On The Healing Journey

Monday, May 12, 2014

Happy...On Mother's Day

    

        While Mother's Day is past for another year, I continue to reflect on the sights and celebrations I have observed over this past weekend - about as many and varied as the lush Rhododendron blooms I captured on this morning's walk, all unique and different in small ways, but nonetheless beautiful to take in and enjoy and remember.

It all started at the garden center on Saturday. Middle-aged men shopping with elderly women, carrying out hanging baskets laden with blooms. Dads with all the kids loading up their wagons with every color of blooms imaginable. Sun or shade it did not matter - it's Mother's Day and we're planting flowers! I wondered about watering and fertilizing and pruning and I worried about the sun and shade plants together, knowing some might not make it.

Then I attended  a book-signing and loved watching the family dynamics of a mother watch her son as he spoke about his book, read excerpts, and answer questions about his acclaimed work. She would glance from time-to-time at the grandson or the daughter-in-law, smile occasionally or look pensive. I love her and wanted to read her mind, wondering what she thought - her son who had spent the last eight years in study and research, and now the tangible fruit of his efforts. Pride, support, compassion, humor, wonder -  all mingled up.

Sunday morning the young mother sitting in front of us received a rose for being the newest mother in our sanctuary. She held this little bundle and watched in wonder at this new life, all wrapped in love and possibilities. I, too, wondered what she was thinking - who will she become, where will life take her, will I be a good mother, and maybe a little fear and wonder mixed in.

And somewhere in all my observations, I watched myself participate in the day, enjoying brunch and attending a concert with my own adult children. They chose fun and different ways to honor me and I just showed up. How easy it has all somehow become. Grateful for  those moments we have together. The homeless man was quick to remind me. We were coming out of the concert and there he stood with a wide, toothless smile just for me. "Happy Mother's Day," he offered. Were those tears in his eyes? He continued as I approached, "If I only had a few dollars to buy some flowers for my mother's grave..." I was already reaching for my wallet. While I doubt he left his street corner and rushed to his mother's grave, it did not matter. It was Mother's Day and he had thought of it.. Some mother had once loved and cared for him and besides, he had me at "Happy."

Monday, May 5, 2014

Over in Glory Land


 
 Today, the Siberian Irises opened in the garden. I want to invite the world to come for a stroll, admire their beauty, study the details of the blooms, touch them, wonder at the complexity of design and color.  Walk past them and admire their random groupings near the back of the perennial wall. Sit and enjoy their company. Admire and appreciate one more time. And then smile and say “good-bye.”

Like anything of beauty that is short-lived, we cherish those fleeting moments where we immersed ourselves into the sheer abandonment of ourselves, transporting our souls to somewhere that is just out of our reach, longing to capture that moment, that short life of inspiration.

It could be a sunrise or a sunset, each so very different—never two alike. It could be the movement of a falling star—the spit-second awe and reward for having been looking at just the right time. It could be the Irises that I fully expect to surprise me every spring with their stunning arrival—understanding their visit to my garden will be a short one.

             But I will never understand the shortness of a child’s life.

                      This little human with all her God-given potential,

                                      just waiting to burst forth and bloom.

                            This little potential swimmer whose innocence

                        was violated by the overwhelming force of nature.  

                                  The life-giving, refreshing water

                                             that swept away this precious life.

                   Although I know not this child

                            that has been on my heart these last few days…

             Although I know not these parents

          who are reeling in the shock and horror of this life

                              event that has changed their axis of the earth…

            Although I know so little about so much

                         and wonder about this fragile life we all live…

                                                                                   I do know this…
Today, I will pause as the sun sets and sends long fingers of rays down the garden wall. I will pull the wicker chairs off the porch and just sit and soak in the beauty of the shortness of life in my garden. I will savor this moment in time that I have been given. I will use this time to watch for sunsets, and new blooms, and falling stars— all the fleeting moments that transport me to that place of hope.
That place, like the name of the iris in my garden, is just “Over in Glory Land.”