Once upon a Christmas….

“For you’re a jolly good fellow,
For you’re a jolly good fellow,
For you’re a jolly good fellow,
Which nobody can deny.

Which nobody can deny.
Which nobody can deny.
For you’re a jolly good fellow,
For you’re a jolly good fellow,
For you’re a jolly good fellow,
Which nobody can deny.”

Standing just to the side of my parents – I felt dizzy as the blur of faces moved in a circle around us. Somehow in my 8 year old mind I new that something was changing and somehow my life would never be the same again…

Earlier in the day I had stood with my grandmother in her kitchen as she rolled out a fragrant dough on her kitchen counter – “they are for the doughnuts Baverly that I am making for the party tonight”…. but something just didn’t feel right and although I don’t remember my grandmother saying any more – her face at that moment – I don’t think I will ever forget – she looked so sad. This did not feel like a party!

As I look back on those early days of my childhood, I have very few concrete memories – just flashes in my mind of pictures – as if flipping through a photo album on high speed. But somewhere in those first 8 years of my life, I was touched to the core of my very being. Something in those first 8 years created the mold of the person I am today. (I know that the years that followed helped to fill the mold – but there was something in those very early years that touched me deeply – and which over the years my mind keeps going back for…as if searching for that one special moment, that one special word, that one special touch….)

Digging deep into the reality of my today I know that I still search and somehow it is all connected to the reason that I am so adamant about creating memories for my children….and the funny thing about creating these memories is that they are not planned… they are just moments that happen, and one thing rolls into another, almost without a conscious thought from me, and before I can blink the moment is over and the memory created.

Perhaps my search really is not for that one special moment, word or touch but a feeling that I had in one of those days, of the early years of my childhood. A feeling that I had in those first years of my life that I keep searching for, keep trying to recreate…

This feeling that I keep searching for… trying to touch… trying to understand, even perhaps with that 8 year olds mind… the closest I ever come to it is at Christmas time.

For as long as I can remember Christmas has been my favorite holiday – but not for the presents, food or even the people that are around, but the feeling that starts to come to light from somewhere deep inside – to the point where I can almost identify it – and then as quick as it comes… it almost disappears – just standing there on the edge of my being seemingly to taunt… catch me if you can.

The odd thing about this is that I really don’t remember to much about Christmas from my childhood. I know we had a tree, had a big dinner, spent the time with family and friends… but try as I might there is no one thing that stands out in my mind that would make this holiday so close to my heart.

In many ways I suppose I have captured this feeling… or at least partial and have given it as if a gift to each of my children, for if you ask any one of them what is your favorite holiday, they will each without hesitation say ‘Christmas!’

My grandmother is much the same as this feeling – perhaps in the mind of that 8 year old little girl they are one and the same. Most everyone I know, knows that my grandmother is very dear to my heart – she is somehow even to this day, even though she has long since passed, woven into the core of my being. She is the one person in this life that I strive to be like – but in today’s reality the one I know the least! I have my early childhood memories of her, but like I said they are not concrete memories, I have a few from when I was older and we would visit with her…. but after 8 years old I only seen her for about a week every few years or so.

She used to call me Baverly – taking the first ‘e’ in my name and turning it into a drawn out ‘a’ – so it sounded like Baa-verly – I don’t know if it was the way she meant to pronounce it, or if it just happened naturally with her Albertan accent – but she is the only one that did it and it sends chills through my being just to think of it, for her voice is so clear in my head.

I wonder now as I type this if perhaps that 8 year old little girl somehow pegged Christmas and her Grandmother as one and the same?

Soon after the above song was sung… that 8 year old little girl climbed into the back seat of her fathers new car… and the family left. We were moving – two provinces away (http://listingsca.com/maps.asp) from Alberta to Manitoba (if you look at the map we were living close to Calgary and were moving close to Churchill) – Now this by looking at the map is not really that far away – but for that 8 year old little girl it might just as of well been half the world away. I never seen my grandmother again after that night for 5 years, an eternity for a little girl – the little girl that still lives in me…

(I originally wrote the above in 2005 but feel it is worth repeating again.)

A Mothers Heart…

Intertwined in my soul – in my total being – my children have created this mother’s heart.

Teriena – my eldest daughter. Born when I was but 17…. soon she will be 33. The mother of my two eldest grand daughters. A beautiful person inside and out. She has been through, and is still I believe going through rough times. But she has been there for me like a friend. Her and I talk almost every day. She is a very wise woman with a kind and soft soul. You may have seen her name pop up in my blog comments. Teri — terienalynn. New to blogging – still finding her way. Take the time if you will to visit her — she will warm your heart. I have so many things in my heart and soul to tell her – I tell her a lot through my blog. I think she finds the messages – I know she understands. I cannot even begin to put into words the depth of emotion I feel for this eldest daughter of mine.

Shelley (known in my heart as Deborah) – My second daughter born when I was 19, and who I gave up for adoption when she was born (I will share this story here one day). The mother of my only grandson and youngest granddaughter. Over the past few years we have gotten to know one another, and it stops my heart to see how much like her mother she is – in looks and mannerism. Uncanny! She is on her own road to self discovery — even if she really does not know it, she is trying to make sence of all the why’s in the world. You may have also seen her name in my comments – shepet – She is also new to the blogging world and still finding her way. She would be thrilled I’m sure if you would visit. I have answered all of her questions about the adoption, and for the most part I think she understands, but I think there is still something way down deep that she is trying to find the answers for – emotions that she is trying to make sence of – living in two worlds is not easy for her. She will find her way – and perhps through my blog she will find some of the answers to the questions she never knew she had. She is loved – more than words could ever say – I hope she understands.

Sharlyn – My third daughter, born when I was 25 and now 25 herself and soon to become a mother for the first time, with my 5th grandchild. This daughter of mine was born exactly two weeks late, but has not slowed down since. Full of life and calm outlook on life she has been through some rough times in her life, and no doubt will have many more hills to climb. She is the one who is really the daddy’s girl in the family, although as of late she and I have become fairly close. When small she used to sob when she could not go to work with her dad, or any other place for that matter, great big heart wrenching sobs. She has a passion for life that I hope never leaves her. She is a wonderful young lady and will be a wonderful mother to baby pickles. In many ways she reminds me of myself in my younger years – before life kicked in. The range of emotion I feel for this daughter of mine is unmeasurable.

Brittany – My youngest daughter, born when I was 27. I call her my redheaded spit fire. The only true redhead child Jamie and I have and a gemini like her mom and dad, she is full of life, and carries the many gemini traits.  Brittany is our homebody girl, and since she was little liked to be close to home and her family. She has a passion for animals that is beyond this world, soft spirited now that she has grown older, but never one to back down from a challenge. She fights for what she believes in and on most occassions wins. She has the ability to ‘feel’ things much like her mother. The depth of emotion I feel for this youngest daughter of mine is beyond what I could have ever imagined.

Benjamin – My youngest child and only son born when I was 29. Said to have been a twin before he was born, he holds this mothers heart in his hands. A kind and soft soul who is still finding his way in life.  Not one for conflict or seeing someone in his family hurting – be it a sibling in trouble or a pet who is dying – each event affects him deeply. My mother-in-law once said to me, “Watch out for those eyes” back then I laughted, now I understand! I cannot even begin to put into words what this youngest child of mine means to me. I hope as he gets older he will really begin to understand.

And so there you have it – an introduction to my children — the heart of my heart!

7 Random Things….

I’ve been tagged again!

 This time by Bibliomom who was tagged by Jaynova  who was tagged by Stevo who was tagged by… and on and on it goes!

1. My favorite color is purple
2. My favorite flower is lilac
3. I am self taught in html and xml
4. I have hair down to my waist
5. I only eat peas raw standing in my own garden – never cooked
6. I hate things on my feet including socks
7. I hated typing class in school

I am tagging the following people:

David – because he is a really nice person who deserves the visits!
Scout – you had to know it was coming

I am going to break the rules and not tag 5 more. You guys need a break from the tagging. But if you want to jump on the band wagon I say go for it!

The Rules:

Post these rules on your blog.
List seven random and/or weird facts about yourself.
Tag seven random [?] people at the end of your post and include links to their blogs.
Let each person know that they have been tagged by posting on comment on their blog.

Hanging In…

Even as the end of November quickly approaches, the oak leaves are still hanging in there. Not willing to let go, nor to give up the fight. Even as the color fades from the days of their youth, they do not give up!

What a wonderful lesson – one that most of us could use.

It has been rough here the last while – but like those oak leaves – even though I am faded from my youth, I am not giving up. I will continue the fight.

Now moving on from that….

Reading back over my blog it at times sounds like things here are terrible, dark, and so very depressing.

They are not!

It seems that I am in a stage of my life of self exploration, a journey we all take  – several times throughout our lives. Along this journey there are many doors we need to open along the way. Sometimes these doors have been closed for a very long time, locked if you will.

For me these locked doors hold a lot of emotion – emotion that needs to be rediscovered, relived and most of all put to rest.

It is in these times that I write. Not write like an author of a great book, but one of deep raw emotion – I write as a form of talking to myself and communicating to others. Sometimes I write for my children, so that one day they will know that their mother was a real person, beyond the comforting arms that hold them when they are hurting. Sometimes I write to vent out something that if frustrating me and I need to make sence of it all in my own mind. I write for self healing. Healing for whatever is hurting at the moment. When my muse is on mission she goes crazy with words!

Most of the time when I write I start with a blank piece of paper, or blank computer screen and just shut everything else out and let my fingers go at it. I don’t think or closely choose my words – I give them the freedom to flow. Sometimes the words don’t make sence, but mostly they do.

I write for myself – I write for you.

I write to reach out – not only to others but to myself.

So moving on… there are three areas of my life that are causing me greif right now.

1) My mom – she is having a real hard time with her health right now. I am not a doctor, I cannot make her better. It breaks my heart to see her in this condition.

2) My third daughter (Sharlyn) – it breaks this mothers heart to see this daughter so sad. I cannot make her better – I can only be there for her, support her, and offer her comfort when she needs it. I know things will be ok for her and for baby pickles, I know because I have been where she is. I understand, and perhaps that is why my heart breaks. I know this is a scar on her heart that will remain with her for the rest of her life – but a scar that over time will fade.

3) My son (Benjamin) – who still needs to learn the lesson that home is not the lions den, but a soft and very safe landing spot. I hope on his journey to be a man he will remember all the lessons he learned over the years. I cannot learn these lessons for him, these he has to do on his own. I cannot make it better for him, and for this my heart is broken. He is my only son, my last born – I cannot help it I am a mother – I worry!

So my mood here over the last little while is a reflection of the 3 above things – but I remain like the oak leaves – I hang on!

I have many, many positive things going on in my life right now as well – things that help me make it through each day – things that pull me through, things that I totally appreciate! These will be the subject of my next post.

Silent Reminder…

It is told that when I was a few months over a year old, I was still not walking on my own. It was my grandmother who solved the problem.

I was able to stand, and walk quite well while holding onto a single finger of another person, so my grandmother took me for a walk one day, but instead of offering her finger to me for balance she handed me the other end of a piece of string she held in her hand.

Happily that toddler took that end of string, and with all the security in the world walked with her grandmother. After a time the grandmother dropped her end of the string. The toddler walked on with no problems. For several weeks the toddler would revert back to crawling or walking around furniture until someone handed her the piece of string, and then off she would go. Then one day the toddler dropped the string.

It was on that day she learned to fly! The world was hers…..

( – taken through the library window)

I think of my grandmother often. I miss her dearly, but she is never far from me. The lessons she taught me stay with me today. When I feel alone in the world it is her voice that I hear whispering in my ear – reminding me of that piece of string – reminding that I can do it – that I am not alone – that I will always have that piece of string and can use it when ever I need it.

Yesterday I went into the kitchen. Opened the drawer and pulled out the box that held the string that Jamie and I keep in the kitchen. I pulled out a length, cut it, held it in my hand with my eyes closed I thought of my grandmother. Again I heard her voice. 

After a time I put the string in my pocket.

I think I will keep the piece of string close to me for a little while – a silent reminder – one that I need right now.

With this I will move forward — what about you?

If you could see into tomorrow – would you dare to look? Would you be to afraid to take the next step?

If I had only known I ….

I cannot count the many of times that I have wished I could see into the future, to know where I was headed – what was yet to come. I also cannot count the times that I have said if I had only known I …

I cannot change the past nor can I see into the future. It was what it was, it is what it will be.

The only thing I can do is live in the moment, and make the best choices for that moment.  The moments of if I had only known are done – finished – cannot be changed. I did what was right at the time with the information I had. I cannot continue to beat myself up for those things.

Tomorrow will come, and new things will surface. Life will go – the moon will rise and the sun will set. The seasons will continue to pass.

Each day our bank of hours is set to 24. We get no more. When they are gone, they are gone, slipping forever into the yesterdays we cannot go back to.

How many hours have we wasted in our lives wishing we could change something from the past, or wishing we could see into the future? Hours that we gave away from our bank of today?

We can dwell on the things we didn’t say, or even the things we did – but unless we learn from those things and continue to move forward those hours are wasted.

I continue to move forward. This is something that I decided many years ago that I needed to do. Not for anyone else, but for myself. I cannot change the things in the past, I cannot predict the future – I have come to peace with this.

I have learned, the hard way, that before I can forgive anyone or anything, first I need to forgive myself. For the most part I have done this, although there are still a few little things that linger, but I am working on those.

This day only has 24 hours – I plan to make the best of each of them. When this hour is done I will leave it where it belongs and move onto the next. I will try with all my might to make that hour better than this one – and with this I will move forward — what about you?