What do we give to another versus what we feel we should get from someone else? What if all the hard lessons are not about loss, but about what we gain? This is not to say the loss is irrelevant, or difficult, as it surely is, but once we get past the grief of losing what we felt incapable of living without, can we see the gift in letting it go? Will this put us on a path of connectedness to our higher self or what we perceive as God, Spirit or whatever name you feel comfortable with? This is the thought possessing me this morning as I drink my coffee.
Today is Mother’s Day. There are no gifts, no thank you cards or statements from my children because they chose to not acknowledge me as their mother years ago. Does this make me a bad mother? A terrible person? Maybe. However I recognize that we all lost something important when they made their choice not to have me in their life, whatever their reasons. I suppose it’s true, I also made the choice not to have them in my life, whatever my reasons, something difficult to accept. While for me, the loss has been painful, my thoughts this morning help me see, the gift of their lives has never diminished – they were the best part of me, visible in each unique life which I was fortunate enough to spend time with. Their beautiful souls enriched my life’s journey immensely in a way which never could have been accomplished had they not been born. I say this because they brought with them the reminder I was once held, loved and cherished by my parents. The act of sharing myself with them, allowed memories from my childhood to resurface. Each difficult choice made while they were in my care, a reminder my parents also made difficult choices not understood by me at the time, nor for many years to come. My parents sacrifices became my sacrifices, the loss of my need less important than the safety of my children’s well being. My parents ideals became my ideals, the strength of their convictions lives in me, through me, although my voice is small by comparison. My parents love is becoming my love and my hope is to one day be able to share it with the same passion as they did.
I was ensured a strong and beautiful foundation allowing me to face the rest of my journey without my family. On my path there has been great loss, fear and sorrow. What I see today is how this is what allowed me to return home. If home is where the heart is…..or if home is the love which lives in our hearts, there is understanding this has been the purpose of my journey. This story began before my birth into this life, each life experienced until now led to the loss of home. This life actually was the process of returning. Was there another way? A better way? How can any of us be sure the path we did not take would have ended with better results? Are our ideals and principals more important than what we sacrifice to keep them? If the strength of our morals are the thread connecting us to Gods law, then it seems to me the answer is yes. Living a life which does not uphold Gods law seems rather insignificant at first. However the value of a life lived this way is, with respect, the way we are taught to find home.
Retrieving my journal entries from the last 4 years, as well as my books after the shock of seeing so many files lost, was meant to show me the importance of my journey which in turn lead me to this message of today. An important distinction to be made is the journey was important for me to reflect on, no one else. The journey was for me, if it helped anyone else, then this is a bonus, but the journey was never really to help others. Much of what I experienced, due to the sheer amount of significant entries, meant shelving once more what I was going through. Rereading certain entries has brought me back to the centre or purpose of the journey to South America. At the beginning, my thought was how important it was to share this incredible discovery so others would know. At the back of my mind, it seemed important to share the pain and suffering, my intention to help others on their journey home. Now I see this was never the purpose – it has always been about finding home, finding my connectedness to the Spirits of loved ones who left with me their great gift of love.
If there ever is a reason for me to share my story on a grand scale, I feel it will not be so much to share the pain, but the beauty of returning home. Pain, loss and sorrow is part of all of our lives, some experience more than others as we know. The pain is entwined with the beauty, there can be no separation as this is the Yin Yang of life, the dark and the light create a circle, a wholeness achieved no other way. My life has been incredible! My experiences impossible to believe, to accept or to even read about, yet they are my reason for finding home. Returning to all I was given, everything shelved in a dark corner of my mind, now has the light of open day shining on it for anyone willing to see it. The light, which has been shining off and on, like the hummingbird, has been there for so many others to see even if I myself did not. Those who have come in and out of my life as I make my way noticed this light, recognized the power of its presence (which is love) and filled my life with the presence of theirs. Most have only been part of my journey for a short time, it seems this has been an important part of the lesson for me. This is the power of the hummingbird in my eyes and why it was chosen to represent the project conceived in Ecuador.
If the hummingbird connects us to the spirit of those gone before us as a reminder of the joy and love held with them and if like the hummingbird we choose to reflect or deflect the colors of such beauty, then is it not the perfect mascot of healing? In my mind, after my journey back to self, is to live a life where there is more time sharing the color of joy, rather than living in the darkness of sorrow. This is my new found goal.
Because I have received so much, from so many, I pray I have given others some portion of the treasure I have carried my whole life. That it was hidden for so long behind a veil of fear, saddens me. It is time to make up for so many lost years!
The act of painting my sea turtle over the winter months teaching me as I look at him each day, I have found home. I have found the love in my heart which belongs/ed to so many beautiful, incredible people. They have been my strength, wisdom, truth and light as facing each new challenge brings some reminder of time spent with them. Perhaps my children do not honor me as I honor my father, but because of how much pain I connected to my mother, this is understandable to me. As I learn to love my mother once more in an open way, it becomes obvious how difficult my story was for my own children to accept. Maybe, like me, their love is buried under a mountain of hurt which cannot yet be reconciled, so time may be the answer. Because this is Mother’s Day, it seems very appropriate to be able to share this important post in honor of all my mother gave me. Her grace and strength have penetrated the darkest corners of my heart allowing me to see how much of her I carry. I respect my mother’s choices, although I may not have understood them. I have gratitude for for the strength she gave me because of her choices. I treasure the love she had for my father and for me.
So the question is, could my children recognize this kind of value in me – enough for them to reflect the significance of how much they gifted me? This is important because if I focus on the short time given with my family, the security of having been so loved has been my strength. Had my parents, surrogate parents and grandparents not endowed me with so much love, I would have given up long before being given the choice of dying when I sustained my head injury (spoke of in my last post). If they can remember the love, then there is hope for reconciliation, even if it happens after my death.
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