he sat there in the corner with his cane, his lip quivering in attempt to hold back the tears. "i miss her so much", he said over and over as he stared intently at the slideshow that was playing in the background.

only, none of us knew who this man was.

it turns out that he was a patient at the doctor's office that was attached to the coffee shop that my mom spent her mornings in. she was a permanent fixture there, really; she sat at the same stool and drank her usual coffee with the same people day afer day, and took it upon herself to help any incoming patient find their way to the appropriate doctor. "doctor so and so is just upstairs to the right", she'd say. everyone knew her, and everyone loved her.

so you can understand why it wasn't a shock when i walked into a full house yesterday. people flooded the dining room, living room, kitchen and hallways. stories could be heard from every corner, and laughter from every room. at least, my laughter. [insert wink emoticon here].

my aunts and uncles were there, along with my cousins, second cousins and even third. some of our old neighbours showed up, her friends from the coffee shop i just mentioned [the 'saggy bottom café' as she called it], people who knew her and my dad from way back in the day when my dad apparently roller skated [you learn something new every day], her coworkers, my sister's coworkers, our youth pastors and friends, my roommate and her sister-in-law, and my grade four teacher, who didn't just come to remind me how good my spelling was back then, but to let me know how much he enjoyed talking to my mom, who lived on his street, while he was out gardening. she was always one to stop and smell the roses, after all.

i sit here even a day later overwhelmed by everyone's love and support. thanks a million to all of those who came, to those who wanted to but couldn't, and to that unnamed elderly man in the corner, who, not only donated a crisp $20 bill to the cancer society in my mom's name yesterday, but proved to be the perfect reminder that my mom's sphere of influence exceeded far beyond those she held close.

miss you, mom. thanks for setting such a great example of how we all should live our lives: simply, and surrounded by love. xo

about a year a go, my friend from the states posted some pretty sweet kicks on facebook, and i 'liked' them. next thing you know, thanks to her kindness, i get a package in the mail and all of a sudden, i had a pair of my own.

true story.

ever since then, i've had this really unnatural desire to run. it's as if these shoes had super power, or something.

ashamedly, even though i thought about going for a run many times since, my very new [and free] shoes did nothing but decorate my closet.

until monday, that is.

i don't know what it was about monday, really. maybe it's because i'm getting sick of looking at my disgusting stomach in the mirror every morning, or maybe, just maybe, it's because i need an outlet for all of this anger i feel ever since my mom passed away, but i laced those babies up and took them to the streets.

my already huge block seemed even bigger, and i huffed and i puffed enough to bring the first little pig's house down [and maybe even the second], but i felt like a champ after i got past the all consuming pukey feeling. and i felt like a champ this morning, too, when i faced the wind and rain and did it all over again.

funny how our fears can stop us from doing something we know to be beneficial.

kind of like how i feel when it comes to my mom's celebration of life this weekend. i feel paralyzed at the thought of showing up, but i have to.

sigh. maybe i'll wear my 'new' shoes.

i dropped by work the other day to pick up my check, and walked out with the realization that life goes on.

everything was normal at work; the same people were in the kitchen, the same server was working her normal lunch shift, the owners were having a meeting in the booth they always do, and so on. only my life was different. i was different.

it's been a crazy two weeks since my mom passed away. i've had a lot of thankful moments [blog coming soon], and even more excruciatingly painful ones. some days i feel numb, and other days, raw, but quite frankly, i'm not sure that the loss of my dear mother has really hit home yet.

one thing i am sure of, however, is what my role is in this whole grieving process, and what you can do to help.

let's start with the don'ts [hopefully this helps you help other people grieve also]:

don't say "call me if you need anything". while the person who is grieving may pick up the phone once in a while, this is highly unlikely. the one in pain shouldn't be in charge of reaching out. pick up the phone. if they want to talk, they'll answer, and if they don't, they know you care.

don't expect a response right away [or sometimes, ever]. i'm weird in the sense that i will [eventually] reply to every single message i receive, but not everyone is like me, and not everyone can. either way, the person you send texts/emails/mail to reads all of them, and appreciates your sentiment. being thought about is most helpful.

don't say things like "God must have wanted another angel" or "she is with Jesus in heaven now". while the latter may be true, and comforting at times, the person grieving knows this, and would rather their mother/husband/child be with them now. selfishly, eternity [or whatever] can wait. it's eternity.

and lastly, don't forget about them after the funeral. grief is a process, and this is when they'll need you the most.

the dos:

let the wounded lead. my BFFN was the perfect person to greet me at the airport when i got home. she hugged me, asked me how i was in that moment, and then asked me what i felt like doing. in that moment, i felt like being normal. we went out for lunch and caught up on life, hung out with her dog, watched suits [staring at Harvey spector brings me healing], and then when i needed to, i processed what happened the morning before and cried, and she listened. she didn't assume how i was feeling and act accordingly; she asked me how i was feeling, and let me lead.

enter into their pain. we tend to distance ourselves from our loved one's pain because we feel uncomfortable, and/or avoid the elephant in the room because we feel awkward. but here's the thing [and i have to remind myself of this when the tables are turned] - we're called to "rejoice with those who rejoice and mourn with those who mourn" [romans 12:15], and grieving isn't about you.

and lastly, be practical, and show up.

my friends have been great. i've had cards mailed to my house, received countless hugs, flowers sent to me, meals cooked for me, money collected, and the list goes on, all of which have helped me a great deal and have kept me going during moments i didn't think i could, or had no desire to.

in times like these, my mind often goes back to the story of job. this dude knew pain. he had everything [ten kids, thousands of animals, a ton of servants, and good health], and lost everything just like that.

"when job’s three friends, eliphaz the temanite, bildad the shuhite and zophar the naamathite, heard about all the troubles that had come upon him, they set out from their homes and met together by agreement to go and sympathize with him and comfort him. when they saw him from a distance, they could hardly recognize him; they began to weep aloud, and they tore their robes and sprinkled dust on their heads. then they sat on the ground with him for seven days and seven nights. no one said a word to him, because they saw how great his suffering was" [job 2:11-13]

but then, in chapters four, eight and eleven, job's friends open their mouths, and, in an attempt to find a solution to his pain, start blaming him and his sin for his loss [which, as you'll notice from reading chapter one, isn't the case at all].

take it from their example, don't try and figure life [or death] out, make excuses as to why something is happening to one of your friends, or feel the need to come up with a solution. though job's friend's fell into that trap the second time, they had it right the first; they showed up, felt his pain, and sat with him in it.

now if you'll excuse me, i have some letters to write. some of my friends are going through the thick of it and could use a little encouragement themselves. [i practice what i preach].

i have a hard time going to church these days, and i'm going to tell you why.

1) 'picture' perfect lights.

we tend to spend more money on bright lights [and skinny jeans], and more time instagramming [very intimate] moments of others worshipping or praying with one another instead of 'entering in' [how's that for church lingo?].

2) and more importantly, it has become too 'me' focussed, and as a result, has started to produce quite the selfish culture.

sadly, i find church culture to be all about the consumer these days [what we did or didn't like about the service, how much it fed our feelings and emotions, how good it made us feel etc], and less about Christ and the people around us [inside and outside of the church].

"i didn't like the songs we sang today".

"i didn't get anything out of it"

"i didn't like how ..."

and the list goes on.

and i find the messages reflect this, too.

i wont list the sermons i have been listening to lately, because my point here isn't to bash specific churches [or pastors], but to shed light on a few things that i believe need to be addressed. [surely i can't be the only one thinking this].

almost every sermon i have heard lately has to do with ... me and my comfort level. [see a pattern here?]

"you are loved" [which is true].

"you are victorious" [also true].

"your past is your past, who cares about the choices you've made, keep moving forward" etc. [also true to an extent].

"God will bring you through" [you guessed it - true]

and the list goes on.

but here's the thing.

following [and imitating] jesus requires us to 'take up our cross' [more church lingo], and faith and love require action.

being a christian [which essentially means christ follower] should be uncomfortable.

uncomfortable in the sense that we are constantly reflecting on the crap in our lives, and adjusting accordingly. it's easy [and comfortable] to acknowledge God as our strength, comfort, healer, hope, and whatever other attributes benefit us, but not so comfortable to acknowledge him as our potter, and allow him to mould us, and change us into his image.

uncomfortable in the sense that we are putting others before ourselves [without compromising self-care or boundaries], like philippians 2:3-4 refers to ever so bluntly.

and uncomfortable in the sense that love requires action and sacrifice, which jesus so happened to model perfectly when he humbled himself and hung on the cross.

going through what i'm going through now with my mom has sent me into a deep time of reflection, and with that comes me reflecting on my faith and church, which in turn has me meditating on certain scriptures, such as the one below:

"what good is it, my brothers and sisters, if someone claims to have faith but has no deeds? can such faith save them? suppose a brother or a sister is without clothes and daily food. if one of you says to them, “go in peace; keep warm and well fed,” but does nothing about their physical needs, what good is it? in the same way, faith by itself, if it is not accompanied by action, is dead" [james 2:14-17]

when all is said and done, there is a time to pray for someone and 'wish them well', and a time to show up and put your faith and love into action.

disclaimer: i don't sit here and write this from a pedestal; i'm the first to admit that i, too, can choose comfort over discomfort and act selfishly at times [in fact, i can actually recount a few specific times where i acted in a selfish manner this week alone]; my point is this: that we [and that includes me] as believers can do better. i may not like where the church is heading, but i believe in it with all of my heart.

things i learned in 2015:

biking to toronto takes a lot longer than taking the train, but is far more beneficial.
growth is a slow and painful process, but the outcome is worth it.
though painful at times, change is inevitable, and good for you.
jumping out of a perfectly good airplane is exhilarating.
you cant force someone to love you, or stick by you.
baseball has the ability to unite a whole city.
i spend most of my time in coffee shops.
there's nothing like a good bat flip.

things i'm still learning as i make my way into 2016:

you can't expect things from people who are incapable of giving, unwilling to give, or simply cannot give.
your own health [physical, mental, emotional and spiritual] should take priority over others.
the way people treat you has less to do with you, and more to do with them.
cancer has the ability to steer you off course if you let it.
support can come from the most unlikely of places.

things i expect this year:

i expect to move forward; to keep building my dream/non profit/ministry, to hand out a butt load of water bottles during operation hydration, to love harder, complain less, and read more.

above all else, i vow to to never stop learning, to never stop growing, and to always strive to be a better me.

happy new year, everyone.

i warn you, this is going to be the most raw [and most random] blog i have ever written; a blog that contains #nofilter [and bad grammar].

i'm really pissed off. like destructively pissed off. and by destructive, i don't mean hurting myself [let's be serious - i would have done so a long time a go if i wasn't so chicken] or hurting anyone else intentionally; by destructive i mean packing a knapsack and disappearing forever, without a trace, because, well, i'd rather be alone and know why i'm alone than lay in bed at night and wonder why.

everyone in my family has someone to lean on through this, but i don't. not to that extent any ways. you know, someone who's obligated to be there for me, and sit with me when i feel at an all time low, like i do now. someone who gets me [though i am starting to realize that no one really does]. someone who can just sit with me and not expect me to entertain them, or even talk when i don't have the energy to. someone i'm comfortable enough to cry in front of, and who can hold me as i do.

this week was deeply traumatic for me. my life crumbled beneath me when i got a phone call on monday afternoon telling me that the doctors needed us all to come in and say goodbye to my mom, who, to my knowledge, was doing well half an hour before when i checked in on her. the next seven hours were the scariest hours of my life. i paced around the house, pleading with God to allow my mom to stay alive until i got there, praying that someone would pick up their phone and make that moment feel less scary and less lonely for me, all the while dropping f bombs, because, let's face it, sometimes dropping an f bomb is the most therapeutic thing one can do.

i was relieved [and so very thankful] when i got to the hospital and saw my mom sitting up and smiling. i know God heard my prayer [and my f bombs, and still loves me the same].

yet, it was a week of ups and downs. one day, mom was fine, and the next, not so much.

on top of this, i feel like an outcast in my own family, and didn't find much support from them while i was there, in fact, the complete opposite was true. [out of respect for them, i'll keep the detail to myself; i realize we're all dealing with the stress of this in our own way].

one night, when my mom was up talking about us, she said, "adam's really good at computers, amanda's really good at making cakes, and paula, i'm not so sure what she's good at". i cant stop thinking about those words; they've been replaying in my mind like a broken record ever since.

i'm all alone in life.

my mom doesn't know what i'm good at.

she's dying, my dad's gone, and i'm really pissed off about both.

i'm pissed off that God designed me with such a desire to have a family of my own, and yet i'm alone and barren at 35, and everyone else in my life has a spouse, or a boyfriend, and most of them, kids.

i'm angry that i was created an emotional being, that i battle depression and anxiety, and that, although i've been able to conquer my mental illness day to day, situations like this send me on a downward spiral.

and lastly, i'm mad that most of my closest friends are absent and think it's suffice to text me to let me know they've been 'too busy' to text me, when i have done nothing but show up for them when they've needed me to.

or maybe, just maybe, all of the anger i feel is misplaced. who knows.

but what i do know is that i'm not doing very well these days, and plan on spending the day with my reliable buddies, netflix and shuteye.

sorry, forrest, i love chocolate and all, but to me, life is more like ... a good game of snakes and ladders.

you see, you gotta take life one square at a time. sometimes, the dice work in your favour, and sometimes, they don't. either way, you gotta keep going, and keep moving on up.

there are days when you'll land on a snake, and end up back at square one. [no pun intended]. a breakup. demotion. reoccurring sickness. you name it. all you know is that you were ahead, and now you're behind.

of course there are days where your life meets a ladder, too. an engagement. promotion. inheritance. whatever. you have no idea how you gained so much ground, but you're happy you did.

but either way, life happens one step - or one roll - at a time.

most of you have been following my family and i's journey with cancer.

this morning, my mom went into her long awaited appointment to look into getting a permanent drain put in, and walked out having to temporarily admit herself into the hospital due to her lungs needing to be tapped. my sister's phone died, but last i heard, they drained two litres of fluid from her lungs and were proceeding with her all too familiar abdomen draining procedure next. i don't know much at this point, none of us do, but one thing i do know is this: even the most seemingly long and confusing snakes can't stop us from playing the game. pass the dice, please.

update: they drained my mom's abdomen and set her up to be drained three times a week through homecare. she's at home resting now, and will continue to do so until we get her multiple xray and test results back.

ps. please don't mistake my generally positive attitude as a sign of denial; i am fully aware of what is at stake here and have experienced many weak and heart wrenching moments along the way, too.