I haven’t mentioned it yet but I’m happy to say that we have received our acceptance  from the Saskatchewan Ministry of Social Services to pursue adoption. It’s probably the most painless step of the whole process so not so much a big accomplishment as it is actual evidence that we are headed down this road for real now!

Our next step is an interview/meeting with our social worker which will happen in a few days. I am not totally sure what that meeting will entail. Talking through our adoption plan, discussing the homestudy, what else? I’m not clear. But after that meeting I think we will be cleared to begin the homestudy process which is a big part of the dossier we will send to our chosen country.  Now THAT I will be nervous about! Nothing like putting your whole life and family under a microscope!

In other news, Kieran seems to be coming to grips with his own mortality. Yes, that’s right. My three year old is having an existential crisis over the fact that he will die someday. Not everyone approaches teaching their kids about death in the same way. We have always taken a very honest, but age-appropriate approach.  Avery encountered death at a very early age when her uncle died of cancer. We explained the concept as best we could at a 2-year-old level. She listened, processed, discussed, and moved on.

But the perils of having an older sister well-informed about the concept of death means a certain three year old boy has been perhaps given information at a time and in a way that he was not prepared for. It almost certainly does not help that she told him the other day that if he watched too much tv his heart would stop beating! Nothing like a little Grim Reaper with your morning cartoons!

I’ll tell you one thing. Comforting a weeping child who is afraid of dying is no picnic. Thus far, distraction has proven to be the most effective technique. We discuss the things we’re going to do tomorrow, next week, and when he grows up. It’s the only thing that seems to work at this point. I’m sure time and maturity will help. Until then, we are trying to focus on life around here!

adoption, Kieran, life and death | No Comments »

We’re back from our holiday to New Hampshire which was everything a short family trip should be: relaxing and fun.  There are things to complain about tell but that can wait for tomorrow. Today, being Veterans Day here in the USA and Remembrance Day in Canada, calls for a more sombre and reflective mood. 

Being in the USA today means I haven’t seen anyone wearing poppies and I haven’t yet hear a recitation of In Flanders Fields (a poem written by a Canadian soldier during the First World War, traditionally recited on Remembrance Day in Canada) so I decided this year I would have to do it myself.

American holidays, Canadian holidays, life and death, quotes | No Comments »

In what some would call a providential occurrence, it so happens that today, the day on which I had planned this very post, is also Blog Action Day! It is so encouraging to see people using their blogs to speak up about important issues and to make a difference in the world because of this internet-community.

I have a friend from college who works with her husband in the Philippines. They have both done some teaching there (he still does, she is currently busy taking care of their new baby) and Jessica works with many local women doing a variety of activities, both religious and practical in nature.  Jessica recently contacted me and some other people regarding a group of twelve different women who she sees regularly and for whom she would like to grant some “wishes” as a way of showing them that people around the world care for their well-being.

I have never used this blog to ask for money before. And I don’t intend to do it frequently.  But this time I had to ask.  These dreams demand to be acknowledged and that’s what I hope to do by sharing some of them here:

“…my third wish is water: I would like water [installed in my home] because I have no money to buy water to my neighborhood. 1 peso for each bucket. but it is heavy but I cannot afford to install water” [cost to make this dream come true: $80]

“my third wish is for Restroom…everytime I feel to go to rest room I  have to go to my sister-in-law’s house, but her house is far from my house. I cannot make a temporary [restroom] by my home because we live by the river and the ground erodes so it is not save. For the [restroom] I need a hollow block and 6 pieces of cement; 300 pieces hollow block; 10 pieces round bar; 1 toilet bowl; 2 cubics sand and gravel mix; 3 pieces for wall” [cost to make this dream come true: $140]

“…[I wish] for a foam mattress to sleep on.” [cost to make this dream come true: $30]

“A bicycle. My wish is for my son to go to school at high school because sometimes he is absent because we don’t have money to pay the fare for him to get to school…” [cost to make this dream come true: $50]

“A gas range… I wish because I always cook with firewood three times a day.” [cost to make this dream come true: $80]

“Here is my wish: The roof of our home.” [cost to make this dream come true: $80]

“My wish is to have a permanent home for my family. A home for my three children together with my husband….We don’t have a permanent house to stay and we don’t have enough money to build a home just because we can’t afford yet to attempt all the materials for needs, and also my husband only working at all to support our daily needs…” [cost to make this dream come true: $1-2000]

“I wish…a floor for my house, because there are holes and sometimes the bamboo breaks when we walk on it.” [cost to make this dream come true: $50]

“I wish for…one sack rice. Even for us 1 kilo is expensive and we have to buy rice every day. It is hard to buy when there is not stable work for my husband.” [cost to make this dream come true: $35]

“My second wish is washing machine because sometimes I feel so tired to wash my clothes but if we have a washing [machine] for my family I don’t have to wash it.” [cost to make this dream come true: $100]

There you have it, people. Their biggest wishes are so simple. Food, clean and accessible water, a roof overhead and walls to shelter them. Almost every one of these twelve women asked for money to make repairs to their homes and/or roofs and some small things that would make their lives easier like furniture or a washing machine or the money to start a small business or raise animals to sell.

It’s not often that you hear the voice of poverty right from the lips of those who live it each and every day. So today, I’m asking you to hear it.  

I know everyone has their own causes and I’m sure you all support your different charities so there is no judgment if you choose not to do this. But for those who might be looking for an opportunity to make a real difference to a real person, to hear their need and say “I can fix this one thing for someone”, here is your chance.

Donations for this project will be made through an organization called Wycliffe Bible Translators. Now, I know not everyone agrees with or believes in religious organizations. But I can personally guarantee that any money you donate will go directly to one of twelve women in order to fulfill their most basic needs and to lift the burden of poverty from their shoulders.  You will get a charitable donation receipt for your donation and you can send a cheque to either the Canadian or American branches of Wycliffe. 

This is not about ideology or theology. This is about real women suffering because of a lack of money.  This is not about who is right and who is wrong. This is about being a citizen in a global community where no one deserves to live without enough food or a proper shelter over their heads.  This is about making a difference in the life of a fellow human being and I am inviting you to participate with me.

If you would like to give some money to one of these very deserving Filippino women please email me at Shannon@livinginthegray.com and I can email you directions on where to send your cheque and what other information needs to be included in order for the donation to get to the right person. The gifts are meant to be given to the women on November 19, so the sooner the cheques are sent in, the better. If you have questions for me, or for Jessica, who will be in charge of getting the money to the women, please don’t hesitate to ask (you can contact me for Jessica’s email or go straight to her blog).

Poverty is real. Today you heard (ok, read) it’s voice. Let’s use this blog thing we do to do more today.

in real life, life and death, making a difference, reach out, spirituality, the good stuff | 3 Comments »

You’ve been on my mind a lot lately.  As I drive around the little town that bears memories of you on every street corner I can’t help but remember you.  You spent almost your whole life in this slow-paced town and I see your face everywhere I go.  When I visit with the people who knew and loved you, when I walk past the places where we had “coffee” and the pioneer cemetery where you took us to wash our ancestors gravestones, when I remember walking to the post office to pick up your mail and spending an entire day making noodles in your garage on 3rd street or the church you attended or the hospital where you died I am overcome with a sense of gratefulness for the time I had to get to know you and sadness for the years that I wish we could still have had together.

I took my children to visit your grave today.  I needed to see where you are, even though I know that you aren’t really there.  I haven’t been there in quite a while and I wanted to feel close to you.  I wept sorrowful, hot tears as I watched my kids run around by your headstone.  I know that I have no right to feel this way, but I can’t help feeling as though my kids have missed out on something really special.  They have a wonderful relationship with my mother, their Oma.  But I so wish they could have known you.  I remember you well enough to know exactly how you would have interacted with them. You had a child-like spirit and children always loved you.  I know they would have loved you, too.  It makes me sad that they will only know you as a smiling, gray-haired lady in a picture.  But my daughter has finally grown big enough to wear the sweater you knit. One of the last ones.  It seems unfair that hundreds of children in this community have worn your sweaters and yet only one of my kids will get to wear one – even you would probably raise an eyebrow if I dressed my son in a pink sweater.

I think about you often and I miss you profoundly.  Not many people are natural teachers the way you were.  And not many people have as positive an outlook as you did or knew what it was to love as selflessly as you did.  Not many people had as much respect for people from all walks of life as you did.  I am trying to learn the lessons you taught.  I fear I will fail and disappoint you.  But I am trying to remind myself that you were one of the few people in my life who I rarely felt that I had disappointed. You always told me you were proud of me.  You taught me to hold my head high and to live with compassion for others and with hands open to the gifts this world has to offer.  You would laugh if you read this.  You would shake your head with your jowls quivering and point your bony, crooked finger at my and say “Ech! You’re a silly girl!”.  God, I really miss you.  But there’s something comforting about feeling your presence here in this small part of the world.

Love,
Your granddaughter

family, goodbyes, life and death, Oma | No Comments »

The kids are playing quietly together in the playroom. There are only a few short moments of this peace during the day.  I will try and enjoy it.  It is cold and miserable outside. The heavens opened up last night and covered us with snow.  I think I may stay home today just because it will be way too much work to get out with the kids.  I hate snowsuits.

I have spent the past several days working on a slideshow/video that I am making for some friends.  Friends who, when I was pregnant with Kieran, miscarried their seventh baby.  A baby who was big enough to make little one inch long footprints.  They had a memorial service for their children last June to create some closure and to celebrate the lives of the babies.  It was beautiful and poignant and I hope it was very healing for them.  I took a lot of pictures that day and I am putting the pictures into this slideshow as a way for them to remember the day.

Working on the video has brought some unexpected emotions.  I always thought I could empathise with these friends.  I haven’t lost a baby but I could imagine what it must feel like.  But as I put together the pictures, as I listened to the lyrics of a song about losing a baby, as I searched for images of tiny feet and hands online, I realized that I have no idea what they have gone through.  In the past few days the possibility of losing my children has gripped my soul with icy, heartwrenching sadness.  As I remembered the birth of my kids and imagined what it would be like to not hear them cry but to hold a limp and lifeless, tiny body and to will it to come back, my heart awakened to the pain that these parents must feel. Parents of seven beautiful babies, most of whom were big enough to be delivered when they died, but not big enough to survive.  Parents with empty arms and broken hearts.  Parents who went through the difficulty of a pregnancy and the pain of a deliver, but had no baby to cuddle afterwards.

I had no conception of this kind of pain.  I probably still don’t really understand and, perhaps, never will.  But the tears I have shed in the designing of this small token will be a memorial for seven little babies, two of which would be almost the exact same age as my own children.

*I found this image online but I altered the size until the footprints were the same size as the ones that my friends had from their second son after he was born. 

In loving memory of…

Michael Peter – May 10, 1998

Joseph Paul – July 5, 1999

“Peanut” – August 2000

Mabel Rose – May 30, 2002

Sarah Anne – March 2003
                                                                                                           
“Tim-Bit” – April 8, 2004

Josiah Timothy – November 8, 2005

family, goodbyes, kids, life and death | No Comments »

Fiddler on the Roof is one of my all-time favorite movies.  If you aren’t a fan of musicals you probably wouldn’t appreciate it but I absolutely LOVE it.  One of the main themes of the movie is the stabilizing force of tradiiton in our lives and how and when it is appropriate, and even necessary to break with tradition.  The idea of family traditions has popped up in some different parenting literature that I have been reading recently and so it has been on my mind.  These different sources have suggested that traditions, whether as big as an annual family vacation or as little as eating pancakes on Sunday morning, create a sense of safety and stability for children.  So I have been considering the rituals of my childhood and wondering which of these are traditions I would like to carry on with my own family and which new traditions might be worth introducing.

Many of my favorite family memories involve our Christmas traditions.  My mom would bake with us and make chocolates in preparation for Christmas parties, decorating the tree at the beginning of December, the home-made advent calendar that we reused, year after year, the Christmas eve tradition of attending church, then touring the city to look at Christmas lights and then home to eat special goodies by the light of the Christmas tree, enjoying Christmas music and each other’s company.  In these times, differences were laid aside.  Or at least any squabbling or other negative happenings do not inhabit my memory of those times.  It elicits feelings of warmth, contentment and genuine appreciation of my family.  When I consider these times now I feel that they somehow help counteract the blatant commercialism of that time of year.  They are rituals that I will attempt to continue.

Of course many traditions take place around holidays but there are some other ones that stick out. My mom took me (and my sisters) each on a special weekend trip when we hit age 13 as a sort of “rite of passage” into adolescence.  It wasn’t anything crazy – just to Regina to stay in a hotel and do some shopping. But it made me feel special and grown up and it spoke words of reassurance to me.  I knew I could always trust my mother and that I was very important to her.  In fact, our very common ritual of going out for “coffee” taught me the same thing on a smaller scale.  It was, and still is, in that setting where we learned about our family, the history, the secrets, where we learned about life and death, joy and sorrow and God and friends and expectations and disappointment and love and compassion.  We fought and laughed and cried and sighed and shared.  I still look forward to these moments with my mom and sisters and I already enjoy them with my daughter. This is one tradition that is very important to me and I intend to continue as long as I draw breath.

In earlier years, before sleeping in became exceedlingly important to keeping the teenage hormones under control, my dad used to make breakfast most Saturday mornings.  I have some fond memories of watching the Bugs Bunny & Tweety show to the smell of hashbrowns cooking.  It was a small thing but I think I agree with the “professional” assessment that it makes kids feel safe to know what’s coming.  The world can be scary and unpredictable.  It makes a big difference to have certain things you can depend on.  Family should be one of them and if these little moments can birth an atmosphere of protection and love for my children I’m going to do my best to make it work.

family, life and death, parenting, philosophy | No Comments »

A friend of mine lost her baby today in the 15th or 16th week of her pregnancy. She has lost something like 7 babies now. None of the pregnancies made it past 21 weeks. My heart aches for her. She and her husband want a baby so badly and it takes courage to keep trying. I admire their perseverance but I wonder how much more of this they can take. What can you say to a person when you represent exactly what she is trying to achieve? I am only 8 weeks pregnant and anything could happen yet. I could loseWeight Exercise my baby, too. But I already have one child and there is no reason to expect that I will miscarry. My friend’s body is failing her over and over again. I can only imagine the frustration and anger she and her husband must be experiencing. I have been feeling sorry for myself the last 2 days because I was turned down by the Kinsmen Foundation. They won’t be giving me money for an insulin pump. But I still have an avenue with the people who have offered to donate money to me. That seems so shallow now, in light of the suffering this couple is going through. How can I feel sorry for myself when they have lost seven children? Seven! Life just isn’t fair.

life and death | 1 Comment »

Last night my husband’s grandfather passed away. I consider him my grandpa, too, because my last grandfather died when I was 14 and when I became part of my husband’s family Grandpa MacKinnon was one of the most welcoming and friendly people of the whole bunch. He never seemed to be in a bad mood. He was the single wittiest person I have ever known and he always had a well-timed wisecrack. He was a loving and caring father and grandfather and everyone around him loved and respected him. I didn’t have the opportunity to know him for very long but I admired his attitude and his fun-loving way of making everyone around him feel at ease.

Grandpa MacKinnon was not biologically related to any of his children or grandchildren because he married his wife after she already had 3 kids with a previous husband who died. He adopted the children as his own but he did not physically father any of them. One of the last times I saw Grandpa was at Grandma’s 90th birthday party. All the family was gathered together for the celebration and we saw some relatives we hadn’t seen in years. I was helping Grandpa walk to the area where we were arranging ourselves for a family photo and as we walked, Grandpa said “For a man who never fathered any children, I sure have a beautiful family, don’t I?” That should tell you what kind of a man he was. He took great pride in his family and was very humble about his contribution to the family. Well, Grandpa, I didn’t say it then, but this is what I was thinking: You were a father in every way that matters and we all loved you for it. You were a great example of what it is to face adversity with faith and courage and to live every moment with joy and a sense of humour and we will miss you very much. Rest in peace.

goodbyes, life and death | 1 Comment »

My brother-in-law died of cancer this past August. His personality always rubbed me the wrong way (I know, nice opener, right?). I tried to be open-minded but his manner was very aggressive and I always felt like he thought he had all the answers and if I (or anyone) disagreed with him then we were written off as “an idiot”.

In his last year, while undergoing cancer treatments and then, when he was no longer being treated because there was no hope of recovery, he was very sharp, impatient and downright nasty at times. For me it was a constant struggle between trying to have compassion for him and not wanting to let him get away with treating people like crap. I felt like someone needed to stand up to him and say “this is not ok”. Maybe it wasn’t the right approach but that was my response.

G was 25 when he died. He was born the same year as me. It is impossible for me to imagine the difficult road he had to walk. I certainly wouldn’t want to trade places with him. Cancer is a terrible way to die. In a lot of ways I feel like thinking about him will always evoke a sense of frustration, sadness and pity because so much of my interaction with him involved those emotions. It seemed like his maturation was stunted around age 14 because although he wanted to do things on his own and not need anyone for anything, whenever things were going poorly he played the victim, suffering injustice at the hands of others. He had such fiery anger and bitterness towards his mother which seemed to me to be misplaced. We have all been disappointed in some way, by how our parents raised us, but they do their best and sometimes they just don’t know the right way to demonstrate their love for us.

So G’s reactions to many people and situations frustrated me in a huge way. I don’t know all the reasons for his feelings and obviously there are going to be major gaps in what I can understand about a person that I only knew for 6 years, but these were my observations: G seemed to feel that he had not had a noteworthy life, that there were no stories about him worth telling or memories worth passing on. This attitude made me pity him more than anything. What a sad way to look back on his life, brief as it was. This also saddened my husband because much knowledge, information and history died with him.

I do not share this to leave a negative legacy about G, but simply to be honest about my feelings about him. I felt, particularly in this last year, that he resented my presence and had no respect for my opinions. Likely, this was largely my fault because I often reacted in the wrong way to his behaviour and words. I responded childishly to childish behaviour. I met his stubbornness with my own strong will. I pray that I can be forgiven me for my judgmentalism and harsh words. I choose not to live in regret, and I know G would agree with me on that point. There is no value in regretting the past. We can only resolve to make better choices in the future.

When he died there was a sense of relief, both that G’s suffering was over, and that the family was released from a sentence of service. Not that they would have had it any other way, but the burden of caring for someone who is dying is an extremely heavy one. I recall thinking that it was unfortunate that G’s final opinion of me was likely not a favorable one but I didn’t see many things that I could have done differently where he was concerned.

Recently I read the script of a video that G made for our daughter. It was just him on camera sharing some thoughts and ideas about the world for her to see when she is old enough to understand what happened to him. He made the recording after months of arguing with us about how he had nothing to say and how much he hated being on camera. We let the issue go and assumed that he wasn’t going to do it. We were visiting the family less than a month before G died and he told us that he was going to do it. We received a copy of the script via email after his funeral and I finally got a chance to sit down and read it.

I was totally shocked by what he had to say about me. His words to my daughter about me were these: “…learn from your mother. She has this strength about her that I hope you take after, a certain confidence and poise that is admirable.” Wow. While I didn’t expect him to say offensive things about me, I wouldn’t have been surprised to not be mentioned at all. It simply floored me. I was honored to be represented in that way and I was so glad that he did appreciate me in some way. I guess it just set my mind at ease a little bit. I’m not superstitious or obsessed with living in the past. I would like to believe that G now has a more complete understanding of his life and the way his actions affected other people. Surely a much more thorough understanding than I have. But it is good to know that his last thoughts of me weren’t all bad.

So my final goodbye to you, G, is this: You have taught me many things about myself. Perhaps the bad that I so easily perceived in you is what I most hated in myself. I will honor your memory and teach my daughter that her big bear of an uncle was one with a great capacity to learn and love, despite his shortcomings. She will know how you faced your final days with courage, despite the pain you experienced, both physically and emotionally. She will know that you were fierce in your opinions but even more so in your passion. I pray she inherits at least some of that ferocity. She will need it to face all that this world will bombard her with.

Rest in peace, my brother.

goodbyes, life and death | 4 Comments »