's been challenging because of All the Happenings but it has also been challenging on a deeper, spiritual level. It's been a year of changes and surrender. Of letting go and grabbing hold. Of silence and of massive soul rewrites. And during this time - especially the last three months - I have been spending time in the silent margins of my world, asking God, not what comes next (as is my compulsive habit) but, who is next.

Maybe I've written about this before, I can't remember, but this has become the constant mantra in the back of my mind, the backdrop to every decision, every conversation. Who is next, Lord? Who do you want me to encounter? Who am I to be available for? And in this availability to Who I have learned the deep freedom that comes with being silent, of not having all the answers. This availability is so not about me and what I have to give. It's about God and the love He is. In these moments I try to listen more and talk less. I ask questions that open the conversation, I pray that these moments are sacred, safe spaces for people to share their heart. I pray that my words offer more encouragement than advice and point the Who to The One. I pray that Jesus will be evident in these random holy conversations.

This is so not normal for me. I've loved being a talker, one with more answers than questions. I've loved to talk about what is going on in my life but have forgotten far too often to ask others what is happening in their world. (disclaimer: I am still a work in progress and have the tendency to spew out too many words about me before I even consider asking about you - especially if you are a comfortable person to me. Sorry. Thank you for loving me through my awkward-self-ness). It is this 180 turn in how I relate to the world that has made me pause and reflect on what I put out into the world.

For more than a year, I have been making notes on The Next Book. I wrote about 5,000 words and a really fantastic outline. I felt like I had a really good handle on The Next Book and then all of a sudden I didn't. I don't know that there was a specific moment or incident that was the beginning of the unravelling of this book but I sit here with a pile of tangled yarn where a neatly begun masterpiece once was. I deleted the 5,000 words, tossed out the outline and scribbled over the title. I took an intentional hiatus from blogging and set aside some time to just BE with myself. Be with myself and read.

Actually, I think I blame reading for this tangled yarn that was once my neatly crafted self. I read things that completely undid me. I read things that challenged me, broke me, healed me and shook me. I read things that were exactly how I saw the world and things that brought me to a new place in the world. I read things that resonated with my soul and things that ripped my patched together theology from my hands, dismantled it and left me with only the purest pieces. I read things that utterly changed every part of me - chipping away at the rough edges while moulding and reshaping the best, truest parts of my soul.

Yep, reading is to blame.

So here's the deal. I'm going to start writing again. The Next Book has become The New Book and its imperfectly beautiful. It's everything I never knew I needed to say about the things that matter most to me. I'll blog too. I'm not sure what will come out of me here but I will be real and vulnerable because you are My People. You are here because there is something about these random words that you identify with. I will remember that. I will trust you. I will share with you. I will invite you to join me on this journey.

One of the first things I want to share is something I've read recently. It's Sarah Bessey's new book Out of Sorts that was released today. I am part of her launch team which means I got an advanced copy of this gem. Let me tell you, I devoured it in two days and have spent the past month going back and savouring it slowly. I will write reviews and more blog posts about this book in the coming weeks but for now I want to offer you this one line from the book that has turned my world upside down …


I hope we all live like we are loved.


It was this idea that propelled my wandering, wondering heart into this new space. If I really believed that I am loved - loved by my friends, loved by my family, loved by my husband, loved by my Jesus - how would that change how I interacted with the world? How would that change how I spoke? What I wrote about? How I love others? If I lived as if all this love was true, what would my life look like?

I have no answers for you. My well loved life is different from yours. Yours will occur in the spaces you dwell, with the people you love, in the community God has placed you. I can't describe your well loved life - only you can dream it for yourself. I just want you to ask yourself that question. What would your life, your relationships look like if you believed you are loved? How would you flourish in this well loved life? How would you love if you believed you are loved?

Ask. Ponder. Dream.

And live as though you are loved … because you are.

You are loved.
You are cherished.
You are treasured.
You are valued.
You are adored.
You are loved.
You are.

God is a lovesick parent over you.
~Jen Hatmaker