The Mirror

By: Just myself
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If I looked deeply into a clear mirror, what would I see?

Would I see the surface, the silver grey hair in the cut I am not so very fond of?

Would I see the tired blue eyes that seem to have lost their spark?

Would I see the rolls and imperfections, as a result of the abuse and comfort choices?

Would I see a harried person rushing from job to job, not quite put together, but mostly presentable for the day?

If I looked in the mirror would I see the million disappointments and sorrows piled on to one another?

Would I see the slipping mask that tries to hide it all?

Would I see the confusion of how what I envisioned and hoped, and fought for for my life, and the actual true reality of it are not in alignment?

Would I see the bitterness and pain of betrayal, of broken dreams, harsh words and unmet expectations?

Would I see a glimmer of hope for what is left in my ever shortening life line?

Would I see truth of character, of caring and kindness, angry and disappointed, or a bitchy tired grouch?

Would I see the desperation of the woman that still wants to be desired, loved, taken care of, safe?

Would I see the loving mom trying to help her children get ready for launching into the world?

Would I see confusion of how to be of value and worth as the years take a toll on the body and that youthful beauty fades away?

Would I see a survivor crawling up out of the depths, dirty, bruised, broken?

Would I see a fighter in battle, fighting off there old beliefs about themselves?

Would I see truth, love, compassion or disgust, disappointment and failings?

Would I see the sin of my poor choices and desperation glaring ugly in my face? Or the Savior in His Glory reflecting back?

If I looked deeply into the mirror what would I see?

Still Child

By: Just myself
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The child sat silently, observing the family banter around her. Aloof from the crowd, wanting to fit in, but terribly afraid to be noticed. The laughter and conversation filled the room and spilled out into the night air.

A million what ifs fluttering through her mind, like those little blue butterflies that spin around and around alighting only for a second and returning to their dance in the air.

What would be asked of her if she was noticed? What if the attention irritated the adults? It was far better to sit invisibly in the corner, unnoticed,  still.

The child sat silently, observing the family banter around her. Aloof from the crowd, wanting to fit in, but terribly,  terribly afraid to be noticed.

I Want To Write

By: Just myself
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Why haven’t I been writing?

Not in my journal, not in my blog, not letters, or even quick notes. Stories keep twisting, from morning to night, dancing and spinning, glittering, teasing, and bright. Around and around growing and fading away, story and thought over and over all day.

Why don’t I stop and write?

Colourful words I dream to put down. Descriptions of smells, sights, and sounds. What if my words don’t capture my thoughts or give the full picture? I can hear the stories, but they are behind these locks.

Will today be the day I set myself free?

I know that this cage that is set around my spirit is binding me tight in ropes of fear. I know that it all started somewhere inside, grief, identity, hiding in shadows in plain sight. The outside looks normal. The inside is shaken. Kidnapped and bound but living near normal. I alone hold the key. I should use it today. Break through this fear, step out, practice, and have faith!

Do I tell the truth or mascarade on?

When my grandma died, my heart was broken, anger raged, and I could not focus. My sorrow grabbed control of me. Anger, anger, anger, a very uncomfortable emotion. I used to just suppress it, not learning how to process. Not this time! I own it!

I worry all of the time. Will the grief and anger cross the line? Will my writings be sorrowful and depressing? Where is the beautiful, the colourful, the bright songs? Dancing lights, where have you gone? Magic, miracles, joy, love? My happy place where light my life belongs?

I will write. I will put the words down. I will allow the music of life to wrap and weave a beautiful melody of joy, gratitude, anger, and grief. Why hide the fact of what is true? Sometimes, life seems easy, and sometimes, the opposite is true.

If sorrow, anger, hate, and fear are part of life, is there some sort of beauty to be found there? What if the beautiful rises up from the ashes of sorrow, like new green growth after a forest fire rages through leaving dark trails of destruction, acrid smell. What if victory only comes from battling and waring and conquering fear and hate?

What if living truly makes us warriors? Are we ready for the battles? Have we polished our armor? Have we practiced till we bled, building strong muscle and sharp eyes, lightening reflexes, or are we weak like the walking dead? Dress up warrior, put your full armor on, don’t sleep, rise up, march on.

The sun is rising faithfully. The birds and crickets have welcomed the dawn, a chorus beautifully orcastrated from some power beyond. Joyfully dancing like a ballet through the air, light then powerful, floating gracefully. Morning welcome.

Today, I wrote.

Ending 2022 Well

By: Just myself
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This year’s end, next year’s life!

Just over one month left of 2022. I don’t want to wish it away, instead I want to work it. What can I accomplish with God’s help in just six weeks?

The areas of most concern to me are (in no particular order) health/wellness, conquering the c.h.a.o.s. in my home, and increasing income through sales of gift boxes before Christmas.

I could jump on to the hustle and bustle of Christmas train, but I don’t want to. I want long term gain as apposed to short term satisfaction.

How about you, how would you like to end your year?

“Date” with my son

By: Just myself
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Ready to go!

My kids are growing up so fast. I had been warned that “time flies”. I realize now that it seems that as we age time really does speed up.

Fred’s sixteen already, and although I may be slightly biased, he is a great kid.

He is a young man that works hard, cares much, and rarely complains. In fact he complains so little that his clothes were ‘shrinking’ more everyday and he would just squeeze into them and go on about his day.

I planned a day. I made appointments at the salon (Fred’s first professional hair cut), let him pick where to have lunch, and dragged him through the extremely limited clothing stores in town (well men’s clothing stores).

The time in the salon was lovely. The tacos for lunch were delicious. Shopping was…hard, the boy doesn’t care what clothes he wears, and he didn’t show me ‘how’ the pants fit, he just said they did. (I really hope they do, 🤞.)

The very best part of our day, I think, was taking him to the nursery and letting him pick out some plants to love. I had not realized that he had never been with me before when I went there. It was love at first sight as we walked into the giant green house. It reminded me of my grandpa, how he loved his garden. On this trip Fred picked a crocodile fern and a fun succulent to decorate his room with. “Look at this mom! And this! Look over here!”

I think I have found a gardening partner as he chatted about how excited he was to get our gardens cleaned up and planted. What else we should get on a later trip. JOY!

Our day ended too soon. I really can’t wait for the next chance we get to go out together again!

Tired but happy!

Magic of March

By: Just myself
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I may have said it before but I don’t like to wish my life away. With the risk of sounding like I am, I am glad February over. February seemed unusually hard this year. Maybe it was the cold that had me huddled hiding in my home. Or maybe it was just a season of spiritual stretching and growth. It felt like death and mourning too many days. So glad to lay February to rest.

Here we are at March now. March the month to dream of warming days. Spring melt. Garden plans. Walks to come. Playing in puddles and mud. (Hopeful. Canada in March could just be more winter.)

Dreams of setting up my outside prayer spot. Surrounded by blooms and food.

Dreams of hikes in the park, camping and fishing. Picking dates for a big excursion.

Time to launch my dream journal. A colourful book to set goals, make plans, reflect, create. (My current journal is almost full.) I need a place of encouragement for myself. (Been beating myself up a bit too much lately.) My creativity needs a place to pour out.

March a month of gardening videos and vlogs. Books and lessons. Renewed interest in learning composting and canning, pest control, and supplementing. Pruning and building.

The magic of March, to me, a month of dreams, of plans, of hope. And the weather begins to warm, the days are noticeably longer. Back into the light. March