Grandma

   My grandma has been gone a while now and I can still hear her voice and see her smile clear as day. She was my mom's mom and she lived in a small village by a lake. She had grown up on a farm in the prairies with no running water or electricity and went to barn dances in a sleigh drawn by a horse. She didn't talk about this much but late in life when she lost a lot of her eye sight she wrote books of poetry and talked about this. I read these poems to my children often. At her funeral my uncle set out flowers and my aunties set out her quilts, and these are just a few of them that were hung all over the walls of the large hall that we gathered at. She was such an artist and she used her winters to make quilts. They  are so beautiful to me and I treasure the ones I have. She loved her flower gardens and canning and she grew food as well. She sewed her grandaughters dresses and she sewed some of her own clothes. She was an amazing cook and her food tasted like home. She made Christmas decorations and pillows and delighted in hiking and reading and music. She supported my grandpa in his unique and obessive interests and worked hard all her life. She loved me a lot and some of my most comforting and happy memories are with her. I am so grateful for my grandma and there are so many days still where I long to be able to go over to her house, knock on her door, wait for a long while for someone to answer, and then be welcomed in. I am a grandmother myself now and I hope and pray I can offer the same care, creativity, and support that my grandmother offered to me. 

A Family Reunion

  My husband comes from an extended family of well over two thousand people. Yes, right now the count is at about almost two thousand five hundred  people give or take a few! There is going to be a family reunion and so there has been a book compiled that we just got a few days ago. Many families have contributed pictures and we live in a relatively small town. It was astounding to see pictures of people we know but had no idea we were related to! It all started with two people who got married in 1920 and had twelve children together. Each of their children had from six to eleven children each. From one of their children came eight hundred and seven descendants alone. 

  I did not know the exact number of children that I wanted to have when I started this journey and at my age now I wish I could have had more. The work load is more than I can manage. The stress is more than I can manage but the blessing is also just beyond measure. Children are everything good the Bible says they are. They are such a blessing and heritage. In starting out my parenting journey I never really internalized how big my family could grow to. When my oldest got married I realized that one day I may have twelve children if each of them get married and that if they each have children just how big my family might get. To me this means so much. My family means so much to me and there is such a weight in wanting them to know the love of God and also the security and beauty attachment brings. I am locked in to serving and loving them all my days. I adore this life even in my failings and frailty. It is such a gift. Who knows how many descendants my husband and I will have and how they will struggle and persevere and also how they will be victorious. Prayer is powerful and love is powerful. I want to hold that close. 

Tansy

Generational Trauma

  I have been feeling the weight of generations lately. I talked to my mother a few days ago and was reminded of her journey through life. I felt a lot of grief, and this got me thinking about my grandfathers and beyond them as well. I have a whole mix of ancestral shores. My folk come from Ireland, Scotland, England and more. Why did they come to Canada and what were their circumstances? How did we get the genetic illnesses that we have in our genes? I have so many questions and not many answers. 

  Some of my children are reaching adulthood and my first biological child has always struggled deeply. I believe they are a highly sensitive individual and they have extra high anxiety coupled with Ehlers Danlos Syndrome and other things. I am essentially a genetic dumpster fire of unknowns and have passed on many things I didn't know I had to my children. My paternal grandfather fought through the Second World War starting in his teen years. I believe he was a highly sensitive person that would not have been given many tools to manage that sensitivity. I think after the war the trauma would have been beyond cruel to his body and brain. He brought eight children into the world. My maternal grandfather had a famous father who was rarely home. His mother died from cancer when he was a young adult I believe. He was an artist really, and so highly sensitive and probably anxious as well. This came out of both men in various forms of abuse. My mother managed this by becoming highly controlling and manipulative and my dad had very low capacity for managing his big emotions at home. He also ended up choosing the worst possible job for his mental state but excelled at it in public. At home he could not cope with the fallout of the job. It's just been a cruel reality for myself and my siblings and then now I am raising six children of my own and I see the fallout of my failure in the struggles of my oldest children. I take full responsibility and also recognize the weight of the generations of trauma that get handed down and down and down. I have wanted to mitigate the effects of trauma somehow for my children but didn't really know how and finding out how is not an instant process. I have caused them trauma in various ways. It is such a nightmare. There is SO MUCH to learn and to heal from and how? How? HOW? It doesn't just magically come ~ the healing ~ it takes a life time because it comes from my DNA and from my childhood and from it all! 

 I wanted to say too ~ and I write this with tears ~

My ancestors were hard workers, they were smart (some of them geniuses), and they were survivors. My ancestors were kind and giving people (very giving). They were very creative. They loved nature and animals and beauty. The sea called to their souls. They felt peace in nature and on water. They were writers, master gardeners, musicians, and could express themselves through song and verse. They were handsome and tall and small and tough. They fished and wrote books, and farmed, and influenced and sang. They danced and served and gave and gave. I am so thankful to them for that. I want to be more, I want to heal more. I want to draw people in rather than repel people away. I want to be able to handle rejection and cruelty with grace and maturity and I want to hold my children with such gentleness and love. 

Walking around in a highly sensitive body with generations of trauma is not for the weak.

I am not weak

You are not weak

There is strength to draw on 

Not just from you or from myself

But from the Holy Spirit 

From God

And that is lasting and powerful and makes a difference. It also brings the most powerful sense of hope and peace. 

So as I recognize both the struggles and the beauty that come from my ancestors, and as I see the struggles and the beauty in my own children, I hope to bring honour and healing to this family through hard work, through commitment, and through grace. It is worth it ~ so worth it ~ but turning a tide? It won't be impossible but it will take all I have!

xo

Tansy

August

  August has been when we really felt like Summer was summer! The garden produced beans and flowers and a zucchini or two. The sun shone warm and sultry and the house was hot and humid. We jumped in the pool over and over again and ate numerous popsicles. Different sections of  the family went off on various holidays and had fabulous adventures. 

This summer all my children and my grandchild are in my house. It is so special seeing everyone grow and blossom in the sunshine. We have had some special guests come to visit that have warmed my heart deeply. We have gone on little excursions to the park, the zoo, or for ice cream that have felt reminiscent and magical. June and July were quite hard to be honest. August has just been amazing. Now the reality of September is descending and for me it is always a looming feeling. I only have three children to homeschool this year. It should be a breeze. It is never a breeze. I just hope there are many lovely moments of connection, joy and learning, that hugely overshadow the feelings of chaos and anxiety that coincide with homeschooling for me. I know my brain does not operate the most optimally and I am well versed in navigating its issues but homeschooling magnifies its shortcomings!

 I have so deeply appreciated these weeks ~ August 2025 ~ where my grandson got his first front tooth, and where my son turned eleven, where my six year old and I sewed a little bear, where my one year old started talking so much and changed into a toddler, where my fourteen year old had a boy have a crush on her, where my eighteen year old had the most fun he has had in years. If only I could bottle this up and remember it. 

May your last couple weeks of August hold beauty and joy for you.

God bless

Tansy xo

Poppy

 Poppy

I see a Poppy bloom

It's delicate petals wrinkled and sticky

So new

And it had to bloom

Bravely, beautifully, openly

And it is only for one day really

Hours of rich color looking to the sun

And then its petals descend

My days have been many

Have I been brave, open, beautiful?

Have I truly bloomed?

I came vulnerable, crying for connection

I came needing sunshine and water

I came needing.

After the beauty of the Poppy

Came the seeds

The cycle to continue on

The bravery and the vibrancy

To live again

I do not know my hour

I do not know the number of my breaths

I cannot store up lasting anything

Here

And oh to bloom, to glow, to lift up my head,

To feel that I was worthy too

Or to never question but to live it however long or short

Like the Poppy

My Second Graduate

  In May of 2025 my son graduated high school. He homeschooled from grade one to grade twelve. School for him was incredibly challenging. He did not learn to read until he was nearly twelve and writing is not something he enjoys. I often have felt like I was pulling him kicking and screaming through this school journey and it was incredibly hard for both of us. With this being said when he graduated he refused any sort of celebration. He found graduating terrifying but also because he hated the school work so much it was a relief. It has been so complicated and so exhausting and so hard and yet he did it. We did it. Along the way he had tutors that encouraged him and blessed him and inspired him. He had many moments of laughter and times when learning was amazing (he just does not remember them). 

  My hope for him is that he finds that who he is in God is enough. My hope is he pursues health and healing. My hope is that he feels loved and cherished and that he feels brave. Here are some photos he let me take of him to remember this season of life. 

Photos of Life

There is so much joy 

So much joy