Post #52: Dark Towers and Twinkling Stars

“There, peeping among the cloud-wrack above a dark tower high up in the mountains, Sam saw a white star twinkle for a while. The beauty of it smote his heart, as he looked up out of the forsaken land, and hope returned to him. For like a shaft, clear and cold, the thought pierced him that in the end the Shadow was only a small and passing thing: there was light and high beauty for ever beyond its reach" (J.R.R. Tolkein).

As I read this, my heart goes out to Sam. Frodo has been taken by orcs after Sam thought he was dead. He felt completely alone and like an utter failure. Nothing on their trip to Mordor had gone according to plan, and now he, Sam, the gardener, had to find a way to rescue Frodo. Everything felt hopeless until he saw that one, twinkling star. The start that reminded him light is always out of reach of the shadow.

If you had told me just over two weeks ago that not only would a pandemic be declared, but that my province would declare a state of emergency and that my only physical interactions would be with my husband, my 2.5 year old, and my 9 month old, I don't know that I would have believed you.

Initially, life didn't change all that much. I'm an introvert. Jordan is an introvert. We are fairly used to sticking close to home. Besides, socializing with two young kids doesn't look the way socializing used to look! But I have not gone to a store or out in my car for over two weeks now. My kids have only seen their parents for the last two weeks. And at the start that was okay. We kept to our routine (minus Jordan working from home for a bit), and life continued on. Then the routine fell away (thank you, eight month sleep regression combined with teething), Anson started really pushing boundaries to see what he could get away with, and sleep remained elusive for me. Yesterday, we returned to our routine. As we went for our morning walk, Anson pointed to every person he saw, remarking excitedly, "Mama, PEOPLE!" as if "people" was a mythological creature he had only read about in bedtime stories (#socialdistancingwin).

In the last two weeks, I have felt myself alternate between feeling like life is still pretty normal, to feeling overwhelmed with anxiety. I don't know how long this will last. I don't know what the implications of this are going to be on my family. I miss friends. I miss being able to hope in the stroller and walk to the store. I miss church. I'm frustrated that because of an unseen water problem in our basement we have to gut what was our finished basement, and my husband has to do it entirely on his own. And I'm scared. I'm scared because my sister is a nurse in a small community that already has a confirmed case of COVID-19. I'm scared because my parents and in-laws are in that age bracket that makes them more susceptible. I'm scared because my husband is out their working and potentially getting sick too.

At the peak of my anxiety, my Facebook memories brought up the above Tolkein quotations. And I was reminded that this is a dark time. The "Shadow" seems so strong right now. But there is a Light that the darkness and shadow can't touch. God has a way of using literature to get my attention and speak to me, whether it is Little Women or The Lord of the Rings.

On one of our walks I decided to introduce Anson to a bit more about God. We talked about God as Creator. He spent the rest of our walk pointing out everything he saw and telling me that God made it. When we got home, he sat Gwen down and explained to her that God made her, and him, and Nana and Opa, and Pake and Beppe.

This week Jordan had to return to work. On nights when he works late and I do bedtime alone, I will usually put Gwen to sleep first. Then Anson curls up in our bed and we read several books. After that I will put a movie on for us to watch part of (due to the aforementioned basement gut our TV is now in our bedroom). So tonight we were cuddled up watching Frozen 2. Instantly he picked up on the fact that the mother sings a song to the two princesses before they go to sleep. Anson connected that to the fact that Jordan and I sing to him before he goes to sleep every night too.

I suppose my point in writing this is to say that despite how hopeless things can see, God keeps revealing things to me that speak of hope. I've seen people come together to deliver meals to a couple having a new baby. I've seen people checking in with others to make sure they are all doing okay. I've witnessed people having to make hard choices in order to take care of those around them. And as Anson reminded me today at bedtime that "God is outside and in my heart, and Gwennie's heart, and mama and dada's heart," I was reminded that God is omnipresent. That He is everywhere. That He sees everything. And that even though I have no idea why He allows some of things that happen to happen, I know that He is still good.

And so, despite dark towers and shadows, I am reminded of that Twinkling Star, that Light, that cannot be reached by them.

Post #51: "Me here, Wennie. Me here"

Something interesting happened this mat leave. I rediscovered things that bring me joy. Things that help me express myself. Things that help me process. For example, I love to bake. I have baked more in the eight months since Gwen was born, than I had in the three or four years before her birth. It helps that Anson thinks baking is the greatest thing in the world.

The other thing I have started doing again is writing. I have written the odd blog post in the last few years, but that is it. I used to keep a regular blog, but I also wrote for fun. My computer always had a few novels that I was planning or working on (but of course never finishing... because where is the fun in that!). But in the last couple months I have found myself writing again. I have started blogging. I also started working on a story that I promised myself I would write over ten years ago.

Writing is one of those things that helps me feel whole. God often uses it to help me process emotions and experiences. It is also a way of being vulnerable. I'm the person who can count on one hand (and probably one finger), the times I would let someone read my essays in university. As much as I knew that feedback and constructive criticism were good for me and my development, my insecurity held me back. I often encourage my students to take feedback and use my life as a cautionary tale.

What is interesting is that I wasn't always insecure about my writing. When I was in high school I can remember using up all of my school paper to write stories. A friend would always come to find my at lunch or after school to see if I had written more. In elementary school I can remember writing a story about my classmates and reading it out to the class before the first bell rang.

Somewhere along the line I stopped sharing my writing. I became convinced it wasn't good enough. I stopped blogging regularly (partly because of a lack of time, and partly because every time I write a post I ask myself what the point is in sharing it. Why would anyone care what I have to say?)

When I first started writing this post, I had no intention of sharing what is written above. That wasn't my purpose. And then I felt like I should. And then the whole time I was writing I was asking God what the point is, because I couldn't see how it connected to what is written next. Bear with me, because I think God is using this to help give me some clarity (which is typically how He does things).

My favourite part when Gwen wakes up from her nap is the way Anson wants to be involved. Gwen will start crying for me, and the moment Anson hears her, he will look at me and say, "Wennie cries, Mama. Me help Wennie." So then we will head up to her room together, he will open her door, run to her crib, and say, "Me here, Wennie. Me here." In fact, any time Gwen is upset (including the times he causes her tears), he is quick to reassure her that he is there for her. His words are often accompanied by a back rub, a hug, or a kiss. I wish I could fully show you how much Anson loves his sister, and how much she loves him. Gwen's face lights up when Anson enters the room. The two of them love to giggle with each other. Anson loves to talk in a high pitched voice and pretend it is Gwen's voice. He loves to give her hugs and kisses good night. He is desperate for her to be able to play with him. Gwen watches him and you can tell she just wants to be able to do all the things that he does.

But it isn't just with Gwen that I see this side of Anson. This morning I was crying while getting ready for the day as I thought about the content of this post. I went to help Anson pull his pants up after he had gone to the washroom, and he looked at me and said, "What wrong, Mama? You cry?" So I told him I was sad but that it was okay. And then I watched as his face fell with sadness because I was sad. If I'm sad or hurt, Anson wants to kiss it better. He stops what he is doing because he wants to make sure I'm okay.

He is such a sweetheart, and my heart daily feels like it is going to burst with love for him and Gwen.

But Anson is obviously not perfect. He is a two year old who lacks impulse control (as most two year olds do). He is also a physical little boy. When Anson feels his big emotions, he deals with them physically. So when he is excited, angry, frustrated, happy, etc, he will hit/push/slap. He has been doing great with this at home or in small groups with people he is familiar with, but when he gets overwhelmed or overstimulated it is really hard to remind him of the strategies we are working on at home.

Again, this is pretty normal stuff. He is two.

But it is also really hard stuff to deal with. And sometimes it is really hard trying to figure out whether I put him into social situations that could lead to more hitting. On the one hand, I want him to get used to people, because the more comfortable he is, the less he hits. On the other hand, I don't want to set him up to fail.

Every time I get invited to something, I start to panic a bit. Because I love my sweet, sweet boy, and I see the way he brings toys to kids at daycare, or to his sister, when they are sad. I see how he stops everything to sing to Gwen when she cries, because he knows that being sung to makes him feel better. I see all this good in him. But I am so scared of sharing him with others and of them rejecting him or thinking he is "bad." And I know I shouldn't feel this way because I know none of my friends think that. I know my friends, especially those with kids, know how hard this parenting thing is, and they know that Anson is not "bad." But I'm still scared they will find fault with him. I'm scared he will have an off day (because he has had those before) and that all people will get to see is the lack of impulse control.

My writing and my kids are both gifts that God has given to me. And they are both pieces of my heart (to varying degrees). And I'm scared of sharing both with the world, because I'm horrified the world will think them "bad." Because if these reflections of my heart are bad, what does that say about me?

I don't have an answer.

The last time I kept a blog regularly was when I wrote "Annals of a Christian Single." It was my way of processing what it is like to be a Christian single. It led to me being incredibly vulnerable about where I was at in life, but it also was a time when God showed me who I am in Him. By sharing that journey with others, God connected me to other people around the world who had that shared experience, and we were able to encourage each other. To challenge each other. Maybe He is telling me it is time to be vulnerable about where I am at now.

But vulnerability is hard. I live in fear of me and my loved ones being rejected.

But I guess that is where I have to remember Who made me. Who is always present with me. And in those times of fear, rest in the knowledge that Jesus is saying (to quote Anson), "Me here, Jesse. Me here."