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MY MUSINGS
MY MUSINGS

In My Feelings

August 3, 2018 4,939 Comments
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I live for the moments when God brings me someone who forever alters my life in a good way.  I am so blessed to have had countless encounters like this. One of them may have been with you.  I get more of these ‘God moments’ as I’ve taken to calling them, than I deserve. Yet they keep coming and I am continually grateful.  I love to live through other people’s experiences.  I love to share my own.  I truly believe we are all intrinsically connected by the thread of life.  I want the experiences of my life to make your life more beautiful.  And I want yours to shape who I am.

I wish I was only shaped by those people and experiences that bring me joy and change my life in wonderful ways.  The longer I live the more I realize that seldom are things as straight forward as I would like.  I think life is like a ball of yarn.  We each have our own unique preferences, life experiences, hurts, joys, purpose and plans; in essence, our own colour.  But life was never meant to be composed of just our colour.  We come into contact with other people’s yarn as we move through life. Our ball of yarn inevitably gets tangled with those we love, those we have hurt, those that have hurt us, and even some that are completely on the periphery who we are ambivalent to.  All of these, even the ones we don’t readily acknowledge, shape our life. One interaction has the ability to change our life forever; good or bad, while others have less noticeable effects.

This last couple of weeks have been really hard for me. I have been searching for meaning and attempting to understand a yarn of destruction that entered my life long ago. This yarn changed the trajectory of my life and has also affected those I love most in painful ways.  It was unfair.  It was uncalled for.  It was not my doing. And yet, I was forever changed.  It has been my truth.

Sometimes we are part of the mess, other times we are the victim of it. I was a victim to it, but I want to refuse to be a victim and bound by that black thread of destruction. The whole of my being wants this. This ball of yarn is mine. How do I untangle the string that has wounded me?

As I search I come across a beautiful truth.  A piece of yarn is made up of many fibers twisted together to make one strand. But the yarn can be unfurled and each individual strand becomes apparent.  My soul rejoices.

I have been carrying that black thread twisted into my strand for much of my life. But, I can untwist the threads which means I can extricate the black.  I do not have to accept carrying it around any longer. In this manner, I can take control of my own truth. I didn’t have control of the black thread being woven into mine, but I can focus on what control belongs to me. I begin to untwist…

I forgive.  Untwist.

And Again.  Untwist.

These choices are mine. 

I reestablish some boundaries.  Untwist.

They are healing and helpful for me, and allow me to move forward confidently.

I recognize that while I was not responsible for this particular destruction, I share responsibility in hurting other people and somewhere on the planet is someone extricating my black thread from their yarn.  Untwist.

I forgive myself.  Untwist

I begin finding love and worthiness in my own colour yarn. The re-twisting begins.

I was a victim.

I am not now.

It was not my choice back then. 

It is mine my choice to make now.

I am learning to live my life as a process, and accept that which is mine to accept.  I long to find beauty within the mess and the grace that is mine. As I untwist I replace the pain with the larger truth available to me.  A new truth.  One that sees me affected and changed – but all for the better.

I unequivocally believe it is available for me, and for you.

Untwist…

Xox

Layna

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Written by: Layna
Blog MY MUSINGS

Making Moments Count

July 22, 2018 5,123 Comments
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It was 2 am and I was sound asleep, wrapped tightly in my Care Bear comforter.  My mother was gently jostling me awake. “Come on sweetie, get up.  I’ve got a surprise for you”.

I wiped the sleep from my eyes and followed her, not sure where we were going or why.  Laid out on our multi-toned mustard yellow shag carpet was the most perfect picnic I could imagine – Happy Pop and a box of Old Dutch salt & vinegar chips. I could scarcely believe my eyes. Pop was a special treat and so were chips; to get them both at the same time felt like Christmas!

And there we sat, whispering and devouring the salacious snacks.  Just the two of us, under the cover of night, and on the floor in the living-room.  It felt like the most perfect moment of all time to my seven year old self. My thirty seven year old self appreciates it even more.

I was the eldest of 4 children, and one-on-one time was hard to come by.  My parents were building a farm, money was tight and with six of us living in a trailer, personal space and quiet time were basically non existent.  My mother was the ultimate helper to my father; making sure the home fires were burning while he was working tirelessly building his dream.  She made do with very little and yet somehow never made us feel like we were wanting for anything. She had a way of making moments count. 

She had a way of turning 4 McDonald’s cheeseburgers, 1 large fries and a pop to share into “dinner out”. She had a way of turning mundane tasks like cleaning the house, into a game where we all fought to pick the next room we cleaned out of a hat.  She took us for wagon rides to pick vegetables out of the garden for dinner, she bribed us with packs of hockey cards and rides in the front loader of the tractor to pick rocks in the fields.  

She made our simple life rich.  We had no money, but we had wealth.  When there wasn’t enough hours in the day to get to all four children, she woke up at 2 am.

As a mother of three, I find myself looking back in awe of what she created, often out of nothing.  My mother viewed parenthood as an opportunity to make memories. It was and is the fabric of her being.  

Circumstances are now different.  The little farm is now a big farm and has gone on to be quite successful. The four of us children have grown up and moved out, but her desire to make moments count has not changed.  She realizes that her available moments with us are less now as we all have families of our own.  But she is not deterred.  Just like she got creative and found time in the middle of the night so many years ago, she gets creative now.  One day she called me out of the blue to inform me that Pantone had released the color of the year and it was burgundy.  Cool mom.  Thanks.  Then she let me know I had 24 hours and $150 to go buy myself something I loved in burgundy. Cool mom THANKS!!!

Recently she whisked my eleven year old daughter off to Victoria for a weekend of baby cousin snuggles, and facials at the fanciest spa.  My mom is likely to create a moment you will not forget, at least five times a year.  Age, money and circumstances only change the how, not the what.  She is a master at making moments count, and weaving a lifetime of memories, one moment at a time. 

The memories she made with us as children have been the catalyst in my own memory making with my children.  I have built block towers, constructed forts, played pirates, learned how to make fancy cut out cookies.  I’ve fished for slugs in a pond, I’ve skated on closed outdoor rinks with no lights and horrible ice because when your son wants to spend time with you when he’s 13 you say yes to anything.  

I’ve eaten pizza in my mini van and listened to music too loud with my eldest son, I’ve taken my daughter out of school to Pizza Hut for all you can eat buffet lunch as a surprise, I’ve crawled through playroom tunnels with my littlest one.  And while I haven’t always enjoyed the making of each of these memories, the memories, not the inconvenience, is what warms my heart.  And it is how my children will remember their childhood.  

My mother gave me so much more than a midnight pop and chip party.  She gave me a sense of adventure.  She taught me to color outside the lines.  She taught me that a moment in time can fuel a lifetime. And most importantly, she gave me a legacy to continue with my own children, and the privilege to continue experiencing it with her as an adult child.

xoxo

Layna

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Written by: Layna
Blog MY MUSINGS

Why I Do The Annoying Things & You Should Too

July 5, 2018 5,243 Comments
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It was 3:30, it was 30 degrees and I just wanted the kids to get in the van so I could get home, and put my feet up before the dinner prep craziness began. From the depths of my mini-van came a request for pink lemonade from Alexa and her best friend Halle. We are famous among friends for our sparkling pink lemonade. I could feel my eyes rolling into the back of my skull as the words “sure sweetie” came out of my mouth. I knew this meant a trip to the grocery store and, if history were any kind of predictor (and it usually is), a lemonade stand.

When Jeff and I got married we discussed the things that were important to us. We both agreed we wanted our home to be a place that our children’s friend’s wanted to come to, and felt like part of the family. We also wanted to be a family that made great memories. It is because of these goals I knew I would say yes to the lemonade request, before I had a chance to say no.

It wasn’t about pink lemonade. It was about me weighing the larger questions in life. Did I want five minutes of rest or did I want to cultivate memories and encourage spontaneity more?

Is it inconvenient – yes. Is it often annoying – sure. Does it serve our end goal – absolutely.

After I had picked up the kids from school, arranged playdates, went to the grocery store, made an after school snack I was finally able to sit down with my journal and my chai latte. As if on cue… “Mom, can Halle and I set up the lemonade stand?” In my head I screamed, “NOOOOOO!!!!”

But – my chai would wait. It would need to be reheated, but it could be reheated. My journal would still be there waiting for my return to complete the sentence left unfinished. There were memories to be made, and they wouldn’t wait. So I got up, and decided right then and there to be a joyful helper.

And you know what, I had fun!

The lemonade stand was precious; complete with handmade signs, donations to charity and Drake bumping on a blue tooth speaker. It was a chance to meet some of our neighbors and to see the sweetness of humanity. One customer touched my heart. He was a young guy, about Austin’s age, with hand still black from a hard day’s work, and a $5 bill. He didn’t want the lemonade as much as he wanted to support these young girls and their charitable hearts. They were thrilled to have a customer and I was thrilled to see the moment that surely would have made his momma so proud. These are the moments I would have missed if I would have chosen my chai.

This is legacy building 101. Everyday, in small, tiny, and if we are being honest, often annoying, ways, we are creating the construct of “normal” for our children. We are writing love onto their hearts with our actions. These actions look different when they are born, and when they are 11 and even more so when they are 21. But they are love. Building the lemonade stand was an act of love for an 11 year old heart. Small. Simple. Pure.

And so it will go on.

This is my offering to my children, to the world around me, and to the next generation. Our home is a safe place to come, to be seen, to be loved. It is a place where you matter and a place where you are wanted, cherished, loved and never an inconvenience. How is that achieved? Cutting up apples and sandwiches for high tea, buying extra remote controls for the PS4, running to Walmart for pink lemonade and helping to build the most kick ass lemonade stand of all time. And capturing this present moment so we can journey back and touch this space and time again.

So when you are asked to do the annoying things, I pray that you will pause and ponder the larger question you are being asked.

And when it doesn’t fit into the box of what you want to DO,

but fills to overflowing the box of what you want to HAPPEN,

that you say YES

and that it gives you and your children a double blessing.

Xoxo

Layna

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Filling in the Gaps – Father’s Day Feelings

June 16, 2018 4,936 Comments
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Father’s Day brings pain-filled emotions to the surface for me. I was born by one dad and raised by another. Although I was given two fathers, I never got to experience the love of a daddy. Through time and circumstances, the end result is that have no real relationship with either, and I wished I had a relationship with both. I had a grandfather who filled this role for me and loved me like I was his very own. I treasured him every moment of his life, but he is gone to heaven now and all I have left are the memories. Father’s Day is a tangible reminder of what I am missing and it leaves a gaping hole in my heart.

For many years I allowed myself be dragged under by the current of emotions on Father’s Day which had the ability to suck me to the depths. I decided this was not the way I wanted to live.

Life often doesn’t go the way in which we hoped, or dreamed or even planned.

It has been a process of mourning, accepting and moving on to gratitude. From this heart posture and vantage point I can see all the places God has worked to stitch together my hurting heart and the people he has lovingly given me to fill in the gaps.

His name is Jeff.

Once upon a time we met when we were but children ourselves and together determined that we wanted to do better, and be more. We linked arms and sealed it with rings and a kiss and set out naively on this journey of marriage and parenthood. Naivety is a gift. I think if anyone were to know the truth about parenting and how hard it is, there would be no human race!

Jeff cares. This sounds so basic but let me assure you it is far from simple. On a day to day basis Jeff places being a great husband and father at the top of his to do list. He comes home from work, (often after commuting 3 hours on top of his work day) and kids and I get a kiss before he has put his bag down, changed his clothes or even taken off his shoes. He helps with things that need to be done; never complaining, always an active participant. He wants to know how our day has been and what’s taken place in the world around us. He cares about how we are feeling about it. He’s given us all a deep love for hip hop music, most of us a love for basketball, and more than all of that, he has created the foundation for all members of our family to love and to be loved. He plays monopoly when he would rather be relaxing, he coaches team sports, he reads stories, he has pillow fights – he values quality time and he makes it happen. Because he cares.

He loves being married to me. I never question this for a moment. He listens to me, challenges me, he fights fairly, he kisses me, tells me I beautiful, he encourages me and pushes me to be the best woman I can be. Jeff believes in me, often more than I believe in myself. He dates me, sends me off on girl’s night out and even faithfully endures The Bachelor. He buys me flowers from Costco every week, because he knows I love them and because he is aware that our children are watching and learning. This is another way he demonstrates his intentionality in nurturing me as his wife.

Jeff has taught me what love is.

 

 

He has shown me what a daddy looks like and he has set the bar very high for what a spouse and father should be, for our children. To me he is the finest man walking the planet.

His name is Bert.

Once upon a time I met a homeless man that stole my heart. He had no one, and so I quickly became his someone. Having a relationship with a man who battles mental health issues, addictions, and homelessness, has been full of highs and lows. It is often exciting, sometimes heart breaking, and always loving. I believe this is the closest thing I have felt to the love of my grandfather since his passing. Bert has taken me to levels of sadness I never experienced with my Grandpa, but my Grandpa was well and Bert is not. But the heart of how these men loved me – that root is the same. The root love that is beyond proud of me, would do anything for me, adores my children and loves without condition – my heart recognizes that as the same.

His name is Jim.

Once upon a time a man scared me half to death when I walking to get the mail! He apologized for startling me and introduced himself as James Brown. Immediately, “I Feel Good” started playing in my mind and I commented on his famous his name. This lead to a great conversation about his name, his career, and how he has stepped away from his law firm to take care of his precious wife Jeanie who was battling ALS. As we parted ways I heard the words “I don’t know if you believe in prayer, but I do, and I will pray for Jeanine” come out of my mouth. It was a weird moment for me and I figured this man I just met thought I was crazy, but something compelled me to say it.

I’ve honed my online sleuthing skills and it wasn’t long before I found James’ email address. I wrote to him letting him know what a pleasure it was to meet him and to see how Jeanie was. It was through email exchanges that we both came to realize how God had perfectly orchestrated our meeting. We were bound to meet as our lives intersected at numerous points and in fascinating ways. Turns out he didn’t think I was crazy after all.

James is now “Jim” as his friends call him. I feel fortunate to get to be included in this category. It is a pleasure getting to know this kind, wise man who is so clearly loved by all. Jim’s house is as lavish, as it is filled with warmth. The tea is always on, great conversation abounds, friends and family come and go ceaselessly and there is always a place for you. And me.

As Bert has become more unstable, and isn’t able to be much of a presence in my life, I can see how God has brought me Jim. He is inspiring, he is kind, he is hospitable, he is brilliant and considerate. I have learned so much from Jim, just by watching. His faith is strong and he is an avid studier of the Bible and his perspectives are so interesting. He is teaching me things my Grandfather would have taught me. He has a spot at his table for me, just as my Grandfather had for me; when I have all the answers or when I have none. Jim Brown is a man of the same caliber as my Grandpa and I see reflections of the man I treasured, in him. I see God in him. I see God’s love in him. I see God’s love for me in him.

As I have actively sought after God’s heart for me, I have been able to see him as a perfect father. It has been a process and a journey, one that I am still on, and one that I have found to be the biggest game changer of all. To know love is the greatest human aspiration in my opinion. We are wired for it. I also believe we often have to give it before we can learn to see it, know it, experience it, and accept it.

Self examination told me I didn’t want to be tossed around by life’s circumstances and necessitated I did something different. I started to give love. I wanted to feel love. It may not have come from the places my heart was desiring, but that in no way diminishes the love I have found. When God feels far, I have to look no further than the people who surround me with love, that he has given to me.

On Father’s Day this year, I will celebrate fully the man who is the best father on earth. I will celebrate my perfect father above, and I will do my best to bless them both. Jeff’s gifts have been purchased and are waiting to be unwrapped (or uncorked!) on Sunday. And the gift I am giving to my heavenly father is the gift of blessing someone else. My charity Experience Kaleo, will be blessing a single mom with a $100 to spoil herself with. When I was a young single mother myself, my mother did this for me, and I know how touching it is to be seen and honored for doing the job of two, as one.

If you have a hurting like like mine, I encourage you to look for your gap fillers, and to honour the one who gave them to you, by blessing them or someone else. You will be glad you did. Happy Father’s Day from my stitched up-grateful heart to yours.

Xoxo

Layna

A FEW PICS OF MY FAVOURITE FATHER MAN: 😉

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Layna Haley is a force.  It's a single word that so aptly describes who she is because it's one word that can encompass so many things.  Layna Haley became a Mom at 16 years old.  She knows what it means to struggle, learn, teach, nurture and at the same time developing her own self identity.  She's "Mom" to 3 now, a wife, an entrepreneur with a mission to give back.  Her own journey pushed her towards creating a way to break through and help single Moms who are struggling.  She started Kaleo Collective with a mission to help single mothers create a safe, stable home life, and the opportunity to realize HER full potential which  allows her to help her CHILDREN realize theirs. Kaleo Collective comes alongside and offer community, compassion, encouragement and practical help, though their unique single mom focused programs. 

We can’t wait to have her join us, register at the link in bio! 👩🏼‍💻
Accepted. Thank you @singlemamathriving & @margaux Accepted. Thank you @singlemamathriving & @margaux_gaux_gaux 

“I've learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.” ~Maya Angelou
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My life story was defined July 9, 1997 when this p My life story was defined July 9, 1997 when this precious baby was welcomed into my 16 year old arms; every choice after, defined by his existence. 💞 I am everything I am today because of my choice to say yes to being his mommy. Not a choice I made lightly. Not a choice that wasn’t without pain. Not a choice I have ever regret. 👱🏽‍♀️👶🏼
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Elevate: Forgiveness with Layna Haley, founder of @kaleocollective is happening on June 9th!

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