Home is......

I started writing this particular post about 2 years ago, but for whatever reason, never posted it; figured I'd do so now.

I try not to focus on the fact that we're not at "home"; most days I'm successful. When we were offered the use of the mobile home, we thought (hoped??) that our stay would be temporary - a couple weeks; sort of like an unplanned vacation. We had a service man in to take a look at the furnace when we first got there just days following the fire and in the course of our conversation he asked whether we'd be here come winter. I pretty quickly responded in the negative. That wasn't the plan...... winter seemed such a long way off in April but what seemed a long way off then, doesn't seem far enough away now.

My prayer and goal is to get back into the south wing of our place before winter and I am hopeful that will happen. However, our plans are largely dependent on circumstances that are beyond our control. In order to avoid future disappointment, I have to manage my expectations now. I have to be content and prepared to stay here for as long as that is required. It's in that regard I can learn a thing or two from my youngest children.

We are told that children are "a heritage, a gift or a blessing" given to us so that we might train them up in the way they should go, and yet we can learn so much from them. At least I do. I've had times when I've thought I was revealing some great truth to my kids only to realize that the message was clearly intended for me. We've not had to deal with tears or tantrums about being in a strange or different place. Dec and Rhys went from having their own beds to sharing a mattress on the floor without complaint. We weren't here very long when I heard Rhys refer to the trailer as "home". Though that didn't make me feel all warm and tingly, I realized that my kids are safe and secure when their family is together, wherever that is.

Yesterday Tess was playing in the kitchen, looking through the cupboards yattering away at me. She doesn't care about where she plays or sleeps as long as she is with her family. Her actions reminded me that home isn't as much about where we live, but who we live with; Home is less about a building and more about the people who inhabit it.

An update: I started writing this around the end of June, 2009 and here we are in July of 2011. We transitioned....again....from the mobile to the "house on the river" last August to make room for kids returning home. Here the three youngest share a bigger mattress on the floor....Tess likes sleeping with "her boys" and before we just let her do it, we would find here there anyway. You learn after the 6th or 7th not to sweat the small stuff. A day or two ago I shared about our home Brad and I were first married; we were blissfully happy for the four weeks that we were there but we never returned following the accident. While Brad was fairly immobile, friends offered us the use of their basement apartment and then we sub-let an apartment from a lady who went south for the winter. When I was 6 months pregnant, I was diagnosed with Toxemia, which I believe they now call pre-eclampsia. I was put on strict bed rest and my sister moved in with us to take care of me and cook and clean. A month or so before Meagan arrived, we moved into my parents' home....this was all in our first year of wedded bliss! Though it isn't the dream of any newlywed couple, we lived happily there til Meagan was 9 months when we bought a wee house in Richards Landing. The family grew and pretty soon we needed more space, so we bought a bigger place just down the road......A change in Brad's employment took us to Gore Bay on Manitoulin Island; we also called Kagawong home for a while. From Manitoulin we ventured north to the Northwest Territories and enjoyed 3 years in Yellowknife. From there to Hatfield Crescent in Orleans, to "the Palace" just south of Kemptville.....we've called them all home.

The buildings have changed, but we've made each of them home, and have had the privilege of having others make them their home too.

Terrible 2's and Finding Forgiveness

I just caught my youngest hanging from the edge of the crib. Rhys turned two on October 17 and his ventures into ensuring that boundaries still do exist know no bounds. His father has said that he is more of a handful than the other 4 boys put together. When I gave him a swat on his diapered backside, he actually looked…..offended. Hurt and offended. What a boy! I tell him it's a good thing he's cute.....

Heavy sigh.

I have had several times over the past month when I thought that I needed to sit down at the computer to write something; however, I know how this works and what starts out as something simple becomes much larger as I write. A week ago this past Saturday was one such time.

Brad and I had loaded up our two youngest late Friday afternoon to head over to Ogdensburg where we would spend the night and then watch Campbell’s playoff game the following day in Peru, New York. Peru is about a 2.5 hour drive from Ogdensburg. We had been awakened in the night by Rhys and though he didn’t take too long to settle, my sleep had been interrupted enough and I was awake for a while. The weather the following morning was rainy as promised and though the temperature didn’t dip below 13 degree Celcius, it’s tough to feel warm when you’re wet. By half time the boys were soaked from the middle down with the exception of their rubber-booted feet and I was wet through my waterproof jacket. Back at the truck I stripped them down and changed them both. We stayed put until the game was over around 4:30 and then we headed back to Ogdensburg. Stopping for dinner was not an option; the team bus that Cam was travelling on would not stop and we didn’t want to leave him stranded at the school in the rain. The boys were good travellers and though they napped and I had brought snacks for the drive, they were both tired and hungry when we arrived back in Ogdensburg. I figured I’d feed them while Brad waited Cam out and then get them back to their own beds for the night.

It was a good plan I thought. I gave them their choice of two meals (which was perhaps a mistake but not my biggest one of the evening) and then got it ready. When they came to the table they both turned up their noses before even tasting anything, which didn’t leave me feeling warm and fuzzy. After a threat or two made with a raised voice, I tried shoving the food into Rhys’ mouth……which didn’t go over well. I was still damp from the game, hadn’t eaten yet myself and could feel my own temperature rising. Have you ever been in that position? You know the trains a comin (much like a deer caught in the headlights) yet despite the warning lights going off, you really don’t care enough to make the necessary adjustments and get out of the flippin’ way! Well that was me on this night. I could see what was happening but instead of heading the warning signals I gave into the emotion of the moment. I hauled them both out of their seats, gave them each a good spank and sent them into separate bedrooms….I couldn’t even tell you what I said, but it was loud and I’m sure their fear of me at that moment was much more the reason for their sobs then any spanking I’d delivered.

I turned around and quite literally felt my way to the chair; I sat myself down and gave way to the floodgate of tears.

It wasn’t the first time I’d lost control; there have been other times. One was during a parent-teacher interview in Yellowknife; a very embarrassing moment for me but more particularly for my dear husband. We had an issue with this teacher – our boy`s marks had surprised us especially considering this was a very small Christian school and I would have expected to hear prior to report card time that work hadn`t been completed. I’d told my man before we left home that I didn’t want him to lose it with her…..only it wasn’t him I needed to worry about. Further information was provided during the course of the interview – our angel had indeed completed his work however the teacher had lost it. Well, I lost it and left the room after railing at her (again, no memory of what it was I said) in tears. Another time we were in a meeting; things were said that hurt me and I launched up from where I sat, walked across the room to where my friend was and gave him a smack. Again, a very embarrassing moment; one for which I had to apologize and one I felt terrible about for a long time…..and people think I`m so calm, so cool.

But here I was with just my two boys and no witnesses….and I knew I`d crossed that line and lost control. I looked up to see that Rhys had come out of the bedroom where he’d been sent, he was watching me rather tentatively to make sure it was okay for him to be there and when I gestured to him to come, he came. He climbed up on my knee and he gave me a full on body hug, which just made me cry all the harder. I croaked for Declan to come and there we sat, just the three of us. I apologized to my boys and Rhys took my face in his little hands and gave me “tisses” on the mouth and as quickly as that train had come, it was gone. I was forgiven and as far as my boys were concerned, all was forgotten. I made them a grill cheese which they ate with relish and we watched a veggie tales movie.

It was after that I got to thinking about how quickly a child forgives and how with age we learn to hold on to the things that hurt us even when they`re things that we`ve done to hurt ourselves. Jesus told us that the Kingdom of Heaven belongs to children and unless we become like them, we won’t enter. I have learned much not just from being a mother, but from my kids; forgiveness is one area in which I need to continue to take lessons from, to learn from my `terrible-two-year-old`.