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| My maternal grandmother with her father at the cottage in Severn Falls, Ontario She was moved to a LTC facility just prior to the pandemic hitting our area |
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| View from below the cliff Thanks to my Aunt Kim for the pictures. |
Raising a family has kept our bank accounts modest. Chris and I have traded off working and being the parent at home more than most couples I know. We know what it is like to live on less. Much of our home is secondhand furniture. We are regularly offered pieces family and friends are getting rid of. For a while, I felt embarrassed about my home. I would walk into the homes of others that could be on a page of a magazine. I felt like my home was a corner of Value Village.
Vacations over the past few years haven't been obtainable without the generosity of our friends sharing their cottage with us. My grandparent's northern nook was settled on a hill amidst neighbouring trees and overlooked the lake. Our friend's small-town, campground cottage, with a pool, has brought us an equal amount of joy and memories as the northern nook that is no longer in the family. So much so, last year we almost bought a cottage on the campground.
Purchasing a cottage was a fun thought to entertain. Ultimately, we decided against the decision. Chris had recently quit his job to start a new one and it didn't feel wise. Moreso, I realized how many dreams we might have realized with our own home if we made that the financial priority. I mean, we have never owned a new living room set.
That same summer I had been unwell with migraines, hormonal fluctuations and stress which caused anxiety. Not causal nervousness. Not worry. Real brain-chemical depletion, living-in-a-fog, unable to focus, palpitations-like-a-heart-attack, anxiety. For all the Christians who do not understand mental health, I wasn't under a demonic attack. I was in regular contact with a doctor: I tried eating healthy and exercising and I lost 30 pounds, 25 of which I have put back on. I tried prayer and meditation, naturopathy and essential oils. Prayer led me to therapy and medication, and I am now well.
I had spent a lot of time alone, retreated from society, learning how to be well in my body, mind and spirit. It was then, I was enlightened to discover that my home wasn't a corner in Value Village, it was a cottage. My oasis.
My season of health issues happened as Chris left his job as youth pastor, which meant leaving our church community. I felt alone, misunderstood and like few people saw me, including God. We had left our church in a blaze of blessing and glory and my health was disintegrating. Soon after, our lives would continue to fall into pieces in a manner that differed from the plans we had for ourselves. I had thought the disintegration of our lives was over, then COVID-19.
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My goal this school year was to not bring work home, except for during report card season. In the fall, I would eat dinner out once a month, by myself buried in piles of marking. I needed to separate the work from my cottage. My safe place. My place of wholesomeness and healing. Then, COVID-19. Really? The boundaries I set were working.
"Mom, you're always on the computer, now," Addisyn complains.
This is why I wasn't bringing work home. I am a workaholic. It is an inherited trait. I struggle with being present and getting my priorities straight. I love the cottage, my priorities are always straight there. There are challenges in working from home. When I am home, my kids often have my attention, they aren't used to seeing me work all the time.
"I hate this!!!" Addisyn yells as I hold her whimpering soul. She is tense, hot and growling. I pray for peace to replace her anger. For understanding to replace her confusion and frustration. Being around her sisters 24/7 is difficult for her. She thrives in school and with her friends. She feels alone, misunderstood and unseen.
We talk about how her room could be a safe place if she needs it to be. She scoffs that she hates her room and wants to run away.
I think that's how I felt about wanting a cottage. An escape to run away to. I realized I needed to bring the content of a cottage to my own life and home. It is not where you dwell, but who dwells with you. I hold Addisyn until her body finishes shaking in anger, my eyes welling, just like God holds me when I flail at the throws of life.
"I can never escape from your Spirit!
I can never get away from your presence!
If I go up to heaven, you are there;
if I go down to the grave, you are there.
If I ride the wings of the morning,
if I dwell by the farthest oceans,
even there your hand will guide me,
and your strength will support me.
I could ask the darkness to hide me
and the light around me to become night—
but even in darkness I cannot hide from you.
To you the night shines as bright as day.
Darkness and light are the same to you."
-Psalm 139:6-12 (NLT)
Darkness and light are the same to you, Jesus. We are not excused from the dark hours of life. I thank you, Holy Spirit, that you are the cottage that dwells in me. The arms that hold the flailing child and bring light to the dark. Today, I pray for everyone who finds themselves in darkness. For those whose homes do not represent a safe place. I pray for the abused, the neglected, the hungry, the lonely and the hurting. Give their souls and spirits shelter in You and bring aid through people, that they would feel Your arms and know Your eyes are welling. Amen.
