Tag: children

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“Holding Tight while Letting Go”

by DeniseLeave a Comment on “Holding Tight while Letting Go”

I picked up “Live What You Love” by Bob and Melinda Blanchard to read yesterday morning. It was a random selection, something I do occasionally when I’m in between purposeful readings. The process: I stand in front of my bookcases and scan titles until the book I am meant to read jumps out at me. This book is orange. I don’t remember buying it, which is often the case – one of many impulsive book buys in my life. Trusting the Why will be revealed, I buy the books that speak to me. I don’t always read them until years later.I love the moment I understand the Why. This morning it was clear.

Timothy left for Utah last night and my heart is crying a steady stream of sadness, a whole body feeling that weighs you down from the inside. The outside can smile and express how excited you are for him. You can imagine his adventure and beam with pride at the young man you’ve raised. You can know with certainty that you have done a good job and prepared him well. You can know without a doubt that he will be better than okay – he will grow in so many ways. You can feel all of that incredible, positive, exciting stuff and still your heart will cry. Inwardly, knowing how much you’ll miss his smile, his laugh, his hugs, his sarcastic wit, and insatiable thirst for life.

You’ll feel like you should have paid more attention along the way. You should have realized the day he first left he wasn’t coming back. When was that day? It feels like it was the first day of Children’s House. He was three. I didn’t want to take him. It feels like it started then, his pull to leave – my pull to hold on.

Maybe I did pay attention but I didn’t listen. Maybe I’ve known for twenty years that he would leave me. My gut trying to tell me all those years ago, “Get ready. This one is going places. Prepare yourself. This one will love you fiercely but he’s gonna need you to love him enough to let him go.”

That is the Why of this book. As I read “Live What You Love”, I’m reminded of exactly what this child of mine is doing at this moment. He is living the life he loves, stepping bravely out there into his dream and I am blessed to be the mom who witnesses it. It is my honor to be the mom who encouraged the boy to draw geometric designs for hours and days and to love Frank Lloyd Wright to the point of obsession. Something inside me planted within him a seed that has grown into a passion for architecture and a spirit of adventure.

How lucky am I to be the mom who for years watched the passion he felt each time his foot touched the soccer ball, his enthusiasm and energy filling the space, allowing me to feel the excitement vicariously through him, that moment when his body, full of adrenaline pushed itself to be all that it could be. Now, that same young man has found a new passion for the outdoors and he’s moving to Utah to hike and explore a place he has grown to love with the girl he has chosen to share his life with. How lucky am I to be the mom of this young man?

So I’ll let my heart cry as long and as often as it feels the need. After all, I will miss him. But I will feel gratitude for all that this next adventure is with this boy of mine. Together we are growing as I learn to hold tight and let go in one grace-filled movement.

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How lucky am I to have something that makes saying good-bye so hard.

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When I look at this photo

by DeniseLeave a Comment on When I look at this photo
When I look at this photo

When I look at this photo I see my grandmother’s wedding band, the pearls my dad gave to me on my eighteen birthday, my precious grandbaby, and a mother pausing for a moment to soak in the last moments before her son is married. This moment in time highlighted by memories of the past and promise of the future.

I’m reminded of words my Dad gave to us, given to him through his mother. Words with meaning that grows deeper as the years pass.

“The past, the future, are linked together by the now. What is today is because of what was yesterday, the day before, and long ago.” – drw

From the vantage point provided by experience, I’ve begun to see that what I once thought was a past littered with missteps and fumbles, was in reality, perfect in every way. There are no missteps and past fumbles only serve to propel us a little further down the path. Every thing happens for a reason and all of it leads to where we are meant to be today.

With the passing of each life event, Dad’s wisdom comes more clearly into focus. His words echo Universal laws and teachings I have come to embrace. I believe in soul contracts, all part of a Divine plan of agreements we make before entering into this life experience. A Divine plan that provides a map of sorts for the journey that will be our life. Each journey provides opportunity after opportunity for the soul to have exactly the experience necessary in order for it to learn lessons agreed to in the original contract. The choices we make when confronted with these opportunities determine the next turn our path will take. In the moment these turns often feel like problems, challenges, tragedies, and drama leading to what we perceive as missteps. Only through the passage of time are we able to see the wisdom gained, the growth experienced, and the blessings hidden in these turns along the way.

“Each thought, each word, each deed acted in the now becomes a fragment of eternity.” –drw

Life moments are precious, each one filled with meaning. What we choose to do with these moments is up to us. We can wish them away, ignore their significance, or treasure them for what they are but regardless of our behavior, all become fragments of eternity. Every thought, word, and deed carries significance whether chosen with intention or performed mindlessly and forgotten. Given the power of choice, choose intentionally. Wake up to this moment. Use this gift to craft your life. Pay attention to the lessons as they present themselves along the way and make choices that challenge you to expand and grow to the fullest expression of yourself.

“Life means there is no choice but to use this gift…the trust, the love, the power…indenting destiny.” -drw

When I look at this photo, I hear my Dad’s voice reminding me to pause, to appreciate the moment, its connection to the past and link to the future. Life doesn’t provide a pause button. It’s up to us to create moments of pause, time to breathe, to reflect, to soak it all in.

When I look at this photo my heart fills with gratitude for the woman who wore this wedding band, for the man who gave me these pearls, for my child about to be wed, and for the baby snuggled against my chest. I am blessed with the gift of appreciation that allows me to savor moments like these, because truly, these moments are what life is all about.

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Breathe in Gratitude.

by DeniseLeave a Comment on Breathe in Gratitude.

Cat

Hurricane Joaquin is making it’s way up the coastline and rain has been falling steadily on North Carolina for so many days that I’ve lost count. Mushrooms sprouted up over night in the front yard and Sadie is refusing to walk out on the soggy grass for potty time. With temperatures dipping into the 50’s, I’m content to curl up in my fuzzy socks and sip coffee today. I’m grateful it’s not sunny outside. I would feel pressure to get out and do something and I’m just not feeling it.

My Cat is missing.

Today I need comfort. I need to give and to receive big, warm, all-encompassing hugs. I need heart connection, soul protection, and a feeling of peace.

Another mass murder. Fleeing refugees. Hate-filled words. Ignorance. Judgment. Lack of compassion. Narrow-minded views with no attempt at understanding. Parents with Alzheimer’s. Drug addicted children. Corrupt politicians. Overcrowded prisons. Autistic children. Mentally ill with no health coverage. Government red tape. Greed. Depression. Parents dying. Friends suffering.

And my Cat is missing.

On every level, (universal, national, local, friend, family, personal) events unfold to show contrast and to remind me of all I have to be grateful for.

Breathe in gratitude. Breathe out compassion.

Grateful to have been born in this country where I wake up each morning with a roof over my head and knowledge that my children are safe, none of us forced to flee our homes, fear for our lives, wonder where our next meal will come from or if we will live to see the next day.

Breathe in gratitude. Breathe out compassion.

Grateful to have been raised in a community with an opportunity for personal growth, privileged not to struggle financially, not to face discrimination or persecution based on my religion, my culture, or my DNA.

Breathe in gratitude. Breathe out compassion.

Grateful for this open mind, willing to learn and desperate to understand. Not needing to agree in order to accept. Believing we are more alike than we are unalike and holding fast to the belief that the Divine unites us all.

Breathe in gratitude. Breathe out compassion.

Grateful for this sadness that sits with me today. Knowing it is this heart that allows me to feel so intensely. This same heart that now loves without condition or limit is open to pleasure and likewise to pain.

So today I’ll nurture this sadness that has come to visit me. I’ll curl myself up in a patchwork afghan lovingly made by a kindred spirit. I’ll sip my coffee and count my blessings. I’ll gather light and I’ll send it out into this suffering world through my open heart. This is all I know to do right now.

And I’ll keep the porch door propped open so Cat can come home.

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Letters from my children

by DeniseLeave a Comment on Letters from my children

Every once in a while life gives us a moment of affirmation. A moment of pause when we are presented with evidence that somewhere along the twisted rocky path we’ve been walking, we were able to stumble in just such a way as to do something very right. For me, that moment of affirmation came in the form of letters written by my children.

LettersSix years ago, my ex and I told our four children we were getting a divorce. The marriage ended long before I had the courage to speak the words. Fear kept me in place. Fear of losing my children, losing the relationships that meant more to me than life, fear that they wouldn’t understand why, and fear that I wouldn’t be able to explain fast enough to keep them close. I worked their entire lives to create a façade in order to protect them from reality and in a matter of seconds I ripped the curtain down, exposing a truth they couldn’t possibly comprehend quickly. I asked them to trust me while I crumbled the foundation their young lives had been standing on. Looking into four sets of eyes, filled with fear and disbelief, I could only beg them to search their hearts and to know how much I loved them.

“You know who I am. I would never do anything that I don’t believe is best for you. I know how much this hurts but I promise, everything is going to be okay.”

I’m not certain I believed my own words back then. It would have been easier to stay silent. I wasn’t sure everything was going to be okay. I only knew that if I didn’t take action to change the course of our lives, my children would grow up to repeat the pattern I had created. The pattern of a life not lived, of walking on eggshells, morphing one’s self, going through the motions, not knowing the power of self love, living in a fog with no pathway through. I only knew that no one else was going to change the way things were, it was up to me. I didn’t know exactly what I was going to do. I only knew what I couldn’t do any longer. Something had flipped inside me and I had no choice but to move forward, blindly walking toward a place of peace, searching for joy. My fear was the cost could be the love of my children. I chose the risk. I loved them too much not to.

I believe as parents, it is our responsibility to model an authentic life for our children. Not to model the perfect life as fantasized in the media, but to live our lives from a place of truth and love, warts and all. For me, the truth was that I had never learned to love myself. Childhood experiences served to create a feeling of “not good enough” that molded me into an adult who felt a need to prove herself as “better than” in order to be okay. Insecurity built a fortress around my heart to protect me from the pain of judgment. Attempts to venture beyond the fortress walls proved to be painful and each time I retreated further from my truth. Years and years of hiding exhausted me to the point of hopelessness and it was at that point when the risk of staying the same was greater than the risk of making a change.

Blindly, I walked through the fortress gate into an unknown space. For a while, I suspect my children and others didn’t recognize me. I didn’t recognize myself. I lived moment to moment not able to think consciously of the choices I was making but only to feel each choice step-by-step slowing making my way to the light. Conscious thought had not served me well through the years. My ego voice was strong and if allowed to speak, would drown out my intuition. For a while, survival required me to silence my ego and move purely from my shattered open heart. I’m not certain I was the best mother during that time. If I am honest with myself, I don’t remember a lot of what was happening then in regards to actual events. I remember feelings. I remember missing my children. I remember sobbing myself to sleep after screaming fits of frustration and anger left me exhausted and unable to move from floor to bed. I remember loneliness. I remember fear. I remember knowing I was following the right path for the first time in my life despite the pain. What I didn’t know for certain was if my children would ever know this too.

I came to believe over the years that my children had forgiven me for the upheaval of their lives. Children adapt and mine began to relax and settle into the new “normal” that was our life. We stumbled a few times but slowly we all began to learn a new way of being. Laughter returned and with it a new level of honesty and communication. Recently I received as a wedding gift from my darling husband, a journal filled with letters written by those I hold dearest in my life, letters written with raw honesty, confirming my decision to follow my heart all those years ago.

Words written by my children of gratitude for “courageously fighting for what I believed was best for my heart and for the hearts of my children.” Their letters expressed an understanding that selfishness is not a negative trait. Taking care of one’s Self must come first before we can truly care for others. Unbeknownst to me, they have seen and now understand that until I was brave enough to risk it all, I wasn’t able to love completely. They thanked me for “modeling” exactly what I wanted them to learn. They used words like authenticity, passion, alignment, synchronicity, joy, Divine guidance, and abundance. They thanked me for the example of a loving relationship filled with joy. They wrote of lessons I had taught them and words of wisdom I had shared, most of which I didn’t think they were hearing at the time.

Reading their letters over and over I’m overwhelmed with gratitude for these amazing souls who chose me to be their earthly mother. I’m overwhelmed with gratitude for the knowledge that life is not meant to be a struggle. I’m forever thankful to have been given a second chance to live in this truth and experience the joy life can hold for all of us. Most of all, I’m thankful for the path I have walked, thankful to have been broken open, for it is from this wide open heart that I now live and love.

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I love Holidays. I hate what we do to them.

by DeniseLeave a Comment on I love Holidays. I hate what we do to them.
I love Holidays. I hate what we do to them.

imgresI have a love-hate relationship with holidays. In their purest form, celebrated in a vacuum removed from judgement and commercialism, I love holidays. There is a part of me that wishes to celebrate each and every one, to throw myself into the rituals and customs that make holidays rich.

As I child, I loved dyeing eggs, watching fireworks, eating turkey, hanging stockings, and staying awake to greet the new year. Each holiday carried with it traditions that I embraced and internalized. Easter was hunting eggs in the front yard that my grandmother played in as a girl. Birthdays were white cakes with pink decorations, my name spelled on top and flowers around the bottom. Fourth of July meant homemade ice cream and Dad at the grill flipping burgers. Thanksgiving was a week of baking pies and cakes, roasting turkeys, casseroles, and cornbread dressing, all culminating in a large family gathering with enough food to feed an army. And Christmas was Mom’s breakfast of fresh ham, eggs, grits, and biscuits followed by a day of visiting family, singing carols, and mountains of wrapping paper.

Over the years I’ve been exposed to holidays outside my Christian upbringing and embraced them with enthusiasm, all the while wishing to remove the labels that serve to separate. I love the peacefulness of Shabbat dinner with warm Challah bread and candles, the introspection of Rosh Hashanah, the lighting of menorah candles, the discipline of Passover, and though I’ve never built a Sukkot, I think I would like sleeping under the stars on an autumn night. I love the joyful message of Diwali with a wish for peace and harmony and the seven principles that Kwanzaa is centered around. I love the idea of the Lohri bonfire festival when the weather is cold and the kite festival, Uttarayn, to celebrate the beginning of Spring.

With labels removed, I find the essence of each holiday to be the same, love. Holidays are times to gather family and friends, to reflect and appreciate, to celebrate life and to share laughter. Perhaps this is why I have always felt strongest about Thanksgiving and have been drawn to this holiday that no one religion has claimed and commercial retailers aren’t interested in. For this reason, Thanksgiving remains pure. We all gather together to celebrate the blessings of this life, expressing our gratitude in as many different ways are there are people among us.

When my children were small I began making a big deal of Thanksgiving. Traditions were important. I wanted them to have solid memories that they would pass down for generations. The same menu each year, many of the items from my childhood: cornbread dressing, sweet potato casserole, brown-n-serve rolls, collards, pears with cream cheese, deviled eggs, sweet tea, and pecan pies. We added items from their father’s family: corn casserole, stuffing, and mashed potatoes. Turkey roasting was our own creation complete with a brining tradition and a “gooble-gooble BAM!” seasoning ritual.

Some of my happiest memories are bare legs on the countertop, covered in flour, helping me cook. With four children, for many years, at least one would help with Thanksgiving preparation. As they grew older, sometimes the only help would come in the form of a licked beater or occasionally being available to reach something from a high shelf but I knew in my heart the tradition still mattered and they noticed. They noticed the apron I wore and the hours I spent in the kitchen for days leading up to Thursday’s dinner. They noticed the holiday music and that their favorite foods were prepared. They counted on the tradition and for many years, relied on it as proof that their world was okay.

It was for this reason that I promised them nothing would change about Thanksgiving when their Dad and I divorced. Looking into the scared eyes of my four children,with the best of intentions, I made a promise that I should not have made. For all the same reasons we are no longer married, it was not a realistic idea. Of course things would change because Thanksgiving is not just a day. It’s not just the food and the football. Thanksgiving is a feeling. It’s about gratitude and love. Thanksgiving is coming together with those you hold dear, reflecting on the past and looking forward to the future. Thanksgiving is a time of celebration and tradition. For me, it’s a time of blessing my family with nourishing food, joyful music, laughter, and love.

This year for the first time in 26 years, I won’t be with my children on Thanksgiving Day.  This is a choice I have made after several years of fulfilling an unrealistic promise. I don’t know what it will feel like to wake up that thursday morning and not spend the day in the kitchen. Honestly, I’m a little scared and for that reason, I’m going away for a change of scenery. I worry about how they will feel that day and I hope for understanding. This is a huge step for me. By giving up the day, I am taking back my Thanksgiving.  I’m going to embrace the spirit of the holiday in its pure form without pressure to make it about one particular day. I will bake all day saturday, filling our home with holiday music and the aroma of roasting turkey. On Sunday our home will be filled with family, our bellies filled with food, and our hearts filled with love.

And maybe, if I’m lucky, I can get someone to help put up the tree before they leave.

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Spiritual Heart <3

by DeniseLeave a Comment on Spiritual Heart <3

consuming-fireThis morning I am grateful for the ability of my spiritual heart to expand without limit.  I have often thought, ‘I couldn’t possibly love (insert name) more than I do at this moment.  If I did, my heart would surely explode.’

I remember nursing my firstborn child soon after he was born, overwhelmed by the wave of emotion this tiny creature stirred within me.  Tears running down my face, a lump in my throat, and that fullness in my chest that says my soul is fulfilled.  At that moment for the first time I thought, ‘I couldn’t possibly love this child more than I do at this moment.’  Time has proven me wrong.  For over and over I find myself loving this child more than I did in that moment.

And it is not only this child who has invoked this expansion of my spiritual heart.  Since that first moment, my heart has grown stronger, more elastic, ever larger, to the point that almost daily I am overcome by the feeling that ‘I couldn’t possibly love (insert name) more than I do at this moment.’

With the birth of each child, I questioned whether my heart could expand yet again.  Each child creating another opportunity for growth and fulfillment.  Each stage of their lives providing me the gift of uncertainty and change.  An opportunity to move forward into an unknown space of ‘I couldn’t possibly love more than I do at this moment.’  Only to find that on the other side of uncertainty my spiritual heart capacity had expanded, another layer of compassion and truth added to my life.

Like any physical muscle, this spiritual muscle has the ability to strengthen and to stretch with proper care and usage.

It occurs to me that just as physical exercise involves discomfort in the process of strengthening, so does spiritual exercise.  At the moment that I begin to feel anxious, uncertain, scared, sad, or dissatisfied, this is an opportunity for the spiritual muscle to strengthen and expand.  In yoga, we are taught to breathe into the muscle, to relax, to release, to trust our bodies to know what is right for us in the moment.

I’m learning to apply my yoga practice to all areas of my Self, physical and spiritual.  Today I realize that each time I feel that ‘I couldn’t possibly love more than I do at this moment’, my heart is expanding and I will for certain love even more.