A Phrase That Has Changed My World

One of the most empowering, life-changing statements that I have ever made is "I would like to write a story about your life ... " Never, in a million years would I have guessed how those words would change me, my life and sense of belonging and purpose within my little world.

I have been 'collecting memories' for about six years.

I assembled my mom's family's memories into a small book in a very short space of time. I think that I knew that I needed that fast forward momentum to carry me through until the end.

I assisted a friend with her family memories. She was the motivation behind that little project. I had lost my momentum and my friend had what it took to get the job done.  

I started collecting my dad's family memories five years ago. I am still working on it. I'm not proud of the fact that it has taken this long but I have a sense of knowing (after all is said and done) that I will be grateful that I didn't rush the process.

The gift of collecting memories has been overwhelming.

I have come to know my parent's families in ways that I could have never imagined or ever dared to hope for. I have forged connections to my cousins that have become one of my most cherished gifts. I have been drawn into my friend's family in a way that is unshakeable and unmistakeable. 

When you hear people share the gift of their memories, you are walking on sacred ground.

Within those memories lie the essence of the person who has grown up and is sitting before you. To hear the childhood memories that are an intricate part of the person who sits before you helps you hear more and better than ever before. 

When people talk about their memories, the years have a tendency to vanish. Eyes twinkle and sparkle. Voices change and the language of their body becomes youthful again.

Being young is not all sunshine and roses. Within those youthful stories I have heard insecurities within the story or sometimes the story is about those lonely, anxious years. 

I think that it is very brave to tell the world that growing up can be hard and sometimes a very lonely place. Growing up in today's world is all of that and perhaps even feels more so.

When I recall the memories that have made me who I am, I try not to omit the hard parts. It is the challenges that we have overcome that make us into who we are. Sharing that-which-is-hard makes us feel vulnerable but I think that others interpret that vulnerability into feeling that a person is more approachable. 

We are all living our own drama. When you tell the story-that-is-your life, sit tall and be proud of where you are and the obstacles you have overcome to get there. It is the bumps and bruises, the hills and valleys, the detours and dead ends that make life interesting and make you the individual that you have become. Just think how boring our story would be if it was a straight path to the end goal.

Remember that which has brought you joy and your eyes will twinkle. Recall the innocence of your youth and feel the years fade away. Recite an old poem or recall and old memory and hear your voice tell the story of your life with fond remembrance. Wear your scars like medals. You have earned them.

And when you see someone looking a little lost and forlorn ... ask them the questions that make it easy for them to tell you their story. We all have a story. The more we listen to the world around us, the more connected we become.

If there has been one thing that I have found with each and every person that I have listened to, it is that there is a common thread between us. There is a connection. Always. Sometimes you have to listen a little harder. Sometimes you must share a little piece of yourself. But when we open ourselves up and tell our stories, our world becomes very small and cozy. 

"Tell me the story of you ..." This small phrase has opened my eyes, my heart and the doors to my life like no other. 

Those six words have not only impacted my life ... they have changed me. 

Perpetuating the Good

I just scrolled through the names on our phone's call display and it is predominantly 'family' ...

It feels incredibly warm and wonderful to scan the list of names and see our family's surname repeated time and time and time again.

The flurry of family activity will abate soon and I know that I will miss this intense connection.

In the mean time, I have had such meaningful conversations with so many family members that something stronger than a phone connection has been forged.

As I sit here and absorb the conversations, the interactions, the community and support that is 'family', I am overwhelmed. We are so very, very fortunate to have what we have. Each and every person that I mention this to, whole heartedly agrees with me. We know what we have is a gift.

It was very important to my grandpa that his sons stayed connected, worked together and forged partnerships that would forever intertwine their family's lives. I cannot help but think of how he would feel if he could look down upon his family and see that this connection has gone beyond his seven sons. His grandchildren have been enveloped in this community of family.

My grandpa's wish for his family has gone forth and multiplied. I just hope that I can pass this gift down to my own children ...

Something this good must keep going.

Their Little Home on the Prairie

Their dream began over four years ago. My Son bought a quarter section of land about 45 minutes away from Our Fair City and The Dream was ignited.

So began the long, arduous process of culling through the remnants of the previous owner. Perhaps he was a bit of a pack rat. Maybe a garbage collector. Mostly ... it was simply a case of neglect. Garbage was everywhere. My Son found even more when he gazed upward towards the sky and spotted junk hanging from the branch of a tree.

Leaning buildings were demolished. The barn was re-shingled. The shop was insulated, shingled, re-sided and doors were replaced. The excessive garbage was dragged out of buildings, the surrounding area and bushes. Bit by bit, hour by hour, year by year ... little things started to add up and there became a look that someone cared about the property.

The Dream was and always has been to turn this piece of land into a home. That is much easier said than done.

What do you do when the house that is on the property needs to be replaced from the bottom, up? And from the inside, out. The structural integrity was shaky at best. Every which way they looked at it there was no choice but to tear apart and rebuild that-which-was-standing. So the house was demolished and they opted to go for a do-over.

A small house was bought. A foundation was built. The existing house was moved onto the foundation. It sounds easy, doesn't it?

In two words? It wasn't.

My Son and His Girlfriend have logged more time and energy into their (eventual) new home than they can even begin to count (though they probably have a pretty accurate idea on the $$'s that have added up). It has to have been a labor of love because their level of commitment to the task has been unshakeable.

I cannot even begin to put into words the effort that each of them have devoted into this project called The Dream. There are times that they will not even speak of because the challenges were so unspeakable. There were challenges within the challenges within the challenge. Yet they persevered.

Fast forward to this Christmas. It has been over four years in the making, but My Son and His Girlfriend have finally 'come home' for Christmas. They have spent their Christmas holiday in their little home on the prairie.

They still have a quite a way to go before it becomes their permanent home but they do have everything except running water at the moment. It is getting close enough so that they can taste and experience the 'new life' that is awaiting them.

My Son invited me and his Younger Brother out for Christmas Dinner (on Boxing Day). His Girlfriend was spending Christmas with her out-of-province relatives and My Son was on his own. With their dogs. He worked on their house by day and when it came time to wrap things up ... he was already where he most wanted to be. He didn't have to travel anywhere to find his next meal, his bed or his home. He was already there.

I spoke to My Son a few times in the days that preceded our trek out to accept his supper invitation on Boxing Day. I have not heard 'happy' in his voice like this for a very long time.

We walked into their new home and we were enveloped in the aura of hopes and dreams. It is all coming together. The aroma of a roast chicken filled the air. Christmas lights adorned the banister on their brand new staircase from their porch into the kitchen...

Their home was decked out for Christmas and the necessities of life have found their way into their little home on the prairie ...

We savored our Christmas meal and breathed in the moments. We were a part of a momentous occasion. The First Christmas Dinner...

It is so close, they can quite literally 'taste' it right now. Their future, their hopes and their dreams are within reach. Would they appreciate it if they had not worked so hard for it? Possibly ... but I would think that each struggle and every challenge has made this illusive dream become even more precious. There is a shared commitment to this dream that goes far beyond a financial investment. I simply cannot imagine a price tag that could be placed upon this Dream that is becoming Reality.

They looked out onto the horizon together and they have found this ... an appreciation for having to work for their accomplishments in life. Today it is a home. Tomorrow ... their 'world'.

Congratulations on a Home Well Built. The sky is the limit when you put your heart and soul into what you believe in. Never stop believing ...

It All Matters

I cannot help but remember the small, insignificant things that led me to 'exactly where I was meant to be' yesterday ...

I remember one phone call that quite possibly changed my destiny.
Saying "yes" opened a door that will never be closed.
Making a friend that felt like family gave me the courage to do the next right thing.
Using that courage, I became an active member of the family that I have always belonged to.
Taking a chance, I asked one person "What do you think of this idea ...?"
Jumping into that project that has opened more doors than I could ever imagine.
Making memories, while collecting memories.
Getting to know my family, like my friends ...

All of this grew together and gave me the courage to 'just show up'. By showing up, I have learned ...

If you feel like you should call someone, don't talk yourself out of it. Just CALL.
If you feel like you should be there, just GO.
If your heart is telling you to do something, follow where it takes you.

Sometimes, all you need to 'be' ... is there.

Listen with your heart.
Reach out and touch someone. A hand. A shoulder. A hug.
Speak in whatever language they are speaking. Sometimes silence is golden.
Through laughter and tears, let yourself feel your way through the moment.

When you feel that whisper in your consciousness telling you to reach out to your world and extend yourself ... follow your own lead. You will never be sorry that you did.

Every small deed matters. It may seem insignificant at the time but it all comes together and puts you in a place where you are most meant to be.

"Do not take lightly small good deeds, believing they can hardly help.  For drops of water, one by one, in time can fill a giant pot." ~ Patrul Rinpoche

In loving memory of my uncle, who lived a good, long, full life. Surrounded by his family who held his hand, held him up and followed his lead ... who were all with him when he took his last breath yesterday afternoon. It has been an honor and a blessing to know you. I will never forget ...

A Most Untraditional Christmas

This may be the most different Christmas of all time.

I woke up this morning and (kept this year's new tradition alive) wrapped up/created some gifts for my Youngest Son. He mentioned two things that he wanted for Christmas. One of them is a chair. He expects so little ... but I know in his heart of hearts, that he must want to be surprised with something.

My Youngest realized late in the afternoon yesterday, that he hadn't done any Christmas shopping. As luck would have it, my last daycare charge was picked up with just enough time for us to run out to do a little shopping. Unfortunately My Son didn't pick a store where I could find some last minute item for him (thus my creativity this morning).

I had to run and pick something up at another store and went back to find My Son a while later. He was walking up and down the aisles empty handed. I suggested we go to another store but he was fine with sticking with where we were. So we wandered together.

I am a natterer. I suggested this, that and the other thing. Nothing. Finally I suggested starting out by finding a basket or container of some sort and then just fill it up. We looked at containers. Nothing. He suggested finding 'stuff' then coming back to the containers when we knew what size we needed. And we were off.

What he came up with was unique, special and 99% practical. He shopped for his Middle Brother's family (we are going out to his new Little House on the Prairie for a Boxing Day meal tomorrow). There is a little something for everyone within the wire garbage container that he found.

We picked up some supper, came home and watched "The Life of Pi" together. My Son assembled his gifts and wrapped them up and that was (pretty much) our Christmas Eve.

I was moments away from going to bed when My Oldest called from his vacation destination (he is in the Philippines). He was enjoying his Christmas morning, just as we were winding down our Christmas Eve.

I had talked to my Middle Son in the middle of the day, as I checked in on him (I realized that he was completely isolated out on his farm because his girlfriend was taking their truck to go and visit her family for four days). I offered him a car if he wanted it but he declined. He said that he was very much enjoying the idea of not being able to 'leave their ranch' and was sitting back and watching a movie when I called.

Three children. One is halfway across the world enjoying his annual Christmas/New Year vacation. The second has sequestered himself on his farm and is isolated from the world (as isolated as one can be these days - he does still have a cell phone and somewhat reliable reception). My third son is still snoozing this Christmas morning away. We really don't have any festive Christmas plans ... so why not sleep and go where the day takes him?

Mom was going to come here for Christmas but was much more content to stay close to home with winter weather driving conditions being so variable. She had invitations for a Christmas Eve/Christmas morning sleepover at My Brother's. Another invitation for Christmas supper at My Nephew's home.

Christmas at My Brother's family's home is idyllic in my books. It feels so very tranquil, yet festive and happy within their home at any time of the year. But Christmas time is extra special. Mom will be wrapped up in Christmas-my-brother's-family's-style, and it will be good. She will then be chauffeured to My Nephew's home where she will eat like a King Queen. Or have the opportunity to do so (Mom eats more like a bird). She will not go home hungry (or lacking of stories to tell) ...

Everyone is exactly where they want to be this year ... with one sad exception.

My uncle was admitted into palliative care yesterday. I woke up in the middle of the night and my thoughts were with his family. They will all be together this Christmas ... but I am sure that they would trade that in a heart beat if it meant that their dad/husband/grandpa was healthy and at home.

Christmas happens no matter where in the world you may be. If we are were we want to be by choice, there is no better place. As quiet and untraditional as this Christmas may be for me, there is absolutely no where else in the world that I would rather be. And I am so very grateful for that.

Happy Christmas to You. No matter where you may be ...

It's Been a Little Too Serious Around Here Lately ...

A light and easy moment that made me laugh out loud this morning:

My Youngest Son woke up early this morning with a dream nightmare fresh on his mind ...

Him: "I was mad at you (for some reason ...) while we were driving. I undid my seat belt and started getting out of the car. You stopped and let me out ... and I'm not quite sure what happened next but you ended up getting arrested for something (I'm not sure what)."

Me: (thinking) He is frustrated and angry with me under his cool, calm exterior after all. This is all going to blow one of these days ...

Him: (a few minutes later, as the dream started flashing back a little clearer) "Oh ya, now I remember why I was so mad at you. We needed a wheelchair for my younger sibling ... and you bought a vacuum cleaner instead!"

He never did remember why I was arrested. A vacuuming and driving incident perhaps?

Bubbles of Joy, Balloons of Sorrow

This moment in time will never be mine again.

As much as one struggles to hold onto the happy moments, they burst like a bubble ... though some last longer than others.

The awful moments seem to feel more like a balloon. Some balloons burst suddenly and with great flourish and they are nothing more than the withered shell that once held air.

Then there are the balloons that simply grow old and shrivel up very, very slowly. So slowly that you don't even realize that it is happening. Over time, they become quite small but there is still that pocket of air encased in a protective shell that becomes harder to burst, the longer it lasts. The air within the balloon can shift and move about ... yet the outer shell becomes more dense and the air will never burst out with a flourish unless it is trapped into a 'corner' and forced.

Grief and sorrow are like that unpopped balloon. There is always that little pocket of sorrow that moves and shifts about in our life and catches us when we least expect it. It withers up but never bursts in its entirety.

We simply don't realize how fortunate we are when life's sorrows burst open suddenly and unexpectedly and leave nothing but a shell in their wake.

We strive to hold those moments of joy tightly yet the best we can do is take pictures of those moments with our hearts and cherish the memory. Those moments are but a bubble and don't last forever.

At times of sorrow, we collect all of the memories of those 'bubbles' within our lives and hold them close to our hearts ... cherishing all of those 'bubbles' that we have collected in our collective memory banks.

To a dear, dear family that has touched my heart in ways that you will never fully know ... "may you be bathing in a bubble bath as your balloon of sorrow has been filling up with air that has yet to be released".