Prayers for the Bartels family

Sending prayers and thoughts to the Bartels family who have faced tragedy.
My heart goes out to Pat, Will, and children as well as their extended family.
What a beautiful testimony to the faith of a loving God, who is present in our suffering.
What a blessing to know that our God has a purpose and plan for all threads in His perfect tapestry!
Praise God from whom all blessing flow.
Please continue to pray for Pat, for a full recovery, and for Will to have the strength, the peace and all that he needs to endure this trial.
A Massive Hole

Gold

I watched a speech competition the other night with gr. 7 and 8 students from all over Ontario.
I was the proud Mom sitting in the second row, feeling ill for my daughter.  I'm quite sure although she did not take notice, that many other Moms would sympathize with my stomach being in knots, and my throat being dry, while my palms were sweaty.
In a perfect story for the movies, my daughter would have placed 1st or 2nd and received a trophy, but this isn't the movies...this is life.
I'm not actually sure where she placed, as they only give the top two awards, but her and I know that the nerves got to her.  Did I feel bad for her, yes, but more than that...I was so proud.
I wasn't impressed because she made it that far,  I wasn't happy that she rose to deliver even though her nerves were getting the better of her, and I wasn't proud of her smile of grace even when she knew after her speech that it wasn't going to be her standing in the end.
The love came at the end of it all, as I watched her interact with her friends.  It was in the tears she shed for pure happiness that a good friend who stood beside her,had placed second in the poetry group.
It was in the congratulations she offered to the others who had placed.  It was in the hugs she gave to her friends who had come to support her; saying, "it's ok I didn't win".
And on the way home; as I sat quietly in the drivers seat with my sister in law beside me;
and 6 friends/cousins in the back, I had to smile, as they talked about the cool other speeches, the interesting facts they learned, the amazement over the boy who presented the first place speech.  They laughed about the choir that was making distracting noises in the next room, they roused each other about their own speeches, and experiences at the school level.
But the most amazement sound to me was the near tear squeals about how happy they were for their friend and class mate who had placed.
And at the end of the night, as I crawled into bed, I smiled.  
We raise our children to think of others, do unto others as you would have them do to you, ...Jesus, Others, Yourself...so to share in others happiness even when it is at the sacrifice of your own. 
You teach them to be bigger than disappointment, and to keep their chin up...but you never really know if they hear it, or if they practice it unless you are fortunate enough to see them go through it.
And so I am thankful I was able to witness a "failure", and able to see how she dealt with it. 
At the end of the day; it is hard to fail, but it is worse to never had tried to succeed. (Theodore Roosevelt)
So although others may not remember her as a winner of a provincial speech competition; in my eyes, she did win.

SNOW-COOL

Snow-cool = sooo cool, or there's no school, or snow school;
however you want to interpret it; I have decided to interpret it this way;
Snow = no school = so cool!

I love that call that comes at 6:00 a.m.
You know the one?  You wonder why that ringing is coming from your ear, and then you clue in that it's the phone.  You can barely form words, or say hello, but you already have a smile because you know!

I love snow days!
Maybe better is that I have DECIDED to LOVE snow days.  There's just something about it.
In fact, I love it when I see words like this;

Warnings, and Watches are awesome...literally.  It's amazing to watch how the one thing we cannot control at all, can control us so well.

I know so many of you are probably rolling your eyes, or thinking I'm unreal.
But if there's one thing I've learned in life it's to either appreciate what has been put in front of you, or walk around with a scowl and be bitter.

I can't help but think of the night that I made bok choy for my family as the vegetable side.
They all raised their eyebrows, and sniff a little, asking what is it, and more importantly for their palates; what's IN it.  But you know what?  They have also learned to take what's in front of them and appreciate it for what it is...even if it smells like socks and looks weird.
They all tried that bok choy and you know what?!  Ok, only one liked it.  But my oldest actually preferred it over broccoli!! YAY!, and all because they know that they just have to take a little step and think outside the box.

So I have chosen to do that with my snow days.
They could mope around the house, or I could help them take a step and let them realize that it's time to appreciate the cold, blowing white stuff.
So we dared make the little trek to a local store and got some necessities; at the same time I let them pick out something they wanted for lunch.
My cart quickly filled up with a chicken pot pie, pizza, a single portion of lasagna, mr. noodles, and the obvious favourite of a 1 and 4 year old; mac and cheese.
Then I decided to show them what a donut is in the parking lot!  Ok, it was more like half or 3/4 a donut because even at 35 I'm a little skidish.
Then we hopped over to the library where they grabbed a book and a movie.
And you know what; it's not maybe the nicest...but we're gonna bundle up and go out to shovel the rink, and maybe slide around on the ice hiding under the snow.  It might not be a long excursion, but when they come back in; it'll be hot chocolate, and popcorn!

I'm thankful the phone rang at 6 a.m.  To me it means a slower pace, some adventure and good fun!
So take a snow day and think outside the box!!
Take what's placed in front of you and make it something...
Now if you excuse me; I've got some snow to tend to!! :)

KISS it and grab a hug this season.

KISS it and grab a hug this season...
well, because; it's true.

I was doing dishes for the third time when I gazed outside at my 4 year old son and neice playing.  Running around in the nearly melted snow.  Not seeming to notice the green patches that lay among the piles of white, not caring about the fact that there wasn't enough snow to go toboganning, and that it was so wet their snow pants looked more like splash pants.  And then at random intervals between rolling on the ground, swinging on the tire swing and shovelling or "digging for treasure" (not sure how many dog bombs they uncovered), they would break into a hug.  Both arms wrapping eachother tight, falling over, and then ...back to playing.

It started me thinking about this holiday season.
Enter KISS and hug ;)
Kiss is actually an acronym for "Keep it Simple Stupid", or as a mother of 6 would say, "Keep it Simple Silly".

We do the hustle and bustle around during the Christmas season, trying to knock off all the gifts on our wish list, trying to incorporate everyone into the season.
We have things to do, places to go, and people to see. 

I have spent the last week with family, having dinners, eating too much, and not getting enough sleep.
But I think the things I have enjoyed the most were the laughs, the good times, traditions shared, and the memories made.  We have watched the movie "Elf" and "Rudolph" and the "Grinch" every year, and yet; it never gets old.
Now it's a little annoying that my children can almost recite every line; and yet when they get excited that a certain part is coming up; it makes me laugh at how they can get excited every year when Will Farrell jumps into a "no it's not" argument with the store manager.

The point is; when I have asked my kids what their favourite part of the holiday has been so far; they haven't said their gifts, they haven't said the food, and they haven't said that it's that they have missed their bed times by hours.
It's that they got to go skating outside with their Dad, that they played games with us till 9p.m., and that they have seen their cousins.
Well; if I had known how easy it was to KISS it; I would never have bought the gifts...
and simply told them to KISS it and give me a hug!

So with that; enjoy the second week of your holiday season.
Our family wishes you all a happy and healthy New Year...
and when you ring in 2014...just KISS it, because chances are; it will make you happier, and it will be more appreciated.

Broken

I came down the stairs after putting laundry away to my 4 year old greeting me at the bottom of the stairs;
"I don't want to play with that anymore Mommy."
"What?...", and then I saw it.
My 550 piece puzzle which was almost complete, strewn all over the kitchen floor.
After a gasp, I asked him why he would do that, to which he replied, "I don't like it anymore."
I put him on the stool for 4 minutes time out, and while he cried, I gathered.
I gathered the pieces among crumbs, a 1 year old crawling, and tears.

Whenever I have a spare 2 minutes as a Mother, which isn't that often, I would walk by and just put in 2 pieces.  That's all I had time for.  My other children sometimes helping me when they came home from school, we'd talk as we sat around the island and worked on this puzzle.  Even when I was feeling tired or stressed, one more piece added was one less to place later.
This puzzle had been in the works for a week; and now it lay thrown all over my kitchen.
Tears perhaps not necessary, but it's what the puzzle had stood for...family gatherings, chats, stress release, and now it was gone...broken, in pieces.
Like my life lately.

My life feels it's in pieces, and it seems that every time I put a piece in the puzzle, an event or someone like 4 year old comes and pulls it all apart.
Broken; that's life isn't it?  We try to match up colours and shapes, hoping they will fit effortlessly together in no time flat, but what we end up doing is looking at a table full of pieces that look similar, and yet, only one will fit where we want it.
And so we try to force pieces together, and force things to work, but become angry and discouraged at the futility of it all, because one day, it's broken, laying on the floor.
And really, who doesn't feel like my son?  Who doesn't at some point want to say, "I don't want to play with this anymore?"
We become tired and beaten, worn and feel defeated.

Broken, and lying on the floor.  Many days I relate to this puzzle.
I feel the harder I try, the more frustrated I become.  The things that should fit seamlessly together, do not fit at all, and I can't see the whole picture, because all I see are these pieces lying in front of me.
When I walk close to my faith, and do the things I believe that the Lord requires of me, I wonder how it can be that all these pieces do not just fit nicely.  Why do I have to search, and wonder, struggle and seek?
But that's just it isn't it?  God doesn't promise an easy task.  He doesn't even promise that I'll see the picture.  But what he does promise is that if I finish the race that I will receive the crown of glory.  Finish the race.  That means I may never see the reward here and now.  But I go on.  So why don't I just give up?  Why not just pack up the pieces back in the box, and accept the fact that I may never finish this puzzle the way it's intended to be finished?

I go on, because I know that He knows what the picture is, and that it's beautiful.  All the pieces as confusing as they are to me, and mismatched as they look, do indeed, fit perfectly.  And so I pick myself and these pieces off the floor and carry on, starting over again even after my 4 year old has broken it apart.  For I know that the true reward is when I finish the puzzle.  And what keeps me going?  Well, the simple fact that I want to see the picture. 
Because I know that when it actually fits all together...it will be beautiful.

Gone but never forgotten

The white lights glisten off the branches of the Christmas tree that sits in the corner of our kitchen.
I've always treasured the different ornaments on the tree.
Each one a story to tell, woven in between the more traditional coloured balls that hang suspended by various branches.
"Baby's first Christmas" is a common phrase seen tucked away amid tinsel, and lights.  Six of them, to be precise.
But then there is that angel.  The little blonde boy, with wings stretching out, and a smile upon his face.  The bottom of this ornament simply says, "Michael, 2011".
The year I lost a son, the year Michael was born asleep.
December 13th marked the day that two years ago we lost our little boy.
His story only spanned 3 days, but his life touched our lives forever.

December 13, 2011 I awoke, and didn't feel well, and thought something was "amiss". I told my husband that I would be calling the doctor, because I just didn't feel well, and was cramping a little. My husband went to work, and I told him that I would call if I needed him.
Looking back, I think that I was probably trying to convince myself that if I could make it  seem not a big deal, then it wouldn't be.  Plus, I'm of dutch decent; so really, we are a touch stubborn.  Or maybe it was the power of suggestion in my head that all was ok...we all do it I suppose.

But the little flutters of my boy's movement had ceased.  I lay still waiting for him to let me know that he was ok, but the little kicks wouldn't come.  The "feeling" that something was not right, was more a reality in my heart than my head..  At 19 weeks gestation  I walked through my doctor's office door, and laid on the table, only to hear the one thing I dreaded...
Silence.

My doctor moved the dopler to the right, then the left, all the while constantly apologizing.  I kept saying, "it's ok.", when really what I wanted to shout was, "find the heart beat please.  Just try harder!".  But I knew.

He assured me that perhaps it was nothing.  Perhaps my baby had just turned and tucked in such a way as to hide.  Yes, ok, that was it.  It had to be.  But a mother knows; even today, I never underestimate the power of a mother's intuition.  I knew that my doctor was trying hard to keep me calm.
The irony of it all, was that I was calm.  God had me, He carried me, planting the knowledge in my heart that my son was already dancing in heaven.

Awaiting an emergency ultrasound booked for 1pm, I went to my van, and called my husband.  I tried to keep it light, telling him that although there was no heart beat heard, that it didn't mean anything.
Did I want him to come with me to the ultrasound? "No", I said.  I knew he wouldn't be able to get there on time anyway, but the truth is, that if he came, I knew I would fall apart.

I had a miscarriage before at 13 weeks, and that was hard, but how could I face a loss after I had felt the kicks, the flutters and the hiccups?  Surely this was not God's plan for my life??  Surely I would not have to go down this path He set before me.
But when I lay on the table and the nurse went to work with the ultrasound machine, I looked at her face, and I knew.
Back at my doctor's office, I was told.  "I'm sorry Eleanor."   I responded with "It's ok."
"But you knew already didn't you?", he asked.
"Yes.  I knew"
It was a boy, he was gone, I needed to see the OBGYN, I had to deliver because of his size, that was it.
Done.
Our lives changed, just like that.

And so, I smile at this angel, who changed our lives forever. I smile at that change.
He taught us so much in such a short time.  Patience, love, peace, growth. 
The rest of his story I will share on his birthday, December 16th.
I carried Michael for 3 days after I found out his heart had stopped beating.
Some wonder how I was able to do that.  Would it not have been easier to be induced, and deliver him the day his heart stopped beating?  No.
But that's a story for another time.

I wanted normal...

You know how it goes right?
You grow up, boy meets girl, girl and boy start dating; she's 16, he's 18, high school sweet hearts, post-secondary education; but who really cares, because she's 19 and engaged now! Young couple get married, she's not even legally able to drink on her honeymoon because she's 20! They want a family, and so she becomes pregnant at a mere 21, and finally the life she's always dreamed of having begins...
Or not.

I wanted normal.  I wanted to be a wife, a Mom, and I wanted to have that glow about me.  Everyone told me as the youngest of 6 girls in a home that I'd be a great Mom.  I was an Aunt already at age 12; and loved nothing more than babysitting, coddling, and caring for my nephews and nieces.
Ok; so I gave my 9 month old nephew coke in a bottle ONCE, but my brother was babysitting with me, and he thought it was a better idea than I did.
Oh, and there was the time my nephew locked me out of my sister and brother in law's apartment..and maybe that time I thought my niece could sit, and I put her down and she fell over, but other than minor set backs, it seemed to everyone I was destined to be a great Mom.

Looking back now;
The fact that my first labour and delivery only lasted 5 hours from start to finish, and the fact that when they placed that little baby girl on my chest I wanted to run for the hills, I should have seen the warning signs.
But I wanted to be normal.

"Normal"; definition - "the usual, average, or typical state or condition".  But who's to say what's the average or typical state when you have your first child?
Elation? Joy? Fatigue? Amazement?  I don't know what normal was, but I felt none of it.
I honestly could not figure out why my mother was so ecstatic.  Why my husband was grinning from ear to ear?  And WHY on earth was everyone saying she was so beautiful, when all I saw were stork bites, bruising on the forehead, and a human that looked completely foreign to me.
What was normal for me was looking at this child and feeling so un-natural, wondering if this indeed was what my child should look like.  Normal for me was wanting a shower more than a cuddle.  Normal was being afraid to be left alone in charge of raising this little bundle.

It's a scary thing to go through what many call the most joyful experience in you life, and find it not all that joyful.  I struggled to be a Mom for most of my daughters first year of life.  I even cried in my sister's living room telling her something was wrong when my daughter was 3 months old.  She told me it was just the blues; bless her heart really...the 5 girls above me went through mother-hood swimmingly..never expecting that the youngest would struggle.

And when I became pregnant with my second child a mere 13 months after my daughter was born, what was brewing inside of me was a storm that would become how I refer to as the "pit year".
My son was 4 months old by the time I finally received the proper medical help I needed. And even when I received the medication, it took me 8 days to actually swallow a pill, all for the sake of wanting to be "normal". 

But you know what; I finally realized that my normal was medication.  When I was pregnant with my third child, I was on meds 2 weeks before my due date, so that when she was born, it would already be in my system...and I honestly believe that that was the first birth where I was "normal".  I finally knew what it meant to love being a Mom.

It seems so easy you say?  No, it wasn't.  And if you struggle, you may be wondering how and when or if you will ever be the same again...

and so, if you have questions on coping, or ways to keep your mind busy, or need a prayer, please let me know.
In the mean time if you or someone you know may be suffering, please check out this link below, to see if they may need help.
http://www.focushelps.ca/article/life-issues/depression/what-can-we-do-about-postpartum-depression