Why is this necklace meaningful to me?

Why is my mona cross choker from Lines and Currents  Belfast, Northern Ireland, meaningful to me? 

First, it is a reminder of my heritage. My maternal grandparents were born in Northern Ireland and had strong faith in God. I am grateful for this legacy passed down to me.

Second, it reminds me of the privilege I had last year (February 2020) of being with my mom as she lay dying from the complications of dementia. My mom was so proud her parents were from Northern Ireland and took us to visit so many times, even in the 80's during the troubles! These incredible holidays I experienced are one of the reasons I have a great love for Northern Ireland and love supporting small local businesses! 

In those last weeks, my mom stopped eating and exhibited hurtful behaviour thanks to the horrible disease of dementia, I didn't know how to be in that space.  Interestingly, a penpal of mine from NI spoke some beautiful words into my life after she read my IG post! She suggested I think of being in that difficult space as both a daughter and caregiver as a holy place, an altar. Just be still and allow my mom to lead-wherever that takes me. And pray for God to give me peace. 

Those words were wise and allowed me to change my attitude into truly seeing my time with my mom as a privilege.  I let go of how I wanted her dying to be and embraced the "dementia altar" as a holy space.   I am grateful God allowed me to have this time with her even though it was so difficult. 

That primal mother instinct, like breathing, does not stop until their very last breath. My mom was my mom right to the very end. It was so powerful. So beautiful. So holy. So peaceful.

Wearing this choker keeps my mom close and reminds me that God is always with me. I am reflecting my mom's love and her love of her roots everywhere I go in my mona cross choker! 

Elsie May

I love using my creative brain putting together outfits that have a purpose, that have a theme, that are a bright light in a dark world, that inspire others. I am an artist, a creative soul. My wardrobe is my canvas. An opportunity to express myself. An opportunity to reflect happy to those I come in contact with who need happy.  As artists, we open ourselves up for judgement. We are vulnerable. But it does not give anyone the right to make us feel less of a beautiful human person, created for a purpose on this planet. Created to make a difference in our world. ❤
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So I am embracing happy today with confidence and pride wearing my Grandma Whalen's old housedress I found in my storage unit this past summer!😉 ❤
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I knew I had to keep it, especially since it had her name Elsie May stitched on the tag. This dress brings many happy memories of her! Elsie May had nine children and in her later years of life she would visit each family staying for months. At each home, wearing her housedress and apron, she would bake her bread, knit her slippers, cook Jigg's dinner for us and sit and talk with us over tea and gingerale when we got home from school! ❤
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Elsie May was a strong, fiesty woman who never held back her opinion! She would definitely be telling me to "stop my nonsense" and wonder why on earth I would wear a housedress to work! But this woman was full of love and faith. She always told me (and the rest of her grandchildren and great grandchildren and great great grandchildren) she loved me and was praying🙏 for me. Her door was always open for anyone to stop by for a chat, tea, gingerale, cheese & crackers and Peppermint Knobs!
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So I wear this housedress today in honour of my Grandma,  Elsie May Whalen! I miss you. I accessorized with pearls and my tassel pearl earrings from Paris! And of course my makeup is Beautycounter😉
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Never let anyone tell you you are less of a human for what you wear.  We are fierce, creative women who have a message this world needs to hear, even wearing Grandma Elsie May's house dress! 😊
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#ootd #motd #style #accessories #beautycounter #fashionstyle #whattowear #vintage #vintagedress #igstyle #creative

I am Strong! Happy International Women's Day!

I am strong!

 I didn't always feel strong. Nor did I know just how strong I was until I walked through a family crisis a few years ago. The most difficult time of my life. However, I made it safely to the other side. Although I should have known my resilience long ago.

As you read in my previous post, as a young, naive 18 year old, I travelled to Sweden on my own after high school to attend a Bible College for 7 months. Then I backpacked around Europe solo.

I moved to western Canada knowing no one to start my full time career after university. I created a wonderful life in Edmonton.

I then transferred to eastern Ontario finally settling in my hometown where I have been working as an Educational Assistant for 15 years.

For my 40th birthday I travelled to Paris on my own for one week. It was the most freeing time I have experienced. I felt alive. Joie de vivre!

Even though I never married nor had children, I have an incredible tribe of men and women surrounding me, supporting me, encouraging me. I am  grateful to God for allowing my path to intersect with beautiful humans who have empowered me and taught me many life lessons along the way.

Here I am now in a new role,  a woman entrepreneur. Some days I feel out of my league as I advocate for better health protective/beauty laws in Canada. But I am strong. I am resilient. I am intelligent. I am compassionate! I can do it!

I am strong!

 My strength comes from my parents who always believed in me and encouraged me on my life's journey.

 My strength comes from God who showed me unconditional love and ignited a passion within.

My strength comes from another women:

Nellie McClung.

Thank you Nellie and your suffragettes for paving the way for us women in Canada. Thank you for fighting for our right to vote. Thank you for fighting for us to be declared as persons. Thank you for empowering the future generations.

It is my prayer I can empower women that come behind me to be all they can be and recognize they are beautiful, strong humans on this planet with the mission to spread their love and voice to all they meet!

Happy International Women's Day!

We are strong.

We have a voice needing to be heard. Use it wisely!

You are strong!

Love,
K
xo

The Reality of Life When A Loved One Has a Mental Illness

The day I feared is here.

My loved one who has a mental illness has been doing amazing for the past year and a half since hospitalization--the worst year of my family's life.

She is back to her old self once again.

Amazing what a change in medication can do for a person. This was the needed change after years on the same meds.

My loved one always took her meds, never missed a dose. But with age and being on the same meds for years her poor body couldn't handle it.

We have loved being able to breathe again.

We love having our loved one back!  Our loved one is so content and happy !

The only side effect is our loved one sleeps a great deal...is very tried all the time with little energy. It is complicated as we are not sure if it is age or a side effect of the meds.

Well I did a bit of research and unfortunately feel it is a side effect of the meds. Other heart tests our loved one had have revealed nothing. So it is probably due to the new meds.

My fear has always been that her psychiatrist would change her meds due to these side effects. We do not want to go through the hell we experienced 2 years ago. We want our loved one like we have her now. Balanced. Peaceful.

Well, my fears are realized....her psychiatrist changed her meds at her appointment this past week--Only by half a dose and only one of the pills. However we have no idea if this will change her personality again.

I am praying to my God that it will not.

I am crying out to my God to allow her to be who she is and to continue to experience this peace and balance while not experiencing these debilitating side effects.

I have to trust God.
I have to trust this psychiatrist.

It is very difficult to trust and not worry about something I have no control over.

The pain of the ordeal we experienced has surfaced again.

Yet I need to trust and leave this in the hands of God and the psychiatrist.

At least we are prepared if something does go terribly wrong.

We know the drill.

We know the sytem.

We know the pain.

We know we can get to the other side.

But if it should happen again our scars may not heal.

If I had a tattoo on the palm of my right hand...

My trademark is a whale.

 Not just any whale.

But one I have been drawing since I was 12 years old.

 Why? 

My last name is 'Whale'n. All my life everyone has asked me how to spell my last name (And my first for that matter) and I would always say, " It's a whale with an N at the end!" But I already have my whale tattoo on my back which I LOVE! 

So...what tattoo would I put on the palm of my right hand?

I think I would have a handwritten message from each of my Grandmothers' letters they wrote me saying they were praying for me. I would also try to include messages from my parents. Why?

Family and faith is important to me. I loved receiving the hand written letters from my grandmas (my grandfathers died when I was 4 so I barely remember them)over the years and their beautiful words of encouragement to spur me on in my faith and in my life.

My parents give me beautiful cards all the time for every occasion expressing their love for me. When my parents die, which could be soon,  I will have no one left who loves me uncondtionally (except God)!

So I would love a reminder everyday of this love my family had for me to continue to spur me on in my life without them. I want the incredible legacy -the hard times too- to be imprinted on me so I can remember to share that legacy of faith and love with those that come behind me. When I get sad and lonely I want to see their words and know they are in my heart forever and are watching me from above.

In addition, cursive writing here in Canada is becoming obsolete. I feel there is something special seeing peoples' personal handwritten lines. I even bought an old book at an antique store once because I was intrigued by the inscription in the front cover handwritten in fountain pen ink! Cursive writing is unique to each of us and unique to my family. Seeing their writing brings me comfort. 

I will need comfort when they are gone! When I am lost I will look at the palm of my right hand and find my way once again.

Made it safely across the other side

The system failed our family.  The system fails most families having to deal with family members who wrestle with chronic mental illnesses.

However, the story does not end there.

It's been a long journey, from thinking we had to put our loved one into a nursing home to the doctors sending us home. After 3 weeks in the hospital, our loved one is home safe and sound.

 The story does not end there!

Two months since hospital release and our loved one is doing amazing-with a few minor setbacks- but overall amazing.

The story does not end there!

In the time of crisis I felt panicked and barely holding on questioning whether or not this journey would end, questioning why God was allowing this to happen to our family.  Now, on the other side, I am forgetting how terrifying this ordeal was. Funny how that is.  Thankful I forget.

But the story does not end there!

What I do remember is how God's hand was upon us the entire time.  He showed up in big and small ways...

From the moment the police arrived at the scene.  They showed amazing care and sensitivity. They immediately knew they were dealing with someone with a mental illness so called for the special police crisis mental health team-a new initiative with our local police department.  Within minutes this team arrived and were phenomenal with our loved one.

From the moment our loved one was admitted to the hospital-after a few technicalities that needed to be addressed! The nurses and doctors were incredible. In addition, God showed up in a big way by having my close friend in charge of the mental health floor the night our loved one was admitted. She had to be reassigned. However, I know our loved one received excellent care because my friend is highly respected and her staff knew our loved one was a close friend! Our loved one was deeply cared for and the staff supported the family incredibly well, despite the legalities of the mental health act.

From the moment my friends supported us practically by bringing by meals and praying for our loved one.

From the moment a care plan was put in place for our loved one's release, which we felt was too soon and were afraid.

But the story does not end there.

Easing our fear of a relapse, we had the police mental health crisis team, and community agencies follow up to see how all of us were doing.

We were referred to a family support group, which I am still currently attending. It has always been my desire to help other families who have loved ones with mental illnesses because there are practically zero resources for family members. This group has been a God-send.  I was encouraged the other day when one of the group members shared with me how hope-filled she is about her loved one who can lead a normal life now after hearing my story. God's hand. Grateful.

The story does not end there because we may have future setbacks with our loved one. But we are more prepared and we have a plan in place. We have been able to be more open with our friends and family helping to reduce the stigma.  We are hopeful.

We made it safely across the other side witnessing God's hand in this entire journey. I still don't have the answers as to why God has allowed this to happen to our family, but do know there is a reason and I need to trust my God.

The story does not end there.
The story will continue...

The Other Side of the Story: honest, raw, transparent musings about the effect of mental illness on families

I can't remember the moment I began to fear my loved one.  But I remember with great clarity the way this fear made me feel. A rush of thoughts ran through my mind rapidly with panic in its undertone.

"Remember this is her illness." 
"Oh my dear God, my loved one may injure me."
 "Remember this is her illness, it is not personal." 
"Oh my dear God, protect my family." 
"Remember this is her illness." 
"Oh my dear God I cannot call the police on my loved one."
"Remember this is her illness talking." 
"Oh my dear God, help us." 
"Oh my dear God, look into her eyes. They are empty, blank, evil, confused. This is not my loved one standing before me." 
"Remember this is her illness." 
"Oh my dear God, she hates me, her flesh and blood who would do anything for her." 
"Oh my dear God, what are those words coming out of her mouth - horrifying, abusive words she doesn't  know what she is saying." 
"Remember this is not personal, it is her illness, this blasted disease." 
"Oh my dear God, she is saying she wants to end her life."
 "Remember this is her illness." 
"Don't let your fear give you away. Stay calm." 
"Remember this is her illness. It is not her fault."
 "It is not your fault." 
"Keep loving her. Don't stop. Pray you won't remember these terrifying, damaging times." 
"It is her illness taking over her precious mind."

I hate this disease. It is so unfair that it attacks beautiful humans and latches on with all its might. They did nothing to deserve this horrible illness. I hate how it destroys the lives of families. I hate how it destroys and torments the lives of precious humans. I hate there is still a stigma surrounding it. I hate that I have had to keep it secret out of respect for my loved one and for my family.  I can no longer.

The pain is too much.  It is a silent killer. I am slowly watching my loved one die- that vivacious, caring, compassionate, gregarious, organized woman has ceased.

 I hate that as a family our hands are tied and we cannot get our loved one the help she needs until it seems it would be too late.   I understand the Mental Health Act was put in place to stop abuse but it is now hindering families from helping their loved ones. Unless we take drastic measures we have to sit and wait.

And watch.

Watch the frightened look deep in our loved one's eyes and soul. 
Watch her paranoia worsen.  
Watch the helpless feeling she is experiencing but cannot express.  
Watch the depths of her soul know something is terribly wrong with her but for some reason is refusing to get the help she needs.

Over the years our loved one has managed her bipolar disorder. However, as she has aged, specifically this past year, she has not been managing it well at all.

Families are forgotten. In the mismanagement of the disorder, families suffer greatly, if not more, in my opinion. We have to learn to cope with it and constantly figure out the new "mystery" rules our loved one has put in place.  We constantly have to "walk on eggshells" out of fear of what our loved one may do. We constantly are trying to repair fractured friendships.  We are constantly trying to solve embarrassing situations. We are constantly having to sort out the practical living issues that arise due to her illness.  I have to watch my other family members have breakdowns and likewise they have to witness my meltdowns when the stress is too much.  We constantly have to hear horrifying words that pierce straight to our heart and pray they are not absorbed into our spirit.

The way we have learned to cope in order to live with this precious loved one with a horrible disease doesn't always work.  We are learning new ways to cope and learning how to change some of our strategies that have not been useful. However, when it comes to family, it is emotional. So we have to do what needs to be done in order to survive.

We are learning it is okay to share our pain with our community of friends and is not being disrespectful to our loved one. We have to allow these wonderful people sharing this journey with us to make their own conclusions. So we have been pleasantly surprised at the acceptance rather than the judgemental, hurtful stigma we have experienced in the past.  We are grateful they still love our loved one and see past this illness to the true person she was created to be sharing space on this planet.

My exhortation to those of you reading this post is this:

As you walk past a person who seems out of sorts and you want to dismiss them as being crazy, 
think of their family. 

If you are afraid of someone with a mental illness, think of their family. 

And don't be  frightened. They are more like you than you realize.  They are just trapped inside their mind with a horrible disease.

But think of their family.  Their family is just like yours.  No different.

Imagine the suffering their families are having to endure. 

Show compassion not fear.

Offer a genuine smile.

And think of their families.

This is the other side of the story.

****UPDATE****

In the middle of writing this post, our loved one was admitted to the hospital. The police actually picked her up yesterday for driving dangerously (Another blessing because she cannot blame us for taking her to the hospital). It is a long story (and miraculously no one was hurt or killed), but God had every detail in place.  We feel tremendously relieved she is getting the help she needs. It has been difficult to watch but we know she is in good hands now. It has been what we have been praying for all summer. She is safe. We are safe.  We are praying as her mind and body heal she will diligently keep on the meds prescribed to her so she will get back to living her life to the fullest as a "beautiful human person." (Pip Wilson) 

my grocery shopping buddy

February 2011, Heber Down Conservation Area

I was in shock when I entered her room. Her ashen body lay lifeless on the hospital bed. Frail. Faint. Two months ago this sharp, coherent, English woman was much more cognizant of her surroundings. What happened?

Every week for about 2 years I grocery shopped for Jean Fugol, a senior confined to her home. It may sound strange but I LOVE grocery shopping. So I eagerly anticipated this time each week where I would have a visit with Jean and then shop for her needs. Some weeks she was full of chatter and would share of her days gone by. I quickly learned Jean was a very wise woman and I enjoyed hearing of her life in England before immigrating to Canada.

Advice flowed eagerly and gently from her lips. I am thankful I was taught to revere the elderly at an early age. Those who have gone on before us are rich in knowledge and I welcome their life stories and advice. One thing Jean always said to me was, "enjoy your life now and travel before your body does not allow you anymore." I heeded her advice! She loved to hear of my travel adventures, especially to Paris! Jean also LOVED the way I dressed and told me she was living vicariously through me!

Jean had minor surgery in the summer and never fully recovered. I really don't know why. I think it was a combination of limited care in the hospital and the fact Jean just gave up on life. She told me her family rarely visited her, in fact, I think I visited her more than her family and my visits weren't as frequent as I wanted. This loneliness and rapid decline in her health was sad to watch.

So many elderly in nursing homes and hospitals are left alone by their family members. It is a shame. A shame that they who gave birth to their children, who sacrificed everything for their children, end up alone. A shame. A tragedy really.

Jean died last week. I know she is in a much better place now and I know this English woman is full of vibrant joy once again!

Jean, you'll be happy to know I'm planning another travel adventure soon! Rest in peace my friend. I love you and miss you!

For Jean...

Kensington Market, vintage shops, Toronto, ON, May 2009

:)

Just another Manic 'Sunday'

(Whitby,ON Entrance to the public library)

It's that manic time of year. Predictable. Yet its appearance seems totally unexpected, causing undo familial stress. We breathe through the pain as it will soon pass. AND we cling to the One who promised this:

"What does the Lord your God require of you? Only to walk in all His ways, to love Him, to serve the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul...for your own well being." (Deuteronomy 10:12-13) Continue on in the path, My son. It is a good path, and leads onward toward our mutual goal. Calm your fears, child. I am here and will be here always and all the way. Deo Gratias (Echoes of Eternity Volume 2, Hal M. Helms, 1996)

Happy Thanksgiving

Today we Canadians celebrate Thanksgiving. I have had a fabulous Thanksgiving weekend, especially savouring my dad's tantilizing turkey and my mom's palatable pumpkin pie. (I do think she makes the best pumpkin pie!) Tonight I am off to friends for our annual soccer game and pizza feast! Thanksgiving is an opportunity to give thanks for all the good things in our lives, the hard times in our lives that have made us stronger, the freedoms we abundantly enjoy and the opportunity to gather with family and friends celebrating each other.

However, for me Thanksgiving means more than these things. My parents have always extended pure, unconditional hospitality to those without family close by or those who are less fortunate each year. I am grateful for their unselfish spirit of generosity. It is a beautiful gift. I have to confess I am a wee bit more selfish than they. I'm not sure how that happened along the path of my life's journey! Don't get me wrong, I love entertaining, I love people but am a bit more protective of my time.

This year, we enjoyed two different sets of people at our dinner table throughout the weekend, one planned and one unexpected- late last night actually. Weary was I when I climbed into bed, yet somehow I felt refreshed and rejuevenated! I care about people, I love helping people and I love hearing their life story. Thanksgiving has taught me to go back to that place where I know the core of my being is unselfish and open to the lives surrounding me. When we give in this way, we are blessed beyond our expectations. Thankful am I.

The Magic of Memories and Muskoka Chairs

Muskoka Chair (or as my US neighbours call it, Adirondack Chair) August 2010, Port Sydney, ON

The last few weeks have been a whirlwind. Hosting my cousins from Northern Ireland was wonderful, but I must admit, a bit exhausting. I started back to work in the middle of their visit, which proved to be a bit crazy! I am glad to be back to work and back to the fall routines mind you! One of the highlights during my cousins' visit was our camping expedition to the resort I spent all my summers at when I was a pre-teen/teenager! I hadn't camped there in years. Those were some of the best summers of my life.

Memory is an amazing gift. As I ambled down the steep, dirt pathways of the trailer park through the forest on our way to the beach, I recounted to my cousin the many crazy adventures I experienced at this "cottage country" get-a-way...

jumping off the rope swing...cliff diving off the rocks of the Canadian Shield...sunbathing in the Muskoka chairs on the beach...skinny dipping...campfires...s'mores...singing around the campfire...hayrides...horse back riding...honeymoon trail...summer friends...fresh air...clear view of the bright starry sky...chipmunks eating out of your hand...raccoons rummaging through our garbage... swimming out to the dock at dusk...Friday the 13th scare through the forest paths...Midnight Madness in Huntsville... cruising into Huntsville via the river and through the locks...Port Sydney rapids...Port Sydney beach Sundays...great 80's music like Bryan Adams, The Police...breathtaking fall colours...cross country skiing in the middle of winter...winter youth retreats...aawww...sigh...

The magic of memories made me realize I was truly "home."

Mary Lake, Port Sydney, Ontario, August 2010

is it really the end of summer? back to work already?

Saturday August 21, 2010 Tommy Hilfiger, Outlet Mall, Niagara Falls, ON

I am grateful for my job and grateful for the holidays we receive. I must confess, and this may sound strange, it is hard to go back to work (September 7th, my birthday!) after having the summer off. Don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining, but I wish I could retire VERY early! Since that isn't an option, I am anticipating the arrival of my cousins from Northern Ireland tomorrow. It will be a great way to end my fantabulous summer! Cheerio for now!

be careful what you wish for

My Christmas wish sort of came true today. My parents and I received an email 3 weeks ago from my brother which stated, "Time has a way of soothing. I would like to connect and move forward if you are willing..."

You can imagine our excitement. My brother was "coming home." Over the years I prayed for reconciliation but truthfully, most of my prayers were prayed flippantly and with cynicism. My brother can be a stubborn sort!

We met my brother for coffee today. It didn't go well at all. **sigh** I'm very disappointed. Clearly my brother is not ready to move forward. There are still unwritten expectations that need to be dismantled, on both sides truthfully. However, it was next to impossible to share our perspectives because my brother would interrupt and shut the conversation down. It was so frustrating. I must say I was proud of my parents. They did handle themselves well. I was a wee bit worried! There were a few things they would have been best not to mention, but that is their way and their generation! One thing I observed- their love for their son. It was free flowing, unconditional. But, my brother was blinded by defensiveness to see it. **sigh** It was heartbreaking things didn't turn out the way we hoped.

My dad ended up having a reaction to all the stress later in the afternoon. He began to shake uncontrollably, was feverish and sick to his stomach. He was very disappointed too. I'm not sure why my brother wanted to meet us if he wasn't ready to move on. But, I am continuing to trust God in this matter. He has started to soften my brother's heart, soften my parent's hearts, soften my heart and has started the healing process in our family. I don't understand. It is painful to see the hurt in my parents' eyes. But, I have to continue to trust the One who heals broken lives.

I hate this dissension in my family. Life isn't suppose to turn out this way! There are no guarantees are there when you raise your children? Parents do the best they can. My parents raised us well. Sure, they weren't perfect but who is. We were loved, cared for and given all we could ever dream or imagine. I am grateful for my upbringing. I find it strange that siblings can grow up in the same environment yet have totally different perspectives on how they were raised.

*sigh* One day we will have the best homecoming ever! I have to believe that.

Summer 2010 Thus Far!

**click on collage to gain a better view of the pics**

** some of my summer activities thus far:**

~ tour of Camp X, the WWII Spy Training School
~ outdoor Yoga at Parkwood Estate
~ shopping in Toronto
~ swimming at Centennial Pool
~ watching the Fifa World Cup final match (the pic is in top row and tiny!)
~ hanging with family and friends
~ visiting the library
~ outdoor Shakespeare theatre at Parkwood
~ pampering myself
~ volunteering for Community Care
~ jamming with local bands
~touring the local countryside
~ remodelling
~ road trips
~ gastronomy pleasures
~ soaking up the beauty of nature around me
~ just chillin'
~ watching the never-ending construction of a church on the same property as my apartment
~ savoring summertime memories

visit with American cousins in Kittaning, PA

Last weekend, I went on a road trip with my folks travelling down the Alleghany River in Pennslyvania, USA. Final stop: a small town nestled on the banks of this gorgeous river where my dad's cousins live. Enjoy the photo collage of this latest adventure.
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Some noteworthy observations about life in smalltown USA:
* the old country church (circa 1872) we attended Sunday morning had air conditioning but no indoor plumbing. Their outhouse was the first I'd been in that was carpeted! It was a "pleasure" doing business in there!
* the graves at the church cemetery are marked with American flags and special badges if the deceased was a war veteran
* you can't get away from fried food
* everyone is so friendly and willing to help, esp. while shopping at the Walmart
* the sales are INCREDIBLE and 100% better than in Canada
* the court house square reminds me of "Back to the Future"
* only my parents will plan a party in their hotel room for the whole clan!
*everyone is patriotic and speaks their mind-out loud!
I like that!

PS Click on the collage and it will enlarge so you can actually see some of the pics!

my christmas wish - for my brother - come home, come home

come home, come home
please forgive
please let grace abide
no room for bitterness
no room for stubbornness
no room for anger
no room
unconditional love awaits
it never left
even though hearts broke
into a million little pieces
please try to understand
the illness
no one's fault
let the One mend our pain
let the One mend our anger
let the One mend our stubbornness
give the One our past
give the One our bitterness
let it fly far, far away
into the abyss
unconditional love awaits
arms are wide open
let the One heal our family bond
before there are deep regrets
before it's too late
life is precious
it is a gift
a gift to our future generations
please come home
come home
that is my Christmas wish

***Epilogue: I love how the writing process works. This post began very differently. I was to write about my observations at a recent cousin's funeral, where their family was shattered because of unforgiveness. I was deeply moved. I am the peacemaker in my family so, I decided to write to my brother via this blog regarding some of our familial dysfunction. It was somewhat accusatory. However, a still small voice within kept saying these words to me, "come home, come home." So here is how that still small voice directed me! I have no idea if my brother even reads my blog but somewhere out there I hope he is listening with openness. I chose this pic to go along with this post because my dear sweet "S" is the essence of "home" here on earth where unconditional love, forgiveness and grace abide. Peace. May God's peace abide in our lives forever.***

Happy Mother's Day!

A sampling photo story of the Mother's Day surprise adventure my dad and I took mom on today. We love you mom! I am grateful for the way my mom ( and dad) raised me. I am grateful for their unconditional love. I am grateful I still get to hang out with them and laugh! We had a wonderful day!

First stop...a visit to her mother's grave...I couldn't resist taking this photo of my mom laying flowers on the grave!We thought the placement of this sign in the cemetary washroom was hilarious...Joining friends for dinner... Another interesting sign along the way...
Picnic lunch at the Boardwalk and stroll through Kew Beach Park...




poppies

tiptoe through the tulips...

The old horse drinking fountain now converted to a human fountain!

an interesting shaped tree in the park...

mom on the beach...

watching a couple fly a kite...

enjoying our picnic lunch...

age old love...

old ruined buildings downtown Toronto...