Blue Christmas

It snowed! Yay!!!

I live in Winnipeg, Manitoba. Snow is our thing. We may not have winning sports teams or ocean views or swanky ski resorts but we have snow. That's our claim to fame. We are Winterpeg - except almost we weren't.

This year has been unseasonably warm. Like mow your lawn in December warm. That NEVER happens here but it did. It was halfway through December and we could still see grass! How depressing! How unWinnipegish of us!

I've not felt very Christmassy this year. I've just not been 'into' it. I blamed it on the lack of snow. I wasn't excited to decorate. I couldn't care less about Christmas baking. I felt blah about most of our traditions. In fact, I didn't even wear Christmas socks but once or twice. All of this I blamed on the warm weather and green grass. I blamed and I believed it to be true.

I thought that once it snowed proper I'd feel Christmas. Well, it snowed and I'm still in a funk. Like, seriously. Whatever, man. Christmas, you suck. We're breaking up.

I actually do feel bad for being so bah-humbug. I also felt very alone in my holiday grouchiness - and this made me feel worse about the whole thing - until I had a little chat with a friend yesterday. We were at our kids' Christmas concert rehearsal and she leaned over and whispered, "I feel bad even saying this but I'm so not into Christmas this year. I know Jesus should be enough to make me feel joyful but … "

I exhaled as if I'd been holding my breath for weeks because I kind of had been. I felt elated, sad and at home all at once. This dear, precious friend is walking out a tough journey in her life. She is moving through each challenge with grace, dignity and joy. Every day I am in awe of her. Every single day. And yet, here she is, not feeling the feeling and feeling bad for it.

"He is enough. And you are a human being with real deal stuff. You are joyful just not happy. And that's okay." I said those words as much to myself as I did to her because I suddenly realized they're true. It's not the snow that has me down. It's life. It's missing my dad. Missing my house. Missing my people. Missing who I was while I try to recognize who I am. It's feeling All the Feels that have piled up this year. It's being a grown up. It's missing and loneliness and heartache. It has little to do with snow and everything to do with being a human being with a human heart.

I left the practice feeling less alone but no more Christmassy. On the way home, Joyboy and I stopped at the store for a few things. As we hopped over snow banks he said, "I know you really like the snow but I think all this must be hard for people in wheelchairs. Y'know, like that really independent guy at church. Today must be hard for him to get around."

"I do like the snow but you're right.  I was also thinking about homeless people today. This weather is really hard on them, too."

"Sometimes it's hard to be happy at Christmas, isn't it?  Especially when you really think about all the stuff people have to live with," he sighed and squeezed my hand. And in that moment, it felt like Christmas. It felt like love and care and understanding and kindness. It felt like comfort. It felt like Jesus was near. In our sadness and concern for others, it finally felt a little like Christmas.

I never used to understand people who had a hard time at Christmas. I didn't get how the Magic of Christmas wasn't big enough for some people. But I get it now. I get how sometimes it takes more than a happy carol and a good snowfall to break through All the Stuff. I get how a joy-filled person can not be as happy and as excited as they once were. I get how Jesus is enough and yet All the Feels are still there. I get how peace can reign where heart ache still exists. I get it.

So, I'm a little blue this Christmas - and that's okay. I will still laugh and make memories. I will still celebrate and cherish. I will still participate in our traditions and love all the moments with those I love. I will keep Christmas despite all of the other stuff. And I will not feel bad about all the other stuff - because Jesus is in that, too.

I will feel All the Feels because He is feeling those Feels with me. He does not abandon me or cast me aside in my heavy-heartedness. He holds me tight. So tight that I can feel His heartbeat next to mine. So close that His breath fills my lungs. So gently that my broken heart finally feels safe. So securely that I rest, the deep, healing rest of one who is well loved. For I am well loved this blue Christmas … as are you, Dear One!

"I've never quite loving you and I never will!"
~God, Jeremiah 31:3 (The Message)

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

The Best Greeting

Happy Summer!

For those who know me well, you'll detect a bit of sarcasm in this greeting. I'm not a fan of summer. I don't like the heat, the bugs, the sun or the inevitable sunburn. I don't like going to the beach because it's sandy, it smells weird, its hot and there's too many people wearing too little fabric. Summer also means 73 (not that I'm counting) unscheduled, unstructured, uninterrupted days with The Wee Ones.

Oy!

It was in this moment of preparing for (dreading?) the start of summer when I heard my pastor say a few words about how the early church was encouraged to greet one another. This got me thinking about those I love to see and those who I love to be seen by. I have a few friends who greet me in a way that makes me feel like a superstar. Their whole face lights up. They wave like lunatics with grins that fill their whole faces. Their eyes light up and they rush in for The Big Hug. Just their greeting alone fills my heart with so much goodness that I can't even.

Then there's those people who greet me like I'm something unpleasant that they've just discovered on the bottom of their shoe. I always feel like I'm inconveniencing those people by just drawing breath near them. I, instinctively, want to apologize rather than greet them. They may wince a smile and limply shake my hand but their whole aura screams their disdain and discomfort. I walk away from those encounters feeling like the world's biggest dork. Clearly, I'd rather be greeted by the first group I described, wouldn't you?

These thoughts tangled with my dread of The 73 Uninterrupted Days of Summer and suddenly I was asking myself a very uncomfortable question. Who gets your best greeting? My mind was instantly filled with those who greet me well (of course), those who I love and respect (naturally), those who are lovely to be with (absolutely) … those who are popular (okay), powerful (umm ..) and important (ouch). Then I asked, how do I greet those I live with verses those from the outside world? Does Mr. Awesome get The Best Greeting? Do the Wee Ones?

These questions - and answers - became very uncomfortable, very quickly. I didn't like the answers. I didn't like what the answers revealed about who is really important to me and who I just think is important. I didn't like that the truth is I often waste my best greeting on people who don't know me, like me or really matter to me and those who I really do love the most get half-hearted, lame greetings. I didn't like any of it. I don't like it.

I know that a greeting sets the tone for the encounter that follows. I know that a greeting communicates value, affection and respect. I know that the right greeting invites relationship and trust. I know that The Best Greeting offers a safe place where you are loved and accepted. So, why then don't I put more into my greetings?

Giving The Best Greeting is a risk. Its laying all your cards on the table, it's streaking through a stadium, it's opening your heart - wide and bare - and waiting to see if your greeting will be accepted and reciprocated. Giving The Best Greeting is terrifying and yet so freeing. I don't know why our culture feels that it's best to play it cool. I don't know how we got to this place of envying the aloof and non-committal. I want to live All-In. I want my kids to live, and love, that way too.

And I think the an All-In Life begins with The Best Greeting.

I remember when The Wee Ones were wee and how they'd all sit on the back of the couch, staring out the window as they waited for Mr. Awesome's big yellow work truck to pull on to our street at the end of the day. Chaos would erupt as he backed into the driveway. The kids would be tripping over each other to be the first one at the door. Often, Mr. Awesome wouldn't even be able to open the door all the way because of all the little bodies in the entrance. Dude would grab Mr. Awesome around the neck in a bear hug, Crafty would hold on to Mr. Awesome's leg, nearly tripping him up as he stumbled through the door. And Joyboy would launch himself through the air, fully trusting that the already bombarded Mr. Awesome would catch him. It was all love and hugs and shouts and laughing. Everyday. It was The Best Greeting.

Truthfully, Mr. Awesome still gets The Best Greeting from the kids even though they are now teens and tweens. He receives The Best Greeting because he always, ALWAYS, gives The Best Greeting to his family. No matter what his day has been, he enters our home with a smile on his face and his arms open to give and receive the love and comfort of his family. Mr. Awesome gives The Best Greeting to everyone. I seriously can't think of one encounter where he hasn't given a hug or firm handshake, where he hasn't smiled and said, 'nice to see you' and genuinely meant it. He never misses a chance to love well, to welcome, to make a friend. And I'm learning.

Mother Teresa once said, "It would be a shame if when we meet people all they get is us." She was talking about the need people have to know God and how our every encounter with people is an opportunity for them to know God a little better. How can I communicate God's infinite love if I can't even greet someone with joy and dignity? How can I love like Jesus f I can't even risk an enthusiastic hello? How will my kids know the unfailing love of God if their mom fails to welcome them home with affection?

Here's the thing, I don't think that The Best Greeting will cure the ails of the world but it's a good (and easy) place to start. It opens the door to friendship and understanding. It sets the tone of your home and your heart. It forces you to look outward. It makes you focus on others more than you focus on yourself. And giving The Best Greeting is like throwing a boomerang - it inevitably comes back to you.

Begin each day grateful, loving and passionate, spread love to all you encounter and greet them with a smile, the power of love and happiness is contagious so share more smiles, laughter, encouragement and joy to those around you.
~Rashida Rowe

The Things I Know

So, I'm in a time of transition … blah, blah, blah. I'm tired of talking about it (and writing about it) which means you are probably WELL past being tired of hearing about it. I've been a little doom and gloom and mournful over all of this loss and change - which, to a certain extent, in normal. But in the midst of all of the good-byes, I've kind of lost sight of who I am and what is important to me.

I am still a writer. I write everyday. Sometimes its a few words about the end of Friday Night Lights via Netflix (every time I watch that series on Netflix I mourn the final episode like it's the first time) on Twitter. Other times its a note in my kids' lunchbox or a text to a friend who comes to mind. But most days I journal as I read the Bible and sometimes I share those tidbits on Instagram or Facebook. And I am still plugging away on my next book. Writing is important to me. It keeps my mind sharp and curious.  It feeds my soul and awakens my heart.

I am still a wife and a mom. Mr. Awesome rocks my world. I love his humour, his heart for justice and his focus on family. He is my best friend and a gift in more ways than I can say. I get to be his partner and helpmate, as he is mine. Together we get to lead this ragtag band of hooligans known as The Forbes Five. We get to dream, laugh, teach, play and live together. How awesome is that?!

I am still a church-girl. I love church. I love all the crazy, messy, lovely people who gather each week to learn more and love better. I love that I am accepted, that I am one of the crazy, messy lovely people. I love that church gives me lots of opportunity to learn and practice grace, to serve others and to take huge heart risks. I love that I don't have to be perfect to show up. I love that church is family.

I still love people.  People are the most amazing, resilient, bizarre creatures on the planet. I love how every person has a story to tell, that we can learn from each other. I am intrigued by what makes others tick, what awakens their deepest heart dreams and what disappointments they have weathered. I love connecting with folks and hearing their crazy because I have some crazy, too. I love that every soul as a secret place of gentleness and a deep place of untapped possibilities. I love that we are all so unique yet crave sameness in each other. I love that you can know someone for your whole life and still they are a mystery - a beautiful, familiar mystery.

I am a Jesus-girl. I am found. I am free. I am chosen. Some of you readers don't get this, and that's cool, but in this relationship with Jesus I found the deepest sense of peace, belonging and purpose. I know thatHe loves me unconditionally and I trust Him with my everything. Life bites sometimes but I am never, ever alone. I can feel the comfort and strength of Jesus near me even in my darkest times. It is His hope that keeps me moving forward in the midst of loss and heart ache. It is also His joy that swirls around me like a force of nature and causes me to laugh into the stormy winds of life. I am just Jesus' type of girl.

I feel life our life has been tossed up in the air and now we are stuck in a Matrix moment where everything is suspended and we aren't quite sure where everything will land. And although that freaks me out a bit, I know that my feet are firmly placed in my trust in Jesus, I am surrounded by people who love and are willing to be loved, my heart is full of my family and I have words, lots and lots of words, to share.

If we all did the things we are capable of doing, we would literally astound ourselves.
 — Thomas Alva Edison

Uniquely Beautiful Together

My mom has several awards of recognition from her professional life. They are these hand blown glass tear-drop things. And she has four. To look at them as individuals they all look the same. Clear, pear-shaped with little air bubbles trapped in their core. But when you line them up, side by side, you can see the inconsistencies.

One is tall and almost a perfect tear-drop but it has more air bubbles than the shorter one beside it that leans slightly. The shortest one is bottom heavy but has the most interesting shaped air bubble right at its core and the fourth one is a perfect cross section of the other three but with three bubbles stacked neatly on top of each other. Individually they all looked the same but lined up together you can see the unique beauty in each of these ornaments.

We are just like these wee drops of glass.

A couple of weeks ago, I stepped out on a limb and applied to be part of my 'friend' Jen Hatmaker's launch team. She has a new book coming out in August (For the Love) and she invited her blog followers to apply to be one of 500 lucky gals who would receive an advance copy of her new book so that they might use their social media presence to promote the pants of her book. I, sadly, was not chosen … and neither were 4500 other Lovelies.

It was disappointing but not earth shatteringly so. I received my consolation prize of four (FABULOUS) sample chapters and was prepared to move on. But then this thing happened. The Unchosen took to twitter and began tweeting with the hashtag #The4500. And then they created a Facebook group. And then more than 400 of the 4500 joined the group. And then we got to know one another. We shared snippets of our own life stories, we shared blogs, we shared our love for Jen. It was awesome!

And then something wanky started to happen. We were all their, beautiful in our own individuality, yet now lined up side by side. The comparison thing started to happen. A few Lovelies felt 'less than' for not being chosen as one of the 500, a few felt "not a funny" as others … not as popular, not as experienced, not as deep. Some felt messy, chaotic and undeserving. Others elevated Jen to an impossible-to-maintain position of greatness (don't get me wrong, love me some Jen Hatmaker but she IS just a regular gal after all).While there was much love in this wee band of Jen fans there was also a lot of insecurity beginning to surface. And just when I was feeling uncomfortable and contemplating stepping out of the group our gal-pal, Jen stepped in.

A couple of days ago Jen popped into the group and tok in some of the threads. Like I said, much of what is one this page is funny, kind, uplifting and community building but there were also some very disappointed folks (me included, I may or may not have consumed more Jolly Ranchers than necessary following the Unchosen email) who were questioning their worth. This is what Jen had to say …

"Morning, friends! We are almost at the 400 member mark! All the feels.

You know what? Let me tell you what you are NOT: You are not the "B Team" or "Junior Varsity" or "the rejects." And you don't have to declare that "you will be heard." You already ARE heard! You are already amazing in your place. Your influence is as strong and powerful as it ever was.

The whole message of For the Love says there is not a better than or less than in our community. WE ARE ALL IN. Honestly? For me, there is really no "launch team" and "the rest of us." We are all on the same team. We really are. We are ALL for grace and community and courage and love. We are all reading parts or all of the book in advance. We are all IN THIS TOGETHER. This is not a tribe of scarcity. There is enough to go around, and every last one of us is ENOUGH.

So no more B Team talk. You are my A TEAM. I adore you! I adore this sweet community forming! I am so grateful for every encouraging, kind, funny thing you have said to me and each other. What a joy you are! Let's stand up together and take our place...love you, sisters!"

And this is why I love her! This is the message of her heart … and it is the message of mine as well.

We have been designed as individuals and the purpose in coming together is not to point out our flaws or short comings but to highlight how uniquely beautiful we each are. Alone we may appear 'just like everyone else' but it's in Together that we see how our individuality compliments the uniqueness in others. We are in this together … we are in Together. Together.

Uniquely beautiful together!

Let’s just say amongst ourselves that we will silence the bossy, mean voice telling us to BE MORE AWESOME and instead we will obey the other nudges, the ones that lead us to love and life and peace and generosity and God and people and rest and gratitude.

~Jen Hatmaker

Empty Spaces

So we've moved … sort of.

We are back in our hometown - at least our bodies and our clothes are. Everything else is still in our house an hour and a half away. We have loose ends all over the place that makes it tough to be settled but we are trying our best. We are awkwardly stumbling through our new routine and making a niche, each of us where we are. In truth, some of us are having an easier time of this than others.

The kids, so far, have hit the ground running. They love their new school. They have each made friends, have joined a variety of extra-curriculars (yes, I am literally living in my van these days!) and are genuinely happy to be here.

Mr. Awesome loves his new job but this new job won't be his for much longer. Last week he was offered a promotion that will take him away from some of the most dangerous parts of his job (yay!) and into the office most of the time. He starts his training in a couple of weeks and he couldn't be happier.

I, on the other hand, have absolutely no plans, no routine and no sense of what I am doing here. I had taken a term position with a not-for-profit but that didn't work out. The job description changed drastically after I started and became something that I didn't enjoy and didn't really have the skill set for. It was disappointing but the director and I parted as friends and I still whole heartedly believe in what they are doing as a foundation. So, that being said, I am here … with nothing to do.

That's not entirely true. I have laundry and bathroom cleaning and kid driving and meal making and coffee drinking but I have no occupation. I have an empty space where my job used to be. I miss writing curriculum, planning object lessons and meeting with my team. I miss teaching my Buddies on Sunday morning and high-fiving my volunteers as the last kidlet walked out the door. I miss that life. I miss having no empty spaces, no moments to spare. I miss the feeling of a full life.

Last Thursday, as I was laundering and coffeing I was also praying, reading my Bible and listening to podcasts. I was looking for answers for The Big Question: What's next? I hadn't been sleeping well and frankly, I was not very pleasant to live with. The not-for-profit job was not going well and I knew I'd have to have a chat with the director soon. I was also having trouble finding my rhythm with the new book I was working on. The outline and concept had come so easily but I had completely stalled out. I was stalled and panicking. And cranky.

This is where I was when I decided to lock myself away in my room, fold mountains of laundry and listen to some Sisterhood podcasts. As I folded and prayed and listened I realized that I was afraid. I was afraid of not having a job description, a title and a purpose. I was afraid that I had thrown away my one chance of being relevant. And then I realized I was being a ridiculous control freak.

The message I teach more than any other is that God sees us, knows us and loves us. His thoughts are always towards us therefore we will never be forgotten. I teach this, I write about this (see my previous blog post) and I do believe this. It's just that I am human and prone to dramatic over reactions in times of uncertainty. I sometimes forget the very truth that God has engraved on my heart. He created me, he chose me for a life with Him and He calls me His very own. He's got this.

So as I stood in my bedroom, folding clothes and weeping, I prayed the prayer that is my mantra, "Lord, make me uncomfortable. Keep me from settling for a life less than your best. Not my will but yours - however that looks." It's a scary prayer, its a humbling prayer and its a prayer of surrender. It's the prayer that reminds me that I'm not in control and, in fact, it's better this way.

I have a lot of empty spaces in my life right now. A lot of holes where busyness and purpose used to fill. Where commitments and obligations fought for top spot. These empty spaces aren't really empty, though. God has reserved them for The Next Thing. He is readying these spaces, and my heart, for whatever comes next and in the mean time I have to remind myself to surrender and to allow God to fill these empty spaces in His way and in His time. I have inklings of what this might be but The How and The When are complete mysteries … and I am choosing, moment by moment, to be okay with that.

But for now and for always I pray ...

Lord, make me uncomfortable.
Keep me from settling for a life less than Your best.
Not my will but yours - however that looks.
Thanks for loving me always.
You are so very good.

Amen.

Pray prayers that scare what's scared inside you.
~Lisa Bevere

The Choice and What I Know to Be True

This morning my cousin posted this picture of me and her mom on Facebook.

This is one of my all time very favourite pictures of myself. I was three years old, on a motorcycle, at my grandma's house, being held by one of the kindest people I knew - what could be better! I was perfectly blissful!

Fast forward 35 years and life is not always so blissful. I'm not three years old therefore sailor suits are no longer a viable fashion choice for me. My uncles are now all too old - I mean, mature - to ride motorcycles. My grandma passed away several years ago and with her she took her strong but soft hugs, the patented smell of dough rising in the morning that permeated her home and her top secret recipe for the perfect perogy. But I still have a life full of kind people who are willing to hold me when life gets rough.

I like to think that I like change, that I can go with the flow, that I am easily adaptable but that's just SO not true. I can adapt but its never easy or comfortable and the only time I go with the flow is when I become to exhausted to fight the current. I hate change. It makes me uncomfortable. I'm a control freak and I like knowing what comes next but that's not always possible. In fact, most times of change require you to jump into the abyss without knowing exactly where you will land.

Mr. Awesome and I are packing up our Wee Band of Renegades and returning to our home town. We've thought about this a lot and over the past year it has become clear to us that it is time to return. But let's be clear, we are returning to a familiar place but we are not going back to where we were.

So much has changed in our life during the nearly five years we have lived in this Wee Manitoba Town (oops, its a city now!). For those of you who have followed our journey, you know the trials, heart ache, difficulties and challenges we have faced. You also know the joy we have known. You know the victories, the friendships, the random hilarity we've experienced. You, Faithful Reader, know the change, the complete transformation of heart and mind, This Random Mother has undergone. You know that I am not now who I was then. I'm not. And I can't go back. I don't want to go back.

When we first made the decision to return to our hometown I went into Utter Internal Panic Mode. I was terrified that I would automatically go back to the life I had and the person I was five years ago - and I don't particular care to do that. To be honest, I stayed internally panicked for weeks until I had an epiphany; I don't have to be anyone but who I CHOOSE to be.

Now, that's no real great epiphany really but it did remind me of something I heard a wonderful author and speaker say at a conference last fall. I had the privilege of hearing Kay Warren speak about her journey as a mom of a son who committed suicide and how she could still choose joy in the midst of the most heart wrenching circumstances. She said that this decision to choose joy is made easier when you remind yourself of what you know to be true, what you knew before life broke your heart and shook your foundation. In my notes from this session I wrote, God is Faithful. He sees me. He knows me. He loves me.

That's what I know.

I know that God is faithful. Even when I can't see or understand what is coming next, He is faithful. Even when life doesn't make sense and my heart is breaking, He is faithful. Even when I can't seem to think clearly enough to make a sound decision, He is faithful. Even when the change before me is terrifying and so unknown, He is faithful.

I know that God sees me. I am not invisible. I am not insignificant. I am not expendable. My heart's desires are not trivial. I am not replaceable. I matter. He sees me.

I know that God knows me. He created me. He intricately formed me with all the gifts, talents and sense of purpose I need to do what He created me to do. He knows my strengths, my weaknesses, my insecurities and my dreams. He knows me.

I know that God loves me. I am precious to Him. I am in His thoughts, my name is inscribed on His hand, He is always watching out for me. His love for me never runs out, never gives up and is never selfish. He loves me.

This is what I know. I know that change is scary but God is faithful. I know that people judge by what they see on the outside but God sees right into my heart. I know that because He sees right into my heart, He knows everything little thing about me. And even though He knows every little thing He still loves me. Deeply, Endlessly, Unfailingly. God is Faithful.

So, what I know reminds me that even in the midst of Big Scary Change I can still choose joy. In the midst of heart ache and uncertainty, I can still choose joy. In the face of All That is Unknown, I can still choose joy because God is faithful. He sees me. He knows me. He loves me.

God is faithful.

Joy is the settled assurance that God is in control of all the details of my life; the quiet confidence that ultimately everything is going to be all right; and the determined choice to praise God in all things.
~Kay Warren

A God Moment, Undeserved

On Tuesday mornings I lead a short devotional at the middle school my kids attend. A couple of weeks ago I was having a rough morning and I was seriously thinking of skipping it. I had a horrible sleep the night before that resulted in a good-morning pounding headache and the kids were exceptionally morning resistant that day. As I fumbled through my morning routine I very familiar scripture verse came to mind and I knew I had to fulfill my commitment to the kids at the school so I dragged myself to the school. I was being obedient, just not enthusiastically so.

When I arrived at the school, my own kids were the only ones in the library waiting for devos to start. I knew it. Nice weather and all the little dudes are out playing soccer instead of coming inside early for devotions. I was irritated at the big time-suck that morning was turning into but I waiting. I stood in the room, watched the clock and thought of my bed and a nice, tall cup of The Precious. Just as I was about to send my kids outside and head for home, the doors opened and within a minute the room was full. Nearly 50 kids! I shared Isaiah 40:28-31 with the kids …

27 28 

Do you not know?

    Have you not heard?

The Lord is the everlasting God,

    the Creator of the ends of the earth.

He will not grow tired or weary,

    and his understanding no one can fathom.

29 

He gives strength to the weary

    and increases the power of the weak.

30 

Even youths grow tired and weary,

    and young men stumble and fall;

31 

but those who hope in the Lord

    will renew their strength.

They will soar on wings like eagles;

    they will run and not grow weary,

    they will walk and not be faint.

We spent a few minutes talking about how our strength is not compared to a hummingbird, who has to flap its wings constantly and quickly  to sustain flight, but to an eagle who has to relax and trust the wind to carry it, to help it to soar. When I was done talking I prayed for the kids and sent them off to their classes.

As I was leaving the school, glad that I had followed through with my commitment, I ran into one of my Buddies from Kids' Church. He was waiting outside the school for his grandma to pick him up because he wasn't feeling well. This little dude had lost his father a couple of months ago and although I had thought of him often and prayed for his family I hadn't had the opportunity to connect with him. I asked him if he wanted company while he waited and he said sure. We sat in the sunshine, talking of vacations, sports and favourite things to do in the summer. When his grandma arrived he said good-bye and hopped into the car.

I sat there for a few moments. Humbled and grateful. And sure that I received far more from my encounters of the morning than I had given. Despite my stubborn self-focused ways, God still manoeuvred the morning and gave me the opportunity to encounter Him in the conversations I had with  all of those buddies that morning. In the large group I was reminded that my strength is never enough but my willingness is a good starting point and in that one to one conversation I realized that God often uses the ordinary, everyday moments to remind us that He sees us and loves us.

Kindness doesn't cost anything more than time .. just be willing to give that much.

And I will, too!

If there is any kindness I can show, or any good thing I can do to any fellow being, let me do it now, and not deter or neglect it, as I shall not pass this way again. 
~ William Penn

38 Complete

Today I completed my 38th year of life.

I'm pretty stoked about that because I'm not always great at finishing things. I've written before about how I am easily inspired and often start a project with grand ideas. But usually by the halfway point, right around the time when things become more like work and less like fun, my enthusiasm fizzles and I bail, leaving projects either incomplete or hastily thrown together. Because of this chronic lack of follow through I tend to be very hard on myself. My inner dialogue regarding this less than desirable character trait is pretty harsh and ugly, but last night I stopped the conversation.

Last night, as I started drifting off to sleep with the list of all my unfinished work swirling around my brain, I had an epiphany. 38 times I've started a year and 38 times I've finished the year. I have started and finished 38 years, that's 1,976 weeks. 13, 832 days. That might not seem like much to be proud of at first thought but it is.

38 times I have looked a new year in the face and agreed to give it a go. 38 times I have journeyed through the year ... sometimes with smooth sailing, sometimes slogging it uphill the whole way. 38 times I have survived and thrived in whatever the year threw at me and 38 times I finished with a thankful heart.

Life is hard and messy and lovely and exhausting and wonderful and overwhelming. Life is a gift that's almost too much to bear sometimes. Unexpected things happen. Disappointments. Disease. Accidents. Heartbreak. Exhaustion. Depression. Ugliness creeps in and whispers to you to just give up, to call it quits, to allow the darkness to overtake you. But there is another voice. There is the voice of light and life and joy. The voice that reminds you that after every darkness there is light, that finishing is the best way to beat the Ugliness.

I'm proud of myself for finishing 38 years. I'm proud of my stretch marks, scars, laugh lines and extra pounds. I'm proud of the lessons I've learned during this life that I've lived. I'm proud that I know more now that I did ten years ago, that I love myself better and certainly love others better than I did then. I am proud that no matter what life has thrown at me I have stuck to it, I have stayed the course. I am proud to have crossed the finish line 38 times.

The thing is, life isn't a sprint. It's that long race on the oval track (I know, very sporty of me to know the technical jargon), the one where you pass the finish line easily at first but that doesn't mean you're done because there are many more laps. You keep running past the finish line, counting off another lap successfully completed as you continue the race. The finish line becomes less of an end point and more of a marker to how far you've come. Each time you pass it, each time you start a new lap, you sign up for more of whatever the race has for you.


If you're reading this give yourself a pat on the back because you've finished every year that you've started, too. You've not given up. You've kept on moving forward despite hardships, despite difficulties and despite whether you've felt like it or not. You've stepped into each new year, willing to give it another go, whatever may come your way. You are on the track, ticking off laps, too. Yay for you!

And, yay for me, too! 38 laps finished ... many more to go!

Here's to more love, more friends, more growth, more wisdom, more challenges, more victories, more joy, more peace, more compassion and many, many more finishes!

“Ends are not bad things, they just mean that something else is about to begin. And there are many things that don't really end, anyway, they just begin again in a new way. Ends are not bad and many ends aren't really an ending; some things are never-ending.” 
― C. JoyBell C.

Boomerang Love

So, last night it started.

At about 10pm my Facebook feed was flooded by lonely and disappointed people. It wasn't even Valentine's Day yet but scads of people were already anticipating how lonely and lost they were going to feel today. Most of the people cyber-sighing about their aloneness aren't hermits, living in their mother's basements. They are intelligent, loving and caring people who don't have that one person who thinks the sun rises and sets for them ... they have dozens of people who are thankful for the love and relationship they bring into the world.

After reading about a dozen different statuses full of lamenting and disappointment I posted this.

I tried to be as nice as I could but in truth, I was pretty frustrated. I couldn't believe so many people were so willing to overlook the love they have in their life because of the love they don't have. They were so focused on their own sense of loss that they couldn't see how their love, the love they give, is filling a hole in someone else's life. They were missing the point, love is not about how much you get, but how much you give.

The most satisfied and fulfilled I've ever felt in my life are the times when I have reached beyond myself to love someone else. I didn't wait until I felt loved and appreciated to give love. I just acted without thinking of myself and every time, without fail, I have received love in return. When I have set aside my own needs, wants and comfort and offered love and affection to someone else I have been rewarded with the same ... in spades!

A while back I was talking to a friend about the importance of leading through encouragement. She said it is impossible to give what you've never received but I don't buy that. I see examples of people giving generously from where they've never received all the time.

My Dad never knew his father therefore he has never known the protection, guidance and love of a dad yet he has always given those things freely, generously and constantly my whole life. I have a friend who was an only child, never knowing the love, companionship and mentorship of being a brother yet every week he is a Big Brother. He gives his time, wisdom and brotherly love without restraint. I know a lady who was an orphan. She never had a family of her own, never married, never had children yet she is mother and grandmother to many in her church and community. She pours out family love to everyone who has the privilege of knowing her. These people, and dozens more, prove to me that you don't have to get in order to give. And that most often you get once you've given.

Today, I challenge you to give love. Think of someone who you can love on with a note, a treat or a cup of coffee. Focus on giving love and not on getting and I promise you, you'll get exactly what you've been looking for because love is a boomerang. Once you toss it out there, it doesn't take long before it comes back to you at full force!

Love beyond yourself. Love. Love. Love.

The love we give away is the only love we keep.
~Elbert Hubbard

Healing

If there is one thing I should be an expert in but really know nothing about it's healing. A little over two years ago my body was torn apart in ways I would have never imagined possible and yet today I am whole. Cancer had infiltrated my body and the first step to health was cutting me open and removing the tumour. The cutting took about four hours. The healing took much longer.

In the days after my surgery I wondered how I would ever be whole again. I wondered if I would ever be able to laugh and play and run (okay, who are we kidding? I've never run ... not ever ... and I doubt I'll ever run. Not even if I'm chased by an axe murderer!) again. I couldn't see how I'd be able to move through my life like I did before. I thought I was too hurt, that I'd be too scarred, to every fully live again. I settled in my mind that things would never be the same and I'd have to adjust to and accept a new normal.

I was so right and so wrong all at the same time.

I did heal. Little by little, day by day, my wound closed. Stitches and staples were removed. Scabs came and went. It was painful, then itchy, then irritating for a while. The wound went from angry red to a light pink and healed into a fine pale line. When I touch the scar I can feel that it's there and sometimes when I move a certain way I can feel the tightness and pulling of the healed tissue but for the most part I am healed. So much so that I rarely think about the surgery and the pain any more.

So if I have experienced such a profound healing then how can I know nothing about it?

Healing is a mystery. It happens in secret and by measures. It happens slowly when you focus on it and rapidly when you don't. Healing takes time - longer if you constantly pick at the scab and poke at the wound. Healing is most successful when the wound is cared for and then left to mend on its own.

If I know this about my body then why did it take me so long to apply this to my heart?

A little over one year ago, an adult in our world betrayed our trust and manipulated one of our children.  He used his influence to undermine and confuse our child. He inserted himself into our lives and twisted our values and contradicted our instruction to our child. When we confronted him and informed him that we no longer wanted him to have contact with our child he reacted in a way we never would have expected, causing further damage to our child and our family.

We were all devastated. We were shaken to the core. We were damaged. We were wounded.

At the time that this all came to a head I thought there was no way back from this. I thought this man had forever changed our family dynamic. I thought he had ruined who we were trying to be, as a family. I was overwhelmed, depressed and heart broken. I thought I was going to feel that way forever.

We sought help from councillors, pastors, doctors and legal professionals. We patched ourselves up and tried to move on but it felt like someone was always poking at the wound. We couldn't get away from this man - by product of living in a small community - so just seeing him would set me, Mr. Awesome or our affected child off. Running into this man on the street or in the school or in the community would send us into a tailspin. Us ... me.

Mr. Awesome and even the Affected Child seemed to heal faster. They were able to leave the bandage in place, to let the mending begin. Me? No so much. I struggled with rage, hurt and disappointment for months. I wanted justice. I wanted ... I wanted ... ack ... I don't know what I wanted but I wanted it so bad that I was consumed by it.

Gradually I realized that I had to live. I had to re-engage with my world and not return to the moment of hurt every time I saw this man. So I did. I lived. I became good at masking my homicidal rage whenever I saw him or had to talk about what happened. I sounded reasonable, for the most part but I knew I had not healed. I knew that I had let the wound become infected with hate.

About a month ago, another parent who had had a similar experience with this same man spoke to me about how devastated she was still, how she was still so angry and hurt. As I stood there talking with her, trying to offer words of comfort I realized that I was in exactly the same place she was. The words I was saying to her were exactly the words I needed to apply to my own wound.

Over the next few days I thought about that conversation, I thought about my own feelings of anger and hate. I cried. I prayed. I waited in silence. I offered all my hate and brokenness and disappointed to God. And He took it.  In essence, I removed the rotten bandage from the wound and allowed it to be cleaned and properly mended. I stopped picking at the scar.

I'm not 'over' what happened to our family but I am allowing healing to happen. I still don't like or trust this man but I have stopped revisiting me hurt every time I encounter him. My scar is scabbing over. Soon it will be just a faded line in our memory where a little tightness and discomfort exists but it won't hurt anymore.

It won't hurt. It will be healed.

God can heal a broken heart, but He has to have all the pieces.
~Author Unknown

The Business of Unbusying Myself

A few days ago I read a blog by Tyler Ward that has stuck with me, gnawing at the edges of my mind as I've waded back into the chaos of post-holiday life. I don't know who Tyler Ward is but his thoughts on busyness resonate with me, so much so that I feel compelled to add my two cents to this conversation.

Although I've done this myself, more than I'd like to admit, I have long felt that answering the standard, "How are you?" greeting with a trite "busy" was a self-important cop-out to avoid engaging in a real conversation. It effectively shuts down any real hope of conversation and reduces the exchange into a comparison of who has the busier life. When the greeter and greeted both complete their lists of busyness, there is usually a moment of uncomfortable silence before they awkwardly bow out of the interaction and return to their busy lives. Often times, in the midst of the busyness there is an overwhelming sense of loneliness because to-do lists have replaced togetherness.

After reading Mr. Ward's blog and then looking at the mountain of emails, projects and to-do lists waiting for me on my desk I had to ask myself is being busy is all that it's cracked up to be?

The short answer?

No.

And we all know it. We all know, deep down, that busyness is no where near as fulfilling as friendship, community and purpose. The day to day tasks that overwhelm us and numb us to the simple pleasure of being are a shadow compared to the joy and satisfaction that comes with living an authentic, meaningful life. But how do we find meaning? How do we know where to put our energy to find fulfillment instead of mere busyness?

Look at your life. What are the five things you give the bulk of your time to? Be honest and don't cop out by saying 'family' or 'work'. Be specific. Do you run a lot of errands? Do you watch a lot of TV? Do you work a lot of extra hours? Are you a dedicated kid chauffeur?

Make your list and then think about it. Really THINK.

A while back I saw this little graphic on Pinterest that was meant to apply to the words we speak but as I looked at it again I felt that it could also be applied to how we spend our time. So, look at your list and ask yourself ...

Is it TRUE to who I am? Does this item reflect my values and character?
Is it HELPFUL to me and those around me? Am I really adding to the solution or am I just keeping busy to feel that I have value in this situation?
Is it INSPIRING me to do more, to be more or is it exhausting me? Am I energized or drained by this activity?
Is it NECESSARY? Is this a task that must be done or is it a time suck that is stealing you away from something more vital and productive?
Is it KIND to you? Does this bring life, rest, inspiration or relaxation to you? Is this something that adds to your life and sense of worth or does it detract from you?

If you answered 'no' to any of these questions in relation to your list ask yourself whether the list is the problem or your attitude toward it.I'll bet you that you can already see where changes can be made, where you can trim some busyness and add something that is True, Helpful, Inspiring, Necessary and Kind to your day to day life.

Think, start small, be consistent and, above all, put relational ships above busyness - you won't be sorry!

Beware of the barrenness of a busy life.
~Socrates

Three Stars and A Wish

Welcome to 2014!

Last night, as I rang in the New Year, book in hand and a sleeping Mr. Awesome by my side, I thought about 2013 and all it brought our way. I'm sure the blogosphere is full of 'Year in Review' posts today so I'm not going to bore you with a rambling monologue about my year as a whole but I am going to steal an idea from Mischief's elementary school.

At the end of each term, when I sit down for the Parent/Teacher meeting, I am handed a piece of paper that says "Three Stars and a Wish." While I wait for my turn to speak with the teacher I am meant to write down three things I think Mischief did well this term and one thing I'd like him to work on next term. I like how this gives us the opportunity to celebrate the triumphs and name our future victory and so, in this, the first post of the new year, I offer you my Three Stars and a Wish.

Star 1 - I wrote a book this year! Although I have yet to figure out how and when I will publish it, it is written. I wrote, edited and rewrote and polished to completion. I finished what I started and I wrote a book.

Star 2 - I am working at my dream job only it is a dream I never knew I had. In September I became the Children's Pastor at my church. The journey was long, winding and, at times, frustrating but through the past two years I have learned volumes about God's faithfulness and the benefits of resting in Him. Relaxing into God's plan, and more importantly, His timing has brought greater joy, fulfillment and peace than I ever thought possible.

Star 3 - Each night when I tuck my kids in and again each morning as I drive them to school I pray for them. Part of each prayer includes this sentence, "Lord, help them to be good friends so that they may attract good friends to them and may the law of kindness ever be on their tongues." All five of us in This Random Family have seen and felt this prayer come to being. This has become the year of friendship. We have each learned, in our own way, what being a good friend is and how that brings good friends to us. We also continue to focus on living a life infused with kindness. And because we are flawed beings, we are learning the value of grace as well. Friendship, Kindness and Grace have been the greatest gifts we have received this year, by far!

My Wish - My wish for this coming year is to be fearless in the face of adventure. I want to embrace life, to live each moment, to take risks. I want to stop disqualifying myself before the moment has even begun. I only have this one life and if I succumb to fear instead of boldly embracing opportunity then what's the point of living? My wish is to live!

Courage is being scared but saddling up anyway!
~John Wayne

Yes, Everyone CAN be Mother Teresa

In the spring I was sitting in a meeting with about a dozen other people from my community. We were having a discussion about adult involvement in children's extracurricular activities. During the course of the conversation I made the point that it takes very little effort to positively impact a child. I used the example of our decision to make our home as open and welcoming as possible to our kids' friends and how this practice has lead to many great conversations with our kids' friends about social issues and personal responsibility. Most people at the meeting just nodded but one person, who I know well and work with often on community issues, said, "Well, we can't all be Mother Teresa."

In the moment I just shrugged off this snarky reply as it was very out of character for him but, clearly, his words have stuck with me. I've thought about them often over the last couple of months. I've questioned whether I expect too much from people. I've wondered if I am too Pollyanna-ish in my views of what is possible. I've pondered whether my enthusiasm for the things I care about actually turns people off from being part of the solution. I've questioned, wondered and pondered but I've come up with no clear answers.

The last several weeks have been full of moments that lead to opportunities of personal growth ... that's a nice way of saying I've been stretched to my breaking point more than once but I've made it through alive and a little smarter than I was before. Anyway, in the midst of all this stretching and growing I've thought a lot about who I am and who I want to be. I've taken a good hard look at the things I give my energy to and whether my actions back up my words. I've also started working again, which has only fuelled my passion and sharpened my focus.

So, it was with some new life lessons under my belt and a better sense of the direction of my life that I thought about that Mother Teresa comment again and I finally have formulated a comeback.

"Yes, in fact, we can all be Mother Teresa."

Mother Teresa didn't set out to make a name for herself, to start a movement or to even help thousands of people. She set out to bring comfort to one person, dignity to one life and peace to one soul. That's it. She only ever sought to be useful where she was with whatever tools were at her disposal. She wanted the people in front of her to know they were seen and valued. She wanted her one life to make a difference in the life of just one other person. And when she had done all she could for that one person she moved on to help the next person and the next. She changed her world one life at a time.

A couple of weeks ago I had the privilege of meeting an author and speaker whom I greatly respect. She was lovely and encouraging in the few moments I had with her and just before I walked away she wrote a message on my notebook. I quickly glanced at it, thanked her and walked away. It wasn't until a few days later that I really read it and the difference between what I thought it said and what it really said set me free to just be who I am, where I am.

I thought she had written Change the world! but she had actually written Change your world!

I may not be able to change the world but I know I can change my world. I may not be able to solve global poverty, to feed millions of starving children or provide clean water for the nations but I can give generously to the causes that speak to my heart, I can donate food to my local food bank and I can collect change to donate to the well project my kids' school in participating in. I may not be able to cure diseases and comfort the dying but I can be the best friend, mother, community member and pastor that I can be. I communicate love and peace and hope and joy through a thousand small decisions everyday. I can see the people right in front of me and let them know they are valued.

I can be Mother Teresa. Here. Right where I am.

And so can you.

If you can't feed a hundred people, then feed just one.
~Mother Teresa

Back at 'Er

I sat down yesterday to blog and realized that I've forgotten how. After a four and a half month blogging sabbatical I've lost my groove. There are things I want to say, funny little stories I want to share and deep stirrings of my heart that I want to express but I can't seem to get going.

I had actually planned on returning to the blogoshpere  weeks ago but life and my own neurosis got in the way. I used the excuse of end of summer, back to school, back to work busyness to cover for my fear of the keyboard. I was afraid that once I sat down to write here again I'd discover that whatever magic, whatever connection we had - blogger and reader - would be gone, faded away from lack of attention and care. I didn't want to discover that my moment had passed so I hid behind the excuse of everyday mom life stuff. I hid from the very thing I wanted most, I hid from what I love because I was afraid it wouldn't love me back.

Then I asked myself, "Does it matter? Does it matter if no one reads your blog ever again? Does that change who you are? Does it diminish your worth as a human being?"

"Um, I guess not."

No. It doesn't. Part of being a grown up person is understanding that your self worth isn't tied to what you can do and who and how many people notice what you can do. Your self worth comes from inside of you. It comes from understanding that you, alone, as you are, are a magnificent being. That your loving heart is beautiful. Your quirks and goofiness are charming. Your generosity is breathtaking and your presence in the world is irreplaceable.

As I step back into this blogging thing that I love, may I encourage you to rediscover the thing that brings you joy. Embrace that gift, talent or hobby that makes your heart sing even if nobody notices. Especially if nobody notices. Live your passion for your own soul's sake, not for praise, adulation and recognition because applause fades but contentment in your own worth never does.

“We cannot think of being acceptable to others until we have first proven acceptable to ourselves.” 
― Malcolm X

We Stand to Honour

This morning I was in Dude and Crafty's school when the national anthem was played. I was standing in a hallway with half a dozen grade five boys who decided chatting and dancing through the anthem was appropriate. In the split second it took for me to decide how I, the adult on the scene, was going to address this I had a flashback of the day my own Enlightening occurred and what an impact it made on me.

I was in the ninth grade and it was early in the year. I was still trying to decide what I thought of my very tall, kind of hairy, basketball obsessed homeroom teacher, Mr. Kennedy. He wore ties with ducks on them and had a poster of Larry Bird above his desk. He also had this weird thing with Canada; he called it patriotism.  It all seemed a little sketchy to me.

Like I said, I was in the ninth grade, 14 years old and stubborn as all get out. I had recently injured my knee and truth be told, I was totally milking it. And he knew it but it wasn't until the morning I refused to stand at attention for 'O Canada' that he called me on my attitude and schooled me on showing proper respect.

I stood for the anthem but leaned on my chair. Apparently I wasn't the only slacker that morning. After the anthem was finished, Mr. Kennedy informed our class that we would stand for an additional five minutes and we would stand at attention. No leaning. No slouching. At the end of the five minutes he informed us that we had earned our disrespectful selves another five minutes at attention because of the chatter, sighing and leaning that filled the previous five minutes.

I said, 'no.'

I claimed that my knee was too sore to stand for another five minutes and I was certainly incapable of standing without leaning on my chair. Although my knee was achy, the truth was that I was bored and decided that this was the moment I was going to make my power play. This was my moment to put this unconventional teacher in his place. He quietly walked toward me, removed my chair and said, 'you will stand.' I looked him in the eye said 'no' again. He stared right back at me. I cracked and tears began to roll down my cheeks. He walked back to his desk and started the clock.

For the full five minutes I silently cried. Not because my knee hurt but because my pride hurt. He called my bluff and I was embarrassed. At the end of the five minutes, in which not a soul moved or breathed, he returned my chair and told us all to have a seat. He then spent the next several minutes explaining the words in the national anthem, the legacy of Canadian soldiers and how our small act of daily remembrance is important so that none of us ever forget the great price that was paid for the life we live.

He finished his talk with these words, "Boys not much older than you gave up their lives so that you can live freely in this great country, the least you can do is stand for three minutes a day and remember them."

Mr. Kennedy was the first person and only person I can ever remember explaining the significance of our anthem and the importance of standing with respect and remembering, honouring, those who fought for our freedom. From that moment to this, if ever I have wasted an opportunity to remember and honour during our national anthem I have felt guilty, like I have cheapened the gift of freedom.

So this morning, as I told the boys to stand at attention and stop talking, I thought of Mr. Kennedy, of the brave men and women who fought, on the battlefield and in the legislature, throughout our nation's history to bring freedom and protect her citizens. I thought, I honoured and I wondered. I wondered if these kids understand. If they understand the price of freedom, the gift of freedom. I wondered if they have ever been told that the simple act of standing at attention for three minutes is our small gift back.

 I wonder.

We only need to look at what we are really doing in the world and at home and we'll know what it is to be Canadian.
~Adrienne Clarkson