Wednesday, December 28, 2011


Today I'm remembering Myron. One year ago we got a phone call that let us know the world as we knew it had shattered. It had shattered for four children and a beautiful wife. And it shattered for us too.

I've thought about how to spend today. I signed off of Facebook, deciding that there was no way I wanted to face such petty banality on a day like today. I signed off saying I was going to be sitting in the quiet remembering our friend. I wanted to say that I was going to sit in the sadness, but stopped myself feeling like I shouldn't be sitting in the sadness. But that is what it really is. Yes, a year has gone by. A whole big year. But I am still sad. I have laughed and I have continued to live. But sadness still lies behind my eyes and resides in my heart. So yes, I am sitting in the sadness today. And that is okay.

I've wanted to find a way to remember our friend, to honor him in some way. If I accomplish anything, the one thing I want to say at the end of today is that I was kind to my husband. Too often I take him for granted and treat him without kindness. Losing Myron and watching his beautiful wife walk through life on her own has taught me that there are no guarantees how long we will have with the one we love most in this world. And so today I'll remember to treat the one I love most in this world with kindness. At least I hope so.

Today I will remember the good times. I'll remember the talks and the laughter, the prayer times and the sweet times with Myron leading us with his guitar. I'll remember how tight our home group once was, and I'll be thankful for the way they were home for me during the darkest days of my childbirth injury. I'll remember the goofy newlywed game we played at our last home group meeting before the Christmas break, and how we laughed until we cried at the antics dreamt up by Myron and my husband. I'll remember the songs Myron wrote and shared with our group. I'll remember the Larry Norman references. I'll remember the way he held his youngest kids and the pride he had in his eyes as he talked about his eldest child's softball prowess. I'll be thankful for the dream God sent some weeks after Myron died to help me process the domino effect of losses that came afterward. I'll be thankful for the season we had as a group, for the friendships I had in that time, and the way it impacted my life. I had once assumed we'd be together for forever. I know differently now.

Today will not be a day when I focus on the hurt from the losses that came afterward. I've spent a year focusing on those losses and got lost myself in the process. Today I will try not to remember those hurts, at least not with bitterness. It's only been in the past couple of days that I've even begun to accept that those losses really and truly did happen and that they aren't anything I can change or fix. Today is not the day for me to think about stuff like that.

Today is the day I remember Myron. And today is the day I ask Jesus to hold up Myron's family as they sit in their sadness.

Thursday, December 22, 2011

Dissecting a Why

So the other day we were running errands in the States and doing a fair bit of driving. I don't even remember what the original topic was, but Grasshopper had asked some question about something. After I answered him, he followed it up with his first "why?" and I tried to answer him as satisfactorily as possible. But it wasn't good enough, and after several more "why" pleas, it got down to "Well, because God made it that way."

"But, why did God make it that way?"

"I don't know, Grasshopper. He just did."

"But why?"

I think at this point I decided to at least enjoy the ride.

"Because He wanted you to be curious about it."

"But why?"

"Because you are almost three and it is important to learn to ask questions and be curious when you are almost three."

"But why?"

"Because your brain is growing so fast and you are learning so much, and being curious helps you to learn even more."

"But why?"

"Well, I think God chooses age almost 3 to start your curiosity because it gives Him a chance to work on mommy's character."

"But why?"

"Because I need to develop patience and kindness and the ability to be longsuffering."

"But why?"

"Because those are fruits of the spirit and God says we need those things."

"But why?"

"Because the Bible says that the fruits of the spirit help make life work better. And goodness knows I need more patience."

"But why?"

"Because it doesn't come in a pill and you can't buy it at the store, and you really need those character traits for life."

"But why?"

"For my sanctification apparently."

"But why?"

"Oh look, we're at the border and it's time to get in line."

"Mommy, why do we have to wait our turn?"

Of course, you totally know how the rest of the conversation went. Life with an almost three year old is a unique kind of wonderful and exhausting all at one time.

Monday, December 19, 2011

Boy Compliments

We're in that fun stage with an almost three year old where the talking never ceases and the "why" questions have begun in earnest. It is exhausting and exhilarating at the same time. He is so funny and so fun and just so delightful. Most of the time. Sometimes I look at him and wonder how such a little person could hold so much sweetness.....and so many words.

I came down with something in the night and after the worst was over, I slept the day away. Henry David was on kiddo duty all day long, which meant I got to soak in the tub and read half a book uninterrupted. When I came out with hair wet, fresh from washing, my son said, "Mama, I do like your long hair. I really do like your long hair." The funny thing is that he visibly reacted with delight on Saturday too when I came into the kitchen with two long braids ready to head to the last farmer's market of the season. "Oh, Mama! I do like, I do like, what are those?" "They are braids, Grasshopper." "Oh Mama, I do like your braids very much." What is not to love about this?

Then there are the moments after dinner when he has picked up on a habit of his daddy's that really warm my heart. "Mama, thank you for making that for dinner! That was good!" Interestingly enough, he says this even when he hasn't hardly eaten anything and has decided he doesn't like something. No matter how many calories he ingested, I do love his enthusiastic and sweet gratitude. He's such a fun kid.

He asked me to sit by him at his little table this evening while he was finishing up a snack and some tea his daddy had made him. He does love his tea times with Daddy. "Mama, do you want some tea?" "No thank you, Grasshopper. Mama can't have tea today." "Oh, okay. Do you want to share mine?" "No sweetheart, I can just have some water because I have a yucky tummy, but thank you for wanting to share." "Oh, okay. I do like tea. Daddy made it for me. I do like this cup."

There are moments when I just want him to be quiet so that our little home can experience a moment of silence. "Mama, you mean I can't talk? You mean, I can't talk right now?" The moment of silence never happens as he fills in the spaces with questions in response to my gentle request that he think about giving his tongue a rest. And though I miss my quiet and I miss the solitude, really I have to say that life is so much better with the little boy who compliments and thanks and questions and talks and loves and plays all day and all night long. (Or so he often requests when we tell him it's bedtime.) He won't always be almost three and asking me to "hold my whole body, Mama". So I have to say that I'm grateful for the little boy who follows me around all day, in all of his stages. His little personality is fun to get to know and discover.

He's a precious gift and I just hope I can keep on being a good and patient and kind mama all of his days. In the meantime, the boy compliments do go a long way. ;)

Monday, December 5, 2011

Hope of Healing

I've written a bit on this blog about my journey with a birth injury caused by malpractice and the long road to healing that it required. I mostly walked that road alone, for no one really knew how to help or how to properly resource me. Through sheer determination and stubbornness, I found healing in various places. But it always made me wonder about a woman in a similar situation who might not have the same dogged determination to find healing and hope. What would happen to her? Out of that wondering grew a passion and a purpose to help any woman who ever came my way.

I met them on the playground and at the grocery store. And a few even emailed me after reading my story on a birth board I had joined. The one thing all of us held in common besides a traumatic or injurious birth was the fact that we had to walk this road alone and didn't know where to turn for help. Thankfully, women in Canada no longer have to walk that road alone.

A group of amazing women have formed a group called Vancouver Birth Trauma with two main goals in mind: 1. change the face of maternal medicine, and 2. make sure every woman knows her available resources and doesn't feel alone in her plight. The first goal is going to take a long time, because there are many hurdles to cross, not the least of which is the belief of many physicians of "first do no harm to your fellow physician". But the second goal is already getting met each day as more women find out we exist and reach out for help.

I am excited to be a part of this, and passionate about offering every hurting mama who crosses my path a promise of healing and hope that is kept by properly resourcing her with everything from physiotherapy to books to counselors/therapists. I'm putting this post out here in the hopes that a woman finds it and takes us up on our invitation to offer help. Feel free to contact the website (there is even a number for peer counseling), or contact me via the email address found if you click on my profile for this blog. Even if you don't live in Vancouver, we want to offer help and hope and make sure you find the healing you need.