Fourty-Five

 WOW 45... I Remember when, at 15 I moved to NJ to live with my Aunt and Uncle to ostensibly get to know my American relatives better but in reality to break free from the limiting role my siblings had put me in and recast my role as, not the youngest sister, but as me.

Auntie June and Uncle Kevin seemed ancient back then yet now looking back I they were even younger than I am now.

I never would have guessed that breaking free of other people's image of me to stand in the light of the truth of who I am would become a lifelong journey.

At 45 life is an interesting mix of predictability and beautiful surprises. I am grateful for the people I am surrounded by; for every moment I have spent mothering, friending, cooking, cleaning, driving, teaching, learning and loving.

I used to think that I gave too much of my time and attention to causes and people who didn't deserve it, now I realize that few of us (me included) deserve the mercy and grace others extend.

I used to believe the choices my kids make should reflect the values I instilled, now (thanks Zoe, Antonios, Miles and Athena) I insist that their choices reflect who they are and who they want to be in this world.

I used to suppress the part of me that wanted to connect with God, now I actively seek out and pay attention to the Divine.

At 45 I am old enough to know that freedom is more about the ability to be who you are than the ability to go where you want.

Until I sit down to capture a moment, create a poem, or offer encouragement and support, my 15-year-old self would hardly recognize this me. A me who willingly admits to not having the answers; who makes the bed even before leaving the bedroom; who has learned to celebrate as vigorously as she grieves; who doesn't need to hide her tears; who voices her opinions and who actively explores her spirituality. A me who has learned that no matter what the problem is, love is usually the answer; who belongs wherever I choose to find common ground (there is always common ground). A me who believes you can never be grateful enough for the gift of life - regardless of its condition; as long as you are alive  you have something to offer.

If I have 45 more years or a day I want to spend my time accepting and loving and perhaps putting a few more words on paper because there are always more words.

Rising - Poem

I lay down my head to go to sleep

and all the secrets my heart keeps

floated up in to my head

causing me to think instead.

First came joys that I have felt

then pain with which I haven't dealt

I faced the wrongs that I made right

then the ones I hide from sight.

the ones that cause the greatest pain

the ones I hide from guilt and shame.

The sheets grew wet with falling tears

for all the scars that my soul bears

then in the deepest darkest hour

gratitude, with all her power

showed me all the lessons learned

showed me all the badges earned.

By the time the day had come

I accepted those few some

regrets that I will carry 'round

as burdens that I can't lay down.

I blinked against the ended night

my heart and mind had both grown light

like the dark, my work was done

my heart re-packed before the sun

had finished lighting up the sky.

At least today if I should die

I'd do it with a whole-ish heart

for falling down is only part

of

Rising.

- Vera

Twelve

Time frickin' flies...

Twelve years already since, a little freaked out and alone, I drove to Groves Memorial Hospital in Fergus and had this crazy kid.

Twelve years of trying to figure out how (sometimes if) his brain works and how (sometimes if) I need to mother him.

Twelve years of watching him interact with the world and figure out how he can influence it more than it influences him.

Twelve years of seeing him master his body and use it to perform feats which have often stopped my heart and started my mouth to yelling.

Twelve years of getting to say good morning and goodnight and wipe that look off your face before I do it for you.

Twelve years of laughter and tears and love and pain which has sometimes engulfed him but has never broken him.

Twelve years of noting who he looks up to and why.

Twelve years of wondering which bone he will break next and how.

Twelve years of being grateful that I didn't crash my car on the way to the hospital.

Happy Birthday young man, let's see if we can get you to thirteen intact!