Grateful

Posted on July 9, 2011 by melissafed

When it comes down to the wire, most of us end up in a four walled room, painted all white. If we are lucky we get an eggshell mattress and rolled over as needed. When we find ourselves in this place, we suddenly see plain and true where we invested our lives. The stories told at bedside, the people who are drawn to you, the photos framed around you. No matter what else you had in life, it all comes down to where you had your treasure invested.

This week I am just so grateful to find myself in a legacy. Adventure loving man and his wife who kept the cogs and wheels in place while he was part of fantastical tales. Thankful for thousands of belly laughs so deep and breathtaking we thought it might be the end of our red-faced grandfather. Thankful for the lessons in hard work and business (that time we got in such trouble for watching tv on a beautiful day). Thankful for the inspiration of seeing the best in each day, for each piece of pie being the ‘best he ever had’. Thankful he taught me to love a good story (grateful the stories were good as we heard them once or twice ;-)). Thankful to see a family come through strong despite (or because of) a slightly gypsy lifestyle… perhaps a bit like the one we are living. Thankful for strong hands that held on tight, sometimes too tight when he got to laughing. Thankful he still looked for the love of his life even fifteen years after she passed. Thankful for a gift he passed along of enormous integrity, unwavering character, unfailing optimism.

Grateful for 98 good years. For peaceful breath until it stopped. For extraordinary daughters at his side.

Love you Pappa G.

He Made Me Believe

Posted on June 29, 2011 by melissafed

“He made me believe in monogamy” she said “I didn’t really think it could be done before him”. Her eyes trailed down to the table, blinking fast. Her hand found its way to her twelve-year-old daughters shoulder, holding on for dear life.

My hands were wrapped only around my diet Pepsi, my mind spinning on what she said. My nineteen years didn’t give that statement all the feet it deserved. I was at the point in life where I thought,

“He is your husband. Of course he did”

Now having watched one too many marriages kiss themselves goodbye. Too many women pack up and run. I realize how profound her statement really was.

She was saying:

He is the only man she wanted to influence her children,

This, a man worth sacrificing for, a life worth fighting for.

The man she had just watched die…he was more than worth what she had given up to bring herself to this place

He had made her more of herself not less.

She was talking about something that was way bigger than sex,

I think now though, it may have been the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard anyone say.

Happy Anniversary husband…thanks for making me believe. Twelve years and every day you’ve made my life sweeter…

Dull Ache

Posted on June 16, 2011 by melissafed

I’ve got this dull ache in my chest for your marriage. Mine too. I want them to be GOOD. I want your marriage to be your safe harbour. I want you to trust it. I want you both to find freedom in each other, not bondage. I want your face to light up in the presence of the other. I want you to co-create the safest place on earth for your children. I want you to believe in it and in each other. I want you truly believe that your spouse is the best person you know. I want you to believe that there is not, and never was, a better person for you than the one you lay down beside at night. I want you to be happy, I want you to be fulfilled. I want you to be your best self in your marriage and I want you to help bring that out in the other.

I’ve got a dull ache in my chest for marriage in general these days. It is worth fighting for friends…

Your Love Story Is Still Being Written

Posted on June 3, 2011 by melissafed

I saw him at Coopers. This little old man had shrunk three sizes since I saw him last; that day we had sat, fingers entwined, and watched his wife breathe last. I had fallen in love with her too. I was a brand new nurse and my grandmother was two years dead already and this woman spoke just like her in practical and gentle ways. Each shift I would take my lunch in and eat with her, I just couldn’t stay away.

This day at the grocery store, he crumpled the moment he saw me. Curled into my arms and wept. We found a deli table and sat and he sipped coffee and ate crumbly cookie that stuck to his quivering lips as he tried to tell the whole story. Love story from beginning to end…

“She was the only woman I have ever loved. She was the best person to have ever walked earth”. His eyes were all full of truth and I knew he believed every word. I had only worked in palliative care for four months but I had seen full eyes before; eyes full of pain, full of regret, full of relief. Here though, was the first time I saw eyes full of love with no hint of any other emotion. He had loved her every day.

My twenty-two year old mind shifted that day. All the romantic ideals and fairy tales died on the deli table. The truth of what love is and how to live the best of stories was clearly evident in this mans eyes. All that Hollywood tells us about being true to yourself, about fleeing when things get tough, about ‘friends with benefits’ none of it could hold a candle to the romance in this mans eyes.

At age 21 their story could’ve ended with ‘they lived happily ever after’. That is what we would all like to believe, the truth though is that the story was just starting. The bravest and truest tales were yet to be penned, the showing up for each other on the hardest days, the honouring each other in all circumstances, the fortitude it takes to stand side by side when so many are giving up, the warfare on monogamy and the games it plays on hearts. Once we know the outcomes of each of these chapters, once we see if the ‘happily ever’ stands, then we know if this is an epic love story. The kind of love future generations can hang their hope on.

Today my friend, your love story is still being written. Maybe you’re like me and you’ve let the story write itself for too long. Maybe your heroine has not invested what she should. Maybe she got lazy and distracted by babies and work and home and one thousand excuses. Maybe, she needs to pick up the pen and start writing deliberately. The best part of the story, may very well be yet to come. The ending I want, is my husband big brown eyes wet with love, teaching a young nurse someday, what ‘happily ever after’ really means, how he loved me every day.

and

Tipping Point

Posted on May 5, 2011 by melissafed

I’ve got to tell you, it’s not the last time that will happen. I saw that little girl laughing wild one moment while you chased then turning on you eyes full of fire. The moment when that happens is not something I can teach you. The tipping point from joy to rage is, in some women, the width of a head of a pin.

I will never be able to explain at what point you will know that recovery is impossible, gravity has triumphed and the only option you have is to fall with grace.

I don’t think I will be able to explain to you the subtle change in a strawberry that turns it from the sweetest delight to rot. You will learn by sampling many and you will learn how the texture changes, how the smell shifts. Today, after few sips of smoothie you left the table and came back refusing to have more. You’ve tasted sour milk and anything left behind is ‘old’. You know already how distasteful warm milk is on the tongue.

I drove past an elementary school today and my stomach jumped into my throat. It can be ugly there. You will have to learn for yourself how fast the economy of cool can shift. Learn what darting eyes mean and feel the sting of a conversation intruded; the function of which is to tear you to shreds.

Choose wisely then, son of mine, which fulcrum you place the lever of your life. And remember, wherever you tip, I’ll be pressing on the other side, doing my best to lift you out of the dirt.

Country Chronicles: He’s back!

Posted on April 30, 2011 by melissafed

Here is a good story.

Joel called on his way to town to pick up the youth kids to come over He said that he just spotted the owl again on the fence post. Emily and I both squealed and then my girl raised her index finger in the air, stopped short her squealing and said:
“But…we can’t scare it away” very seriously.

“Lets go, let’s go!” I said and we headed down the driveway. People should know that heading down my driveway is no small task (its long and its steep!), especially when it snowed three inches in the morning and that snow has turned the driveway to mud. In any event Em and I will not be deterred and we run down the hill while Emily YELLS

“Lets go see da owl. Lets go see him. I’m going to take a present from him”

In our exuberance…we may or may not have got going to fast.

I may have seen Emily blur past me in no-good-for-running gum boots.

I may have shouted at her to slow down.

I may have tried to catch her.

I did not and the poor little girl ended up FACE first in a mud puddle. I wish, oh I wish, I had a photo for you (I admit I was tempted to take the photo before rescuing her but thankfully I thought better of it) because I’m not sure you will believe me if I tell you that her face and left shoulder were literally stuck in the mud. Her feet where in the air. It was amazing.

She only cried for a moment thankfully, though she did pout occasionally for the remainder of the outing because of her very dirty self and she did insist that I carry her oh-so-muddy self all the way to the top of our mountain when we were finished. However we would both tell you..

So. WORTH. It.

What an amazing creature. And yes…most definately a Great Gray Owl.

Country Chronicles: Barn Raising & Learning to Do Community

Posted on April 27, 2011 by melissafed

There have been points in my life in recent years that I put up strong and impermeable fences around the borderlands of my family. I thought the way to keep us strong together was to keep others out. I believed that if we spent energy on others, we would run out of love for each other. We have found the opposite to be true as we are experimenting with expanding the boundaries, inviting others in. I want to do community better.

I’ve sat next to people thinking we were going deep only to find out just days later that their world was shattering, heart all broken up. I’ve thought I was loving people well only to find out later that I wasn’t. I’ve not been at hospital bedside, holding hands, when I should have been. I’m terrible at phone calls but I want to do community better.

My mamma said to my daddy last weekend “whatever happened to an old-fashioned barn raising? When everyone comes and they get a barn up in a weekend? That just doesn’t happen anymore…”I thought that is true but then this weekend, my husband built a fence, and young men kept finding their way up our mountain and digging ditches. He didn’t call any of them and they built a fence to keep my children safe. I gave them ham sandwiches and we heard about a couple of love stories in the making and they called it ‘the property’ (instead of Joel and Melissas house) and it was good. We also got a new truck except it is old. A dear one gave us a Jeep a few years ago. We gave our Pathfinder to a guy who needed it. He gave it to another friend when he could afford better. He passed it to another who kept it for a while until the gas was too much. It came home today. We trade around vehicles again because one truck is better than another and one needs a different kind and I think this is how church is supposed to work.

There is so much for me to learn on this. Much of the time community, authentic and true, scares me. People in the flesh make me nervous. But then, there is this new fence. It is permeable and it creates safe places for gathering and life building.

And friends? This is something we just have to get right; people are lonely and broken and have needs right next door to you. We have to do community better.

Country Chronicles: Spring Break

Posted on April 3, 2011 by melissafed

J took the week off. It has been glorious. We explored land that has been covered in snow since we moved in. We did projects that have been making Joel itchy to complete: the shed that met with a runaway trailer and sheared off the power, the playhouse that needed to be started, the car port full of outdoor goods waiting to find homes here. It was the perfect mix of productivity and family time.

Family time that was defined an awful lot by siblings becoming ever more intense in their love for one another. You know the kind of love I’m talking about don’t you? The kind of love that would have you throw yourself between a crocodile and your little sister when outsiders threaten but would also throw her off the coffee table sooner than share your Buzz Lightyear doll? Yah…thats what we are living over here.

I read a novel this week (for my book club tonight) and it was pretty good. Emerging from this though was a new passion for mothering my daughter well…for sistering my sisters better…for sitting around tables, sipping tea and honouring what it means to be women. I was putting lotion on sweet Ems skin after her bath and all I could think was how I wish I could rub courage into her too. Courage in her skin, so that it would grow with her and so that she would be fearless. That she would know that there are some who are scared and so they don’t, some (like me) that are scared but still try their best to DO IT, and then there are those like her father who are fearless…I pray the later for her.

Some friends visited too. I had wanted to have a big party and had many names on an email list, but then when it started to snow I deleted a few knowing we would have to party in the house…and the regret I had for not inviting more dissolved into the chaos of more than enough children on my staircase!!! It was absurd and fun with the children running to every corner of our home. We got a sitter and we went bowling and it was fun to catch up with old friends. Funny how I get out of practice with socializing though…I’ve become clumsy and started like 70 sentences that drifted off before I could finish them. I am one who needs plenty of practice and who could easily hide in the cabin for the rest of my life. I am so lucky to have friends who put up with a klutz like me!

So now we prepare for the week to come. Prepare to have commitments again, appointments to go to, preschool to attend, coffee dates to book, meetings to have.

We are ready for it…rested and fearless.

I feel most loved when…

Posted on March 11, 2011 by melissafed

When the sun kisses my lips when I am just waking up. When spring breeze whispers sweet nothings in my ears as it rustles the pine trees. I feel His love when I am five feet under clear blue and water caresses skin.

I feel most loved when small hands take hold of my face in the night and whisper secrets. When husband watches me across crowded rooms or when I hear him talk about our family. When love incarnate of my family gathers in tight, pile on the couch to read. When we work side by side to build for our family. When we push other things aside to make space for each other the way we really are and the way we remember each other before kids, ministry and LIFE struck…

These are the things that remind that I am loved.

How about you? What does love look like to you?

Joining in Gypsy Mamma 5 Minute Writing Prompt…

Time Managment

Posted on February 16, 2011 by melissafed

She wakes from her nap before she is ready. I’m trying to make dinner and she pushes her body between me and the stove a dozen times. I ask her over and over to move. I warn about burns and ‘hot’ and I distract her and I even turn on ‘Dora’. She will not be moved. She stands there and she is as stubborn as her mamma. We are both determined to have our way.

She is two and often lately I’ve thought about how fast she grows and how fast she changes and how I don’t want to miss a minute but here I am hustling her away and ignoring her.

I sit, before the stove, on cold terra-cotta floor. Little girl curls into my lap and lays her head on my shoulder. We both relax in embrace and we stay that way while the full pan of prawns burn in garlic butter, meat and potatoes grow cold.

All I can think is how I’ve finally figured out how to manage time wisely. Learned how the very good gifts He gives must be tended with great care. How even fine things can distract us from the best things. How I long to live His best…and embrace all the best things he has given me.