Striving for Peace

"When we see that God has been with us all along, guiding our steps and directing our paths, we come to more fully trust Him and turn our attention to find Him more quickly in each new phase life brings." 

~ P. Schrier "Anointed, Transformed, Redeemed"

.

The sun is shining today and if I look out the South West window from my vantage point on the second floor, turn my head awkwardly to the right and lean to the left as far as I can, I see the mountains in the distance. Well, sort of; it's definitely a stretch on many levels.   The older two boys are at school and the younger two are (supposedly) having a quiet time.  This is definitely a moment meant to be enjoyed for its peacefulness.  

A moment of peace in Fish Creek Park (October)

Undoubtedly, I don't take it for granted.  

I find myself somehow in the middle of a new season of my life and, in many ways, can't comprehend how life could be so different from what it once was a year ago (and the year before that).  

Despite all of the settling in we've been so active at pursuing, I am still feeling a sense of being in transition.  My heart strings are definitively attached to a community more than eight hours to the North and yet my weekly schedule is falling into place in a small community in the South East of Calgary.  I am so thankful to be meeting wonderful new friends but I am crestfallen when my thoughts inevitably (and frequently) fall back to family. It is, at many times, a most lonely kind of a feeling.  I find it a struggle to catch up with my email as I begin to think about geography, so I frequently avoid it (only to find that my procrastinating leads to an intimidatingly full inbox as I had no idea how many advertisers and the like have my contact information).  It is a challenge to go online.  

In this, I am trying to sort out my feelings.  My gratefulness is complete in so many ways for what God has done in my life.  To benchmark where I am in health in comparison to last year is astounding.  I am in awe of all He has done - the healing that has been gifted to me.  In my Beth Moore 'Anointed' study this week, we personalized Psalm 30.  It was anything but a stretch for me.  My current health being what it is, there are times where I cannot conceive where I once was in my illness.  The depths of that time are now, for the most part, only a shadow in my memories.  I have been blessed immeasurably more than I could've ever imagined; yet there is a human part of me that seems to be longing for even more.  Perhaps this is in reaction to what I feel has been lost along the way.

Dealing with loss is a challenging prospect.  

In this vein, I attended a workshop of sorts on Striving for Peace.  I greatly appreciated the content of the powerpoint and felt as though the presenter - a recently graduated doctor of clinical psychology - adequately and thoroughly explored the topic.  Understandably, the main point of the workshop was to evaluate the causes of negative stress; which was defined as: "[situations where] the expectations placed on you are greater than what you think your ability is to deal with them".

In the evaluation of this kind of stress, three factors were presented:

1.  Different stressors [which lead to]

2.  Responses [in particular, our thinking patterns]

3.  Coping styles [encouragingly, we were given several different techniques to cope with stress in an accurate and positive way].

For the most part, the presenter spoke clearly to my experiences.  In one area, however, I have to say that it was evident that her applied experiences with stress did not mesh with her academic understanding of the topic.  It certainly isn't a critique; unless you've been in the trenches of certain types of stress, it's impossible to really understand what that experience is like. The area which illustrated this was in her perception of the events which cause us stress (i.e. the different stressors which lead to our responses and then to our coping styles).  

Many of the events that cause negative stress can be less stressful if we temper our responses to them.  However, some events are just inherently (and unavoidably) stressful.  I will give an example from personal experience.  Last weekend I decided to go and get groceries with the kids.  I thought it would be a good experience for the older two boys and that the younger two would benefit from the outing, too.  To be honest, and especially in retrospect, I have no idea what I was thinking. 

As I needed other household items, I went to one of the larger stores here in Calgary.  Unfortunately, it was one of the stores that has carts which only seat one child at a time.  This is doubly unfortunate when both older brothers want to push, but one seated child refuses to be pushed by anyone but mom.  Nevertheless and miraculously, we somehow make it through the store, able to check off almost everything on the list, and get through to the checkout (me, undeniably sweating and frazzled) in one haphazard motley piece.  With the older two tossing items onto the belt (oh, the poor bread), the youngest trying to climb out of his cart into his brother's, the middle child wanting to push every button on the credit card machine, and a line-up forming behind me, the pressure was on.  It got to the unbearable range when I reached for my credit card and could not find it.  

There are no words.

As I am on the verge of melt-down looking for said tiny piece of plastic, praying for rescue, my eldest is distractedly walking towards those wonderful coin-operated-devices at the front of the store, my toddler is throwing his Thomas toothpaste onto the floor (and crying for it back), the youngest is still trying to climb out in escape and the second born (the spirited one) is vying for candy.  And I still haven't found my credit card. 

This is negative stress.

No matter what thought process or coping technique I pair with it, moments of my life such as this one make me fully aware that the expectations placed on me are greater than my ability to deal with them. Period.

I was more than a little thankful to find that credit card seconds later (though it felt like an eternity) tucked into a little book in my pocket (I had put it in my pocket to make it faster at the check out - ha!), fully aware that it was God's grace (and a lot of prior training in patience) that I didn't lose it in full scale melt down mode at the check out line.  

My life is messy and I will be in a continual pursuit of striving for Peace.  I am thankful I don't have to seek it on my own.  I am thankful that when negative stress occurs (and it will... and from experience, I understand that it will happen daily), I can use techniques such as reframing thoughts and reformulating; but more than anything, I am thankful that I can take the experiences that have challenged me and stretched me in ways that I never would've imagined and know that God is going to carry me through the ones I am facing today and tomorrow.  

In the study I mentioned above, Priscilla Schrier said this:

"God seems to specialize in putting us in positions where we must rely on His work in us. I'm learning that when God wants to show Himself in living color, He works through us. He purposefully puts us in a place where we will have to depend on Him to accomplish the task at hand, therefore seeing His greatness and turning our worship more fully toward Himself."

It is a good thing to know.  Because life - and perhaps especially life with four young boys - can be significantly messy and stressful.  Perhaps there is no better way to reframe thoughts or reformulate a situation than that in knowing that there is purpose in the challenges, stress and messes of daily life.  

Meaningfulness in the perfectly imperfect; this is a kind of peace I can confidently journey towards.  

Same kid as the photo above at the lake in September (a perfectly messy moment)

Thanksgiving

As long as thanks is possible, then joy is always possible.”
― Ann Voskamp, One Thousand Gifts: A Dare to Live Fully Right Where You Are

Thankfulness.  It's a theme that runs deep in this season of my life.  I am thankful for the big stuff: the celebration of family and friends; the arrival of a new life so deeply prayed for; the happy news I hear about for the ones I care so much about.  

I am thankful for the little things: the huge grin on my eldest's face as he runs home from school; the excitement of my second born as he sees his friend on skype; the laughter of little boys at play; the fall sunshine; the sound of birdsong.

I'm in the middle of reading a book entitled One Thousand Gifts.  The prose is intense and I have to admit that I am savouring the read ~ one chapter at a time.  The dare presented by the author: to live fully right where you are.  

So much has happened in a year.  It is impossible not to be thankful when I take a moment to consider the journey, the healing, and the health improvements I've experienced.  There are still moments of chest pressure; but they are few and mild ~ most likely a reflection of the Gerdes component of my condition.  I reflect on the PE every so often; I still wear my medic alert bracelet, I continue to take my warfarin and I still sift through the shadows (and revelations) that resulted in that summer of last.

For the most part, we are now settling into a routine.  The older boys are enjoying school and the younger boys are exploring, discovering and learning in the wonderful way of the toddler.  As in so many other seasons of late, I haven't found much time for email, facebook or blogging, but I have been thinking a great deal about the amazing people in my life.  It happens when I'm at the sink washing dishes or at the washing machine throwing in another load... and I am thankful.  

The running I had started mid-summer has transformed into the kind of mama-on-the-run-packing-lunches-sorting-laundry kind of running.  Running the bath water, running in the leaves after my boys, running the dishwasher, running ragged...  

Running a household.  

I do not easily forget how a year ago, the simple motions of domestic life were all but impossible.  I do not forget the hot meals arriving at my door, the hands holding those of my sons, the words of encouragement and, most importantly, I do not forget the love. 

I am thankful.  

I am filled with thanks.

“Eucharisteo—thanksgiving—always precedes the miracle.” 
― Ann Voskamp, One Thousand Gifts: A Dare to Live Fully Right Where You Are

Running

I was in the middle of composing an email to a dear friend of mine from my long ago university days, explaining how things have been going, when I realized that I hadn't updated this blog for quite some time.

The brief update is that things are going well.  Arden is busy at work, I am busy with the boys, and the boys are busy exploring, playing and enjoying the long days of summer.

We are in temporary housing for the moment which has been very good as it is a house with a large backyard and a playground around the corner.  We have been so thankful to have had a wonderful visit with Miss Sally over Stampede week and have been warmly welcomed to Calgary by family and friends.

Our time in Calgary has been highlighted by trips to the zoo, visits with family & friends (and friends who are family), and exploration with Arden in his evenings and weekends off (yay!); these photos are from a trip we took to Bragg Creek's Elbow Falls.

We won't be settled into our new house until August 15th (or at least that's possession date... I imagine it will be quite a few weeks of settling in) but I am looking forward to the next chapter.  One of the biggest blessings of this season is that I am accessing some good health care (or at least easily accessible, which seems amazing; no one could ever replace my current physician in Fort McMurray for all she has done with regards to my care) and I am feeling significantly better physically these days.  It has been a long road up from the pulmonary embolism.

My new family physician seems very competent and helpful; he was surprised by my medical history (which, when put onto an intake form, does seem extensive and unusual) and was even more surprised when I presented all of my related paperwork.  He called me an "A+ patient" whereas I explained the need I've had to be advocating for my health, which is why I have all of my paperwork.  It has been helpful for me and for the doctors that I have seen as I have been receiving treatment and I am very grateful to have all of the information.

Getting in to see a hematologist less than two weeks of finding a regular family physician was amazing.  Amazing.   What was more amazing was the in depth explanation that I received from the specialist.  He explained - for the first time - the complexities of my case and the science behind my choices (my choices!  which are significantly limited, but it was helpful to have them presented to me) for anticoagulation treatment.  He confirmed the need for me to be taking Coumadin/Warfarin long term - most likely indefinitely - and broke down the elements of why and how.  I walked out of his clinic beaming and relieved.

Perhaps it is odd to be relieved as I am no further ahead in finding out what triggered or caused my pulmonary emboli and being anticoagulated indefinitely has some risks of its own (primarily bleeding), but to finally find myself understanding my case from a logical, linear angle - coming from a specialist who was able to take the whole of the information and translate it for me - has made a huge difference in how I feel about my health.

I have been feeling better.  Significantly, amazingly better.  So much better that I've started running.  Me.  Running.  It seems completely miraculous given how I felt at this time last year.  My lungs aren't yet what they used to be (nor is my physical ability); when I began running the year after my second child was born, I seemed to be able to run a lot more effectively, faster. In fact, most of my running is in spurts between walking. I have a ways to go... especially since I literally pulled a muscle in yanking on my special support stockings last week.  I laughed at the situation and, after the pain subsided, still went out for my run.

The positive news expands in many areas: from the wonderful blessing of little Elijah being born (and three other beautiful baby boys added to the FBC family!) to the older boys having the opportunity to be enrolled in the school I was hoping for.  In the midst of all of the positive news, there's a lot of hard aspects yet to be worked out. Amongst many other areas, my second born's necessary extraction of two front teeth as well as the challenges of the move still persist.  Missing my Fort McMurray family often weighs heavy on me.  That's why I am keeping on running in every area of my life.  Choosing joy, hope, and peace involve a continual maturing process of discipline... something I am learning through the discipline of motherhood, the endurance on my road to recovery, and a work-in-progress dedication to my running.

For the moment all discipline seems painful rather than pleasant, but later it yields the peaceful fruit of righteousness to those who have been trained by it.  Therefore lift your drooping hands and strengthen your weak knees, and make straight paths for your feet, so that what is lame may not be put out of joint but rather be healed.  ~Hebrews 12:11-13 

Walking

"Nothing makes the earth seem so spacious as to have friends at a distance; they make the latitudes and longitudes." – Henry David Thoreau

Time for an update.  After many weeks and months of waiting, everything seems to be moving incredibly quickly.  I have been so grateful that things are coming together in all the big (and even some of the little) ways.  Our Fort McMurray house is on the market.  Our temporary housing in Calgary has been arranged.  Our house in Calgary has been purchased (and I can't wait until the boys get to see it!).  

It has certainly been a journey in faith: buying a house sight unseen, waiting for each step of the relocation process to be completed, and journeying through some more health challenges (we've had more than a small amount of illness through the house and then my INR, the test for blood thinness, spiked to over 5.5 when it should stay between 2 and 3 - yikes).  It has also been a busy journey (I apologise for not being very good at communications these days) and it feels like there's just not enough time to do all that I really would like to do before we make our way down south.  

This past weekend I was fortunate to finally go to Calgary for the first time since coming to Alberta.  Despite the fact I was intensely ill, it was a phenomenally good weekend; I attribute the good primarily to the girls who took me to the Beth Moore Living Proof Live conference (and to the conference itself).  I felt blessed immeasurably more than I had ever felt in my entire life as I found myself in that place, knowing that things were coming together for the first time in what seems a very long time.  

Lacking in time, I can't cover all that I learned at the conference, but the topic for the time was rooted in 2 John and grounded in the concept of walking.  Through the sessions we learned that walking is a theology, not just an activity and, amongst other really core concepts, we learned about the importance of investing your entire life walk into love.   For more about Beth, check out the Living Proof Blog here.    

We're scheduled to leave in less than two weeks.  And as we go, I've had a great deal of time to think about saying goodbye.  Honestly, I'm not liking the idea at all.  So I'll take a page out of my Beth Moore conference book and camp on the concept that we're walking home as we're walking here.   To me that means I don't have to say "goodbye", I can say "see you later" as we go forward on this journey.    

"Don't be dismayed at goodbyes, a farewell is necessary before you can meet again and meeting again, after moments or lifetimes, is certain for those who are friends."
– Richard Bach

Two Years

Two years ago I was blessed immeasurably more than I could've ever imagined with the arrival of my twin sons.  I had been overwhelmed as I readied myself for the addition of two boys to our family of four; honestly, I'm at a loss in trying to describe it and the journey with them even now.  I had known that this chapter of my life would involve an incredible leap of faith because there was no way that I'd be able to go forward on my own strength.    


I feel as though I have been entrusted with a hugely significant blessing as mother of these four boys.  Certainly, as I've heard many say so many times, I have my hands full.  I have come to a place of recognizing that, in sharing this journey with my family and friamily, my hands are not the only ones that have been filled.   There is a lot of love and joy in this journey.  

I am filled with a vast dichotomy of emotions as I watch my two year olds; life has been busy and (admittedly still) overwhelming at times, and yet, essentially and overwhelmingly, I feel blessed.  


The gift of children is unfathomably amazing.  


The gift of life is amazing.  I am never far from the knowledge of the critical nature of those pulmonary emboli; I do not take this healing for granted. I recognize that there was a time when I wasn't certain of what the future would hold; I am filled with thankfulness that I am here to hold these two boys. As I have been able to sing Happy Birthday to each of my sons on their birthdays, I realize that these moments, too, are a blessing.  There is so much to celebrate. 

May 2010

 May 2011

May 2012

multiply [ˈmʌltɪˌplaɪ] vb -plies, -plying, -plied 1. to increase or cause to increase in number, quantity, or degree 2. (Mathematics) (tr) to combine (two numbers or quantities) by multiplication 3. (intr) to increase in number by reproduction [from Old French multiplier, from Latin multiplicāre to multiply, from multus much, many + plicāre to fold] multipliable , multiplicable adj blessing - a desirable state; "enjoy the blessings of peace"; boon, good fortune (an auspicious state resulting from favorable outcomes), mercy - something for which to be thankful.

The pages of the last two years of my life are filled with interesting, complicated, challenging, and awesome moments and stories.  What God has done, what has come from brokenness, and what is promised in the days to come is nothing short of what I'd consider miraculous.  And when I look at these two precious little men, I am amazed at the miracles they are... they are a reflection of a blessing multiplied.   I tried to start composing some of those deep thoughts that I've had about the unexpected, about the significance of change and about how I believe that every part of the journey is meaningful: beginning, process, and destination.  However, more than anything, the thoughts - and the hope - I long to share ultimately come in the form of a blessing: that in every season of this life you may also find yourself experiencing blessings multiplied.   Mercy unto you, and peace, and love, be multiplied. Jude 1:2 KJV

Seven Years

"The absolute simplicity. That's what I love. When you're climbing your mind is clear and free from all confusions. You have focus. And suddenly the light becomes sharper, the sounds are richer and you're filled with the deep, powerful presence of life." ~ Seven Years in Tibet


Way back in 1997 (when I had time for such things as movies that were not made by Pixar), I watched a film called Seven Years in Tibet.  One of the most important elements of the movie is not the plot per se but rather how much the main character is transformed by his experience and his relationships in Tibet.


On May 1st, exactly seven years after landing in Fort McMurray with a six-month-old Nate in arms, we finally heard from the relocation agent.  Despite the delays, it appears that the process of moving has begun.  I am still grappling with leaving this community and these families that I love so much.  And in all of the unknowns, I am taking every moment to celebrate the blessings of having had these seven years here, of the beautiful friends who surround me, of the progressing good health that seems to be returning to me - all gifts of immeasurable value.


***


My health is not yet where it once was yet it is amazing how quickly I have become complacent about the very breaths that once seemed so agonizing to find.  Somewhere in the midst of the getting sick - getting treatment - seeking out medical advice - beginning new medications and progressively getting better, I've almost taken things for granted.  Almost.  I doubt that I will ever take the gift of life without great thankfulness ever again for I know that our days and our hours measured out.  And yet when I consider all of these deep and meaningful things, I cannot help but also notice how joyfully my boys contentedly play in our backyard without weighing out such matters of significance.

The perspective and understanding of a child is a beautiful thing.  

I cannot help but feel blessed as I get to experience the world through the eyes of four amazing little men.  Particularly when life seems to be woven with threads of hard times, challenges, and sorrows, the way my boys perceive the world with such joy is a point of healing for me.   There is much to be said about the faith of a child.  There is much to be said about how precious life is.  

From the beginnings of spring to the laughter of a toddler, hope can be found in the most unexpected - and marvelous - places.  

The Immeasurable Blessings of One Little Boy

And here in dust and dirt, O here
The lilies of His love appear.
~ George Herbert.

This is one of those entries that I've been composing in my heart for a very long time, yet I struggle in writing out the words.  April 21st is forever marked in my mind as Milo's day for he arrived on this date, bringing much joy and love to his family.  It is impossible to translate the motions of the heart; the grief of loss and the joy in the promise of Heaven - these are the depths and heights of the story; the story of Milo.

For me, the story of Milo is still being written today.  Memories and messages grow up from the words of his life like lilies.  Like what Philip Yancey describes in his book What's So Amazing About Grace?, the tiniest seed in the garden hints at a movement - the movement of the Kingdom of Heaven - that changes things inside out.

Although I have included at the end of this entry a somewhat condensed version of what I had written this past summer, there is so much left to say about this little boy's life that is so incredibly meaningful.  The gift of Milo has had an undeniable, immeasurable impact on my life - and on the lives of so many.

Every time I think of lilies - I think of him in his garden with his mother.  Every time I see mylar balloons bobbing up and down in Safeway, I think of how much he loved them.  Every time I think of the Potato Soup evening in the middle of winter where the six boys and two moms shared a blessed meal, these memories still touch my heart today. And every time I think of a little boy named Milo, my heart simulatenously breaks and fills for there is so much pain and yet so much hope in the life to come.

This song says so much... and when I hear it, I think of Milo's dad singing it over him:

I Saw the Light

I wandered so aimless life filled with sin
I wouldn’t let my dear saviour in
Then Jesus came like a stranger in the night
Praise the Lord, I saw the light.

I saw the light, I saw the light
No more darkness no more night
Now I’m so happy no sorrow in sight
Praise the Lord, I saw the light.

Just like a blind man I wandered along
Worries and fears I claimed for my own
Then like the blind man that God gave back his sight
Praise the Lord, I saw the light.

I saw the light, I saw the light
No more darkness no more night
Now I’m so happy no sorrow in sight
Praise the Lord, I saw the light.

I was a fool to wander and stray
Straight is the gate and narrow the way
Now I have traded the wrong for the right
Praise the Lord, I saw the light.

I saw the light, I saw the light
No more darkness no more night
Now I’m so happy no sorrow in sight
Praise the Lord, I saw the light.

Celebrating Milo

Thursday, July 7, 2011

Every good and perfect gift is from above, 

coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights. 

~ James 1:17

I have been so blessed.  I have had the privilege of knowing and loving a little boy named Milo.  Even the sound of his name draws out memories of smiles and charming little eyes and his life is imprinted on my aching heart.

I celebrate Milo, a gift from God, a beautiful soul. 

All the same, it hasn't been that long since I received the call, but it feels as though an eternity has passed.  The loss of Milo Barley has led me to a place of such intense grief, it is far too challenging to express it.

So, instead of attempting to articulate the depth of emotions or comprehend things that can't be rationalized, I am going to celebrate Milo.  Ultimately, that is the beauty of who he was: he was a celebration of life and the way he has touched so many, and continues to change so many lives, is a testament.  

I'm not very good at compartmentalizing.  This journey has been really hard because of that.  All in all, and most importantly, I am praising God.  Secondary only to that is a gratefulness for the gift of Milo.  All else falls into the categories of what is and what might have been... I accept and acknowledge those but then I have to return to my first two focus points. 

The Barley and the Pickersgill families have been such an amazing example of faithfulness.  This post is terribly inadequate.  And yet, I have been writing this for over a week and I now know that it may be lengthy, but I'd like to tell you about Milo. There is so much to say even though we had only fourteen months with this little man.  I am recording as much as I can in little journal books and papers around my house; these stories are so important for Rose, Andrew, Jude and their family.  I ache.  I cry without warning for lengthy periods.  I mourn.  I press forward, striving to search for ways to comfort.  I smile in remembrance.   I want to chronicle a little life that was nurtured by such love.

March 2010

Milo's birth story is truly amazing. I was so excited to hear that he was born.  I loved meeting him at his baby shower a few weeks later and seeing his tiny, smiling face.  He was one of those amazing babies that loved to be held and loved to smile. 

There's so much to say about Milo.  Some of my favourite memories of the twins' first year are of Rose and I nursing side-by-side or holding each other's babies.  Although they are too young to make the connection themselves, in my mind, Milo was the twins' best friend. He seemed quite at home in the middle of their very physical affection (I think that he had been acclimatized by big brother's love).  I loved how Jude renamed him "Mr. Milo".  I loved how expressive his little face could get.  I loved also how he'd be so studious and observant.  He was a wonder - curious and adventurous (he mastered stairs at the end of December) and he had this way of charming everyone (there was never a Sunday that I did not see him happily carried in another person's arms) - including me.  Despite the fact that my hands seemed continually full with boys, I'd be so excited to get a chance to pick him up on any given Sunday morning in the nursery and swing him into my arms.  He'd promptly plunk a thumb into that tiny little mouth and look straight into my eyes.  What a gift. 

The truth of the matter is that a little boy has had a huge impact on so many lives.  His story continues on in so many ways.

March 2011

In the days that have followed, I have alternated from being still with God to throwing myself wholeheartedly into gardening.  There is something beautiful about working out one's emotions through the soil and seeing God's hand in creation.  With all of the parallels that can be drawn, I find my grief being transformed in the garden.  As the rain pours down today I can't help but think of how much it is helping the soil; I can't help but think about healing.

I hope you ask me about Milo sometime.  I'd love to tell you all about his life and what God has been doing as the days go on.  It will be a chronicle about remembrance and it will be stories about celebration.

It will be about a blessing. 

I am still confident of this:

I will see the goodness of the Lord

In the land of the living.

Wait for the Lord;

be strong and take heart

and wait for the Lord.

~ Psalm 27  

That which is Changing... and Challenging

This is not the way I expected to announce the news. My ideal method was to contact my friends and tell each one of them personally. Due to a lack of time and an overwhelming amount of emotions (I'm finding that for someone who is generally a wordsmith that it's hard for me to talk about it) seem to be working against me. 

We had been waiting on the final paperwork, information, details and timing before making the announcement to our friends & family here. As I don't have the fine print, I have been hesitant to share. Despite this, we have been slowly passing out the information though I have felt completely at a loss in the process; it has not gone at all as well as I had hoped so I do feel the need to apologise. 

All this to say...

Arden is being transferred to Calgary.

Although I know this was a necessary move for his career (which will now become a Monday to Friday, 9 to 5 position), a beneficial transition for our family (rooted in the additional time that he will have at home), and positive with regards to access to medical professionals, I am incredibly sad about leaving. Shell has indicated that it is critical for this position to be filled as soon as May; however, we're hoping for June at the earliest.

The fact that our family will be leaving McMurray in the near future is something hard for me to accept for a many different reasons.    

Change is such hard work. ~ Billy Crystal 


Certainly, there is joy.  There is a sense of relief in that Arden begins a new position with regular office hours; he will no longer have to work extensive sets of day/night shift work. I look forward to all that extra time that Arden will have with me & the boys – last year he had wanted to be on the field coaching Nate's baseball team... now this becomes a possibility. I look forward to having dinner around the table together and a consistency in our routine. Even though I have not been there since moving to Alberta, there is a lot to enjoy in Calgary; a friend sent me a “top ten” list this week which made me laugh and look forward to enjoying aspects of living in Calgary.

Although I am resistant to change – and to big city living as I am a small-town girl – the core reason I am feeling such loss is related to the fact I am leaving such amazing friends – my Fort McMurray family. These are the individuals who have been here for me and my boys – fierce, dedicated, involved, and loving. I can't imagine leaving before being able to pay this care forward. I have been so indescribably blessed and I can't imagine my world without these phenomenal people in the next stage of this journey. It would be impossible to give a chronicle of the amazing kindnesses we have received.

The last two years have been jam packed with intense times and this season is no different.  The idea of leaving my McMurray before I start working the soil in the Community Garden, before I walk down Birchwood trails in the mid-summer's heat, and maybe even before my children are finished their school year is an intimidating and overwhelming prospect.

All the same, I know that this is where God is sending us. I can't lean on my own understanding... so I trust. Faith sustains me and I acknowledge that there is so much to be learned from change.  Even still, I have to recognize that I am conflicted and feeling much loss. Reading Ecclesiastes has been, surprisingly, encouraging at such a time as this.

There is a time for everything.

The only way to make sense out of change is to plunge into it, move with it, and join the dance. ~ Alan Watts.