Saturday, September 19, 2009

The Sea

I saw the sea today, but the sea did not see me.

So many years I've waited.

So many years I've feared this moment.

What would it feel like to fall into the icy blue that once sent my soul reeling?

I've dreamed of our reunion, the salty water, cleansing our wounds, washing away the sadness.

And there I was

Standing.

So close, I could see the sparkle of her waves.

And I stood.

I stood, unable to move, begging to breathe.

Joy, urging me forward.

Fear, demanding I stay.

Twisted and torn, I watched as the sea began her journey home.

MOVE.

STOP.

RUN.

RUN AWAY.

And I stood.

Just as it was, the sea returned.

My presence insignificant.

My dreams, just dreams.

I have learned

I Have Learned Silence From The Talkative,

Tolerance From The Intolerant,

Appreciation From The Ungrateful,

And Kindness From The Unkind.

In anger, I discovered what forgiveness means.

In frustration, I learned to wait a little longer.

In sickness, I learned to appreciate simply living.

I have learned creativity from poverty,

compassion from pain,

joy from sorrow.

In weakness, I found I was stronger than I ever imagined.

Strangly, I Am Grateful For My Teachers and each of my lessons, For They Have Made Me All that I am, and all they will never be...

(part of this is from another quote I found, that got me thinking on all the things I have learned from the things I've experienced in my little world)

Darkness and Light

Sometimes while walking through the forest, the darkness encroaches so slowly that you don't notice that it's there. Your eyes adjust to the lack of sunlight, you move forward, unaware. You never stumble or falter or realize that there is anything at all wrong with your travels.

And by and by the sun begins to rise, a sun you never noticed was missing. A flicker of light makes it's way between the trees, shining onto your pale and sullen face.

At first, you close your eyes, the light being too much to handle. You turn around and try to move away from it. It becomes hard to see. Your focus is lost. You are scared but drawn. You can't move or breathe or feel.

And the light gets brighter. . .

Your eyes begin to adjust to the way things should be. You remember what it was once like to see the details in the world around you. A familiar joy rises up within in you, beckoning your forward. You move faster and step closer anxious to continue to allow your world to brighten. You are chasing the sun, terrified of losing it again, of getting lost in the darkness, unaware.

Can I check the mail?


Can I check the mail? A very simple request my little one has asked me every day this week. I thought nothing of it. I should have.
She's been very obviously stressed for days but not really talking. Today we were cleaning the kitchen together and she asks again if she can check the mail and I tell her that it's too early. She stops for a minute, looking intently into my eyes, searching for the safety to ask her next question.
"Did my mom get my letter cause she hasn't written me back".
Huh?
"I wrote __________ a letter and I put it in the mailbox. I didn't know how to spell her name so I put mom but I know you are my mom."
Oh my....so much sadness in her eyes now and all I know to do is hug her. I tell her that I am not sure if she has gotten yet, buying myself a little time.
She said "I just asked her something and told her that I hate her".
What did you ask her baby?
"I asked her cause she left me and I went to sleep and woke up and things was crawlin on me. Moms don't do that do they mommy? And I made a heart and put an x in it cause I don't love her."
9, 9 year olds shouldn't have to ask those types of questions. 9 year olds should not have to be disposable.
I told her as sweetly as I could that I loved her very very much and that her birthday mommy didn't know how to be a mommy and that she worked very hard to make sure that she got to come and live with a mom like me.
"And you make me hot chocolate"
"And you don't let things crawl on me"
"And I can eat here"
"Yes baby, of course, and I'm so happy that you are here. I love you being my baby of the heart," I managed to squeak out.
Again she asks to go check the mail and despite the fact that it's only 9 am, I let her because she is waiting. She is waiting to know the answers to questions that I don't think can be answered. I am praying that in this case her simplistic thinking will be our saving grace.
I've thought alot about it all day. I've cried about it. I've also decided that tomorrow when my little girl gets off the bus and checks the mail, that she will have a letter from her birthday mom.
I will write the words her mother was too sick to write to questions my baby girl never got to ask. I will tell her that I am sorry. I will tell her that I am proud of how hard she has worked to get better. I will tell her that I never learned how to be a mommy and that I am glad she has a forever family. I will answer the questions that 9 year old babies should never ever have to ask.
And this is how it went....
I wrote about thirty versions of a letter in which I had no idea what I wanted to say. I thought about my dad. What would I want him to say. Mostly just I'm sorry.
Ugh anyway so she got home at three thirty. and ran right to the mailbox as she has every day for far too many...
She stopped and looked through the mail, she stopped on one, studied it. She recognized her name but not most of the words. She brought it in and said "Mommy does that say Jaylin" And I said yes. She said, "And does that say ___________?" I said yes. "What else does it say mom," she asked?  As I read the letter to her, I watched her face soften. She said, "What do you think she is saying at me mommy."
I think she is saying that she is sorry sweetie and she is saying that she didn't know how to be a mommy and so she did the only thing that she knew to do. She let you go even though it made her so very sad.
And my baby girl curled up into my arms for a moment, soaking in the words, resting on me. After a few moments she hopped up and asked to call her daddy. She told him about the letter and what they both said. Content, she hung up and walked away.
Completely relaxed and calm she laughed her way outside. The next two hours I watched as she rode back and forth on her bike and laughed and was little. If only I could make her little everyday....

You Want Her Whole

You want her whole. Trust me. For when she finds her muchness; when she gathers all the pieces of herself, all the pieces you have broke...