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Ten things of thankful-missing my Mom

by Jeanine Lebsack

I’ve been writing all day, furiously scribbling and typing out my feelings. Today is a day I dread more than ever the anniversary of my Mom’s death. I cry, write, read stories we wrote together, and listen to her favourite Elvis music. Two weeks ago I shared my list of thankfuls for my dear Dad. Today I will share about my Mom. She was my gift and I will love and miss her till my last breath. I’m proud to share my memories and thankfulness on the TTOT linkup with Lizzi and her ever faithful thankful family.

I’m so thankful that my Mom decided to have me her sixth child and third daughter. She was older yet I think she knew that I was meant to be. I was sickly when I was born so I’m thankful I got to spend that extra week in the hospital bonding with her. She would tell me stories of how I would look up at her as she fed me with this baby face and bright blue eyes of wonder.

I’m thankful that she taught me the magic of books and how to read. My life has been full of all the adventures I’ve taken myself on with my love of words and wonderful memories. I loved when she would read to me and change the inflection of her voice and turn a story book into an interactive experience.

I’m thankful for her beautiful smile even when she was tired as I wasn’t much of a sleeper as a child. She would read to me and T ell me stories she’s made up on the spot. She was so loving, kind, caring and an amazing story teller. She loved her children and Grandchildren with all her being. She was proud to show off pictures that graced her walls and upright piano. As beautiful as she was she just glowed when she held a child on her lap.

I’m thankful for her brilliance. She wanted to be a teacher but she didn’t want to leave her parents to go away to study. She was very close to them as their only child. So instead she worked around town, met my Dad and fell in love. First came marriage, and many baby carriages and she had herself a full family to teach.

I’m thankful for her gift of laughter. She could always find the humour in something. She would look for the silver lining and say this too shall pass sadness doesn’t always last. She had a beautiful laugh that would rise up from her toes and she’d slap her knee in emphasis. She taught me how to impersonate characters on tv and in the movies. I would get her into a fit of giggles when I’d do my Tim Conway impression from the Carol Burnett show.

I’m thankful for all the times she let me stay up late watching old black and white movies with her. We’d have tea and treats and is watch the classics with her like Gone with the Wind, Citizen Kane, and every Elvis movie we could find. She had quite a collection of his movies that I’m proud to covet today. Our favourite was always his first Love me Tender and I sing it for her when I’m lonely for her presence.

I’m thankful for my memories of singing and doing the dishes with her. She even made a mundane task like that fun. We would sing all the Irish classics and she’d dance a jig around the kitchen. My heart would leap out of my chest as I joined her twirling around until I was dizzy with love and enthusiasm.

I’m thankful for her talent of writing. She was so gifted with her thoughts and expressions and we collaborated on many stories together while in school and after I graduated. She would also make up silly poems and limericks and keep me in stitches with how funny she could be in real life and on paper.

I’m thankful she taught me to be brave and follow my dreams. It’s because of her guidance that I started writing and sharing my heart here on the page. She guides me still and I write for her always in my mind and spirit.

I’m thankful she was my biggest cheerleader and my sounding board. I could and did tell her anything. She knew I could see and feel things about people and never made me feel like I was weird. With being empathic in a very sensory overloaded world was a gift and cross to bear that we both shared. She was my guiding light, truth seeker, lover of people, compassionate, kind, and had the strongest love and faith in God. She gave her heart to those who were deserving. And a piece of her intelligent mind to those who were not.

I’m thankful I’m a Mom myself and I still wonder in situations what would she do or say. There will never be a day I won’t wish for her presence in my life. I have my memories and pictures, but most of all I can look in the mirror and see her there. As well as glowing with love and pure divine light in my children. Love you always and forever Mama. ❤️

life

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Monday Musings-Triggers of the Past

by Jeanine Lebsack

What is it about the past that activate the triggers in your mind from childhood? It’s like those thoughts lay in a locked box deep inside my brain then something happens and then they’re triggered, and opened up to sift through like a filing cabinet of memories. I recently woke up with a stiff neck and had to spend most of my day resting and stretching my overworked muscles.

I started a new fitness program and I was overzealous about it and this is the result. I have to remember I’m not twenty anymore and take it at a less than frantic pace. All I could think about as I lay there feeling sorry for myself was how much I loved to climb as a child. You could find me in trees, on top of the roof of my house, and sitting on my Mom’s upright piano.

There was one time I was climbing like usual after I bounded out of the house after breakfast. I reached out to grab a branch and instead I grabbed a snake! You can imagine my fright as I felt helpless and plummeted to the earth below. I lay there listening to my bones crack I wondered if I could walk and if that snake was going to land on my head. I could see it still in the tree hissing at me like something out of Disney’s Robin Hood.

I never did like that character Sir Hiss as my Mom and Gram had a fear of snakes and all I knew was to fear them as well. My Mom came outside to check on me and saw me lying on the ground. She started screaming, crying, and praying as she tried to find help. All my siblings had left for school and my Dad for work. So she picked me up and brought me into the house.

She laid me softly down on the couch and covered me with my favourite blanket. She put a cool washcloth on my forehead and began to check my head and neck for damage. I was so sore and had a big goose egg on the back of my skull. It hurt to move my neck so I just laid there while my sweet Mama cried and prayed over me.

We lived in a rural community so to find anyone home to take me to the Dr was a slim and none chance. My Mom gave me something for the pain and turned on the tv. She had put my favourite show Sesame Street on and I listened and drifted off to sleep. I survived that fall and many others because I was a climber. Now I have my own child that loves to climb bookshelves, the back of the couch, on top of his bike, and has yet to climb a tree.

This is what I thought about as I lied there in my bed having my pity party unable to turn my head while my sweet little boy looked after me. I don’t do helpless and sick very well, I don’t suppose any of us does. I just wish for my Mom to look after me like she did so long ago. But time has passed on and with it her life has too so I end up wistfully missing her and her tender loving care.

Childhood triggers fill my mind with memories of good days and bad. Songs, games, and old friendships that were so important to me. I think of that old red house that reminded me of a barn on a farm. With the big heater with the stove pipe in the middle of the room. I think of the many hours spent there on my beloved Mama’s lap as she rocked me holding me tightly in her arms. I wish I could go back there for another day feeling that loves and cherished. Instead I lie here in my bed stiff and sore cuddling my child. Who will grow up and have these memories of special times with his Mom.

This brings to mind a poem to fill my wistful grieving heart.

Forget not that the earth delights to feel your bare feet and the winds long to play with your hair.

Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls; the most massive characters are seared with scars.

Ever has it been that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation.

-Rumi

This has been my late edition of #Mondaymusings as I was searching for the linkup that is now being hosted at Everyday Gyann if you’d like to join in here are some tips to take part in #MondayMusings? Here’s how it works:

Write a post sharing your thoughts with us – happy, sad, philosophical, ‘silly’ even. Make it as personal as possible.
Use the hashtag #MondayMusings.

Add your link to the linky which you will find here and on the post of a co-host.

Use our #MondayMusings badge to encourage other bloggers join in too.

Visit and comment on the posts of other bloggers linked here.

Share the love.

life

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#1000 speak- My heart Connection to the ones I love

by Jeanine Lebsack

My story I have to tell is a treasured one, it’s one I think about when I steal away for some quite hours to myself. I’ve moved a lot in my life between parents, Grandparents, and siblings. I have always been searching for that connection I had when I was young when I’d sit around the table drinking cast iron tea (steeped so much it poured out black into my porcelain cup). I would nibble on my Irish scones and laugh with my elders. They would call me a “little tea Granny” and I would feel this amazing heart connection.
As I mentioned earlier I had a wandering spirit and then I met and fell in love with another. We have formed this beautiful union made complete with our children. We have moved due to my husband’s job transfers four times in the last 20 years. Three times as a newly married couple and twice as family. We have now lived in our new home for almost a year. Every town that I live at I strive to make a heart connection. I’ve been blessed to work a lot and able to make friends easily, before marriage. After marriage and children I found the opportunities were plentiful, and my life had become all about parks, play dates, and picnics.

I have met a lot of people and established friendships in every town I’ve lived in. It hasn’t been easy moving so much and making those connections. But I’ve persevered and done my best to socialize with other parents through my son’s schools or sport teams. When I moved from my hometown where I was born and raised, I lived in a town the same size. I worked a lot and my love and I were new to living together. We were in that town for thirteen years and will always feel like home to me. There I was established a heart connection and the best of friends I could ever ask for!

We got engaged there and spent our first few months as a married couple there. When we moved to the city we had been married, bought our first house, and were expecting our first child. It was a whirlwind of moving in, unpacking and seeing all the things I owned after three months. I met friends through my husband’s work and my own. Then I took my maternity leave and along came my precious baby. I attended a baby talk group for parents and met a wonderful group of Mom’s. We all remain friends to this day, and have seen our children grow up together. Over the years the circle grew and spread out as a few of us have moved away. There’s still the four of us that remain heart connected and keep each other in the know of our lives.

We were blessed to live there for six years and with them I found my sisterhood. I then moved on to a smaller town that charmed me with it’s beautiful mountain air, lakes, and forests and reminded me of my hometown. I met the most wonderful neighbour who filled our heart and home with her generosity, kindness, and love. Who took to my children like Grandma would to Grandchildren. She adored them and they loved and cherished her in return. In this town I met some wonderful parents, attended play group with my youngest, and school with my oldest. I went to the same place almost daily where I felt was a safe little cocoon in my life.

While I struggled to sell a home, find a home, and survive hotel living for half a year! I have always loved the theatre so I attended a play with my son and I in costume and connected with each performance from this talented cast. We joined up for their next production and in that time the heart connection was made with my new theatre family. I was blessed with and given a Mom who I fell in love with her giving heart, adorable children, and her strong faith in God and humanity that echoed my own. I found a Mom with incredible visual and artistic talent and a devotion to make a better life for her son then she had for herself.

It was there in that play group I found the yin to my yang with a Mom who’s children were her life line and they were hers. This woman gave so freely from her heart, loved with her whole being, touched lives and hearts with her beautiful smile and friendly manner. It is because of her that I made it through a very long four month stint of solo parenting when my husband got transferred.

She sat with me and laughed and cried over wine, memories of our beloved Mom’s, and the dreams for our children. She looked after my children so I could attend theatre practices, loving them like her own. I was given the gift of friendship with her brilliant mind, heart, and love. Our hearts connected and I’ve never been the same since. And it fills me with great sadness that I have to attend her funeral tomorrow instead of hugging her hello. She flies with the angels now, talks with them, and looks down upon her loved ones with a joy and pride. Fly gently onto thee rest my sweet angel friend. Heaven was made a greater place with your entrance. Until I see you again, I offer this simple prayer.

life

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Writer’s Quotes Wednesday’s

by Jeanine Lebsack

Today I share this quote in lyrics, in honour of my beloved Mama. It’s from one of my favourite songs. Fly to the Angels, by the band Slaughter. Thank you to my Mom, my angel who flies, for bringing me into the world today. 💖

This has been my submission to Writer’s quotes Wednesday’s with the lovely Silver Threading. Please check out hers and all the other talent who link up. Thank you. 💕

life

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Dear Mom, the day I cried when my kettle died

by Jeanine Lebsack

It’s been a rough day with my youngest son who has the SPD (Sensory Processing Disoder) and impending evaluation for ASD (Autism Spectrum Disorder). Transitions are very difficult for him so I made the mistake this morning by saying “let’s get dressed and go do something fun!” I didn’t use his PECS (Picture Example Communication), a visual tool I use so he can see that’s what we’re going to do. Life has been manageable so I just tried talking about it. Big mistake made there, let’s just add that to my ever growing list shall we?

He wouldn’t get dressed so I helped him. Then I got dressed while he undressed. So I sighed audibly and made breakfast. He refused to eat so I turned on the cartoons and went about my online to do list, running my Facebook page and co-admin four others. I carried on with my updates, checking messages, replying to comments, and I looked up to see my son eating. Well that’s one battle avoided. I decided I would get my breakfast and put on the kettle for tea.

I ate, tidied up the kitchen, and went to make my tea. Then I realized my kettle died. All the stress of the morning came to a head and I cried. I burst into tears, and cried till my throat was raw and snot and tears were pouring down my face. I call that the ugly cry of no return. I lost track of how long I cried, my son found me on the floor huddled up into a ball in the fetal position. My Mom bought me that kettle, and it was last gift she ever gave me. It was a painful moment for me the day my kettle died. For a tea lover like me this is a very sad thing! It’s the last gift my Mom gave to me. And now she flies with the angels so I feel the insatiable desire to write about my pain….

I felt so silly crying over a kettle but it’s the memories I have of her and that kettle. Drinking tea, laughing, loving, and sharing our hearts. I miss her so much, and microwave tea water sucks. I just want to sit with my Mom again and babble, banter, and sing like we used to. It doesn’t matter how old we get we just don’t stop needing our parents! Well I’m speaking for myself, but I’ll never forget the day my brother phoned me. He called my cell phone and asked me why I had answered it. I replied “it’s my phone, it rang, so I answered it.” Bitchtastic morning to you too!

I may need to mention I’m not a morning person. He was trying to get ahold of my husband who he thought would have the phone. I knew my Mom was gone so I voiced it, and he said yes and assured me my husband was on his way home. What my brother didn’t know was that our Mom came to me in a dream. She reached for my hand and called me by the pet name she had for me, I reached back and woke up. Just in time to see her disappearing into the ethers as my phone rang. There I sat on the edge of my bed rubbing my very pregnant belly. I was eight months along, alone, and devastated.

My husband arrived home and gathered me up in a hug while our oldest child slept through it all. I collapsed into my loves chest and soaked his shirt with my tears. I close my eyes now and see it all replaying like a movie in my head. How did I survive that trauma to my heart, psyche, and soul? I gave birth to my baby a month premature and had to keep living, loving, and raising my children. I don’t know if I survived it so to speak, I just didn’t have a choice. My family needed me to recover, to be me even if I was just a mere grieving shell of myself. As I get closer to Mother’s Day I try to remember that it’s important to put myself on my list of priorities. Taking back the me I once was is a gift to myself, and to my family.

The only thing I would ask for this Mother’s Day would be the gift of time. Wrapped up in beautiful embossed paper I would find a journal and a beautiful pen to write my thoughts in. Recording those days that are so long with sensory meltdowns, those little conversations my son has with his toys about going to the zoo. Remembering how my oldest son used his problem solving skills, instead of screaming out his pain. A gift certificate to my favourite restaurant where my husband and I could enjoy a date night with each other’s company. A note from a certified special needs caregiver who will stay and look after my children for a few hours of our lives.

*Image found on Pinterest.*

I would love a brand new kettle to make new memories with while sipping my tea and thinking of my Mom. Followed by a gift card to a gardening center to pick up a beautiful plant, soil, and Miracle Grow to plant in my old kettle. A wonderful idea shared by my heart sister friend The Brain. And lastly a box of Kleenex to dry my tears, blow my nose, and a bottle of wine to allow it all to sink in how very blessed I am.

Happy Mother’s Day to you. ❤️

life

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Writer’s Quotes Wednesday

by Jeanine Lebsack

I know it’s Sunday and I’m finally posting. I had to wait till inspiration hit me. So when I was out for a walk the heavens opened up and gave me this. 💞

This has been my contribution to Silver Threading Writer’s Quotes Wednesday’s. Please check out her selection this week, and all the other talent that links up. Thank you. 🌸

life

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Ode to my Mom

by Jeanine Lebsack

Elizabeth Louise was her name.
Loved by everyone who knew her.
Intrinsically gifted with humour and the gift of gab.
Zealous with her love, honesty, and faith.
Amazing with her glowing light of virtue and trust.
Beautiful beyond measure inside and out.
Eloquently soft spoken with a sharp wit.
Talented, gifted, devoted to the ones she loved.
Heart of gold, my best friend, and heroine of my dreams.

This is a poem for my beloved Mama. She was my gift, to my siblings, and the world. Today I wrote this poem for her as part of my Day 3 Blogging 201 assignment. The word trust was the prompt and in the acrostic form of poetry.