If feelings were rivers,
mine would be oceans.
Wild and furious;
unpredictable and deep.
The ocean understands.
It is calm and serene,
amazing in depth.
It is loud and crashing,
overwhelming in its
penchant for change.
Does the ocean even
know itself?
Does it know what
lies beneath?
Is it blue or green?
Grey or white?
Or is it all of those
all the time?
It returns again
and again.
Bringing with it
the new as the
old drifts away.
Moons pull and
the ocean responds.
Ever predictable in
its unpredictability.
You can drown if
you wonder too far.
Maybe sitting on the
shore and observing is
what the sages choose.
But I like the taste of
salt in my mouth;
the feel of the sand
under my feet.
The roar of the waves,
the scent of life.
It compels and calls.
To say no is an insult.
The rivers laugh at
the ocean's fury.
Yet they keep flowing
into her vastness
day after day.
You'll never understand
unless you answer the
call. Hear the roar.
Feel the waves.
Crashing. Calm.
Turbulant. Peaceful.
Sunday, May 14, 2017
Friday, May 12, 2017
Sunshining through newborn leaves,
birds chirping in harmony to
music I can't hear.
Warmth like a cocoon
spreading through my soul,
melting the ice of a long winter.
Free to flow where
the rivers run wild.
Free to be...in a space
without borders and rows.
Is this what happy feels like
and dare I revel in it
when sadness is a close
companion to so many
near and far?
I wake with gratitude
for the possibilities.
I experience and
become a child all over again.
Rebellion or rebirth?
Could it be both and
would the clouds part
in a smile if it were so?
Simple moments in time
string together into a
song of beaded dewdrops
catching the morning sun.
Goodness and love
always surround me,
the only thing that
changes is my awareness.
Color and light
blend into rainbows
of peace and joy.
All is well.
birds chirping in harmony to
music I can't hear.
Warmth like a cocoon
spreading through my soul,
melting the ice of a long winter.
Free to flow where
the rivers run wild.
Free to be...in a space
without borders and rows.
Is this what happy feels like
and dare I revel in it
when sadness is a close
companion to so many
near and far?
I wake with gratitude
for the possibilities.
I experience and
become a child all over again.
Rebellion or rebirth?
Could it be both and
would the clouds part
in a smile if it were so?
Simple moments in time
string together into a
song of beaded dewdrops
catching the morning sun.
Goodness and love
always surround me,
the only thing that
changes is my awareness.
Color and light
blend into rainbows
of peace and joy.
All is well.
Thursday, December 22, 2016
How Can You Love Me?
We had just crawled into bed, both exhausted from a long day. It wasn't even 9:30 PM, but having everyone in the house go to bed early seemed like the best idea on this particular evening.
As we were about to doze off, a knock came at the bedroom door and a childish voice said "Mom. Dad. Can I come in?"
He walked into our room, blanket in hand, crying. It had been a rough evening for him. As seems to happen on a too-regular basis, he had accidentally hit his sister on the side of the head and set her off on a (somewhat dramatic) crying jag.
When told to move to the other end of the couch, he curled into a ball, hid behind the cushions, and started to sob. It clearly wasn't just about this incident. It was about this one and what seemed to him to be the million other times that he has found himself in this same situation in his short life.
Always trying to be kind and good. Always seeming to fail and hurt someone anyway. When you pair a hugely kind and empathetic heart with a tendency to be angry and impulsive, the forces often collide. When you feel everything with intensity, it can seem like what you are feeling at the moment is the only feeling that ever existed in your world and you want to just make it go away. I know. He's a lot like me.
He came to my side of the bed first. He said "I just keep thinking the same thing. And it's really bad."
"What is it, son?" And then again "Tell me what it is."
"I just keep thinking...all I can think...is that I want to kill myself."
Oh, my son! You're 11 years old. Your life is just starting. Don't even go there! Don't think that! These are the things I wanted to say. It scares a Mom to hear her child voice such a horrible thought. But he is feeling what he is feeling and to shut him down at a vulnerable time is not what my intuition tells me to do.
How often do we do that? We try to change someone else's words or re-arrange their feelings so that we don't have to be uncomfortable. We want to make it better so their pain doesn't stir up our own. We shut them down in order to keep it less messy...so we think. But feelings and thoughts of that intensity don't go away just like that. They only go underground into the space of "it isn't safe to say how I feel because other's can't handle it." That place is dark and lonely and cold. I know. He's a lot like me.
My husband called him over to the other side of the bed. Held him close there in the dark. The words started pouring out. "Mom. Dad. I have one thing to say and two questions."
I don't even remember the one thing he had to say, but I have a feeling the question will stay with me for a long time. Because to me, it is the question we all ask our whole lives, in one way or another. It's a question of value and acceptance. It's a question of guilt and shame and those demons that chase us down.
With tears running down his cheeks and a sob in his voice he said "How can you still love me when I do so many bad things?" A bit of silence. I imagine his heart pounded loudly in his chest. Waiting to hear the response from out of the darkness.
My husband spoke first. Softly, but strong. "You can NEVER make me not love you. I just do. No matter what you do or what you've done, I'll always love you. Even if you're a teenager and you tell me that you hate me, I'll still love you. Because you are my son, and that's what fathers do."
It is that simple.
But is it? In this twisted world we live in, we ask ourselves this question of our Creator and of others. Sometimes over and over.
"How can you love me when I do so many bad things?"
How can you love me when I've yelled at you? How can you love me when I've turned my back on you? How can you love me when I've cheated? Or lied? How can you love me when I've abused or been abused? How can you love me when I've made choices that have hurt others? When I've been angry? When I've disappointed? How can you love me when...fill in the blanks of your own story.
How can you love me when I don't know how to love myself?
I lay there with tears running down my face. Because the question is so familar. I know. He's a lot like me.
With a catch in my voice, I said "You know how I love you? Because I know what that love feels like. That's how Jesus loves me and that's how I can love you, no matter what you say or do."
When you experience forgiveness and love of the kind that I've felt, even in my darkest and ugliest moments, you can't deny that to another human being. Especially in the face of that raw vulnerability and honesty.
"Can you please pray for me?" he said. And we did. Because sometimes that all we can do for each other. Offer words of love. Pray. Wrap arms around a hurting comrade.
Life is tough. The questions are big. The feelings are real. The struggle is intense.
But...
Love is bigger. The miracles are real. Peace can be found. Forgiveness is offered and grace is enough.
Even when you've failed.
Perhaps, ESPECIALLY when you've failed.
As we were about to doze off, a knock came at the bedroom door and a childish voice said "Mom. Dad. Can I come in?"
He walked into our room, blanket in hand, crying. It had been a rough evening for him. As seems to happen on a too-regular basis, he had accidentally hit his sister on the side of the head and set her off on a (somewhat dramatic) crying jag.
When told to move to the other end of the couch, he curled into a ball, hid behind the cushions, and started to sob. It clearly wasn't just about this incident. It was about this one and what seemed to him to be the million other times that he has found himself in this same situation in his short life.
Always trying to be kind and good. Always seeming to fail and hurt someone anyway. When you pair a hugely kind and empathetic heart with a tendency to be angry and impulsive, the forces often collide. When you feel everything with intensity, it can seem like what you are feeling at the moment is the only feeling that ever existed in your world and you want to just make it go away. I know. He's a lot like me.
He came to my side of the bed first. He said "I just keep thinking the same thing. And it's really bad."
"What is it, son?" And then again "Tell me what it is."
"I just keep thinking...all I can think...is that I want to kill myself."
Oh, my son! You're 11 years old. Your life is just starting. Don't even go there! Don't think that! These are the things I wanted to say. It scares a Mom to hear her child voice such a horrible thought. But he is feeling what he is feeling and to shut him down at a vulnerable time is not what my intuition tells me to do.
How often do we do that? We try to change someone else's words or re-arrange their feelings so that we don't have to be uncomfortable. We want to make it better so their pain doesn't stir up our own. We shut them down in order to keep it less messy...so we think. But feelings and thoughts of that intensity don't go away just like that. They only go underground into the space of "it isn't safe to say how I feel because other's can't handle it." That place is dark and lonely and cold. I know. He's a lot like me.
My husband called him over to the other side of the bed. Held him close there in the dark. The words started pouring out. "Mom. Dad. I have one thing to say and two questions."
I don't even remember the one thing he had to say, but I have a feeling the question will stay with me for a long time. Because to me, it is the question we all ask our whole lives, in one way or another. It's a question of value and acceptance. It's a question of guilt and shame and those demons that chase us down.
With tears running down his cheeks and a sob in his voice he said "How can you still love me when I do so many bad things?" A bit of silence. I imagine his heart pounded loudly in his chest. Waiting to hear the response from out of the darkness.
My husband spoke first. Softly, but strong. "You can NEVER make me not love you. I just do. No matter what you do or what you've done, I'll always love you. Even if you're a teenager and you tell me that you hate me, I'll still love you. Because you are my son, and that's what fathers do."
It is that simple.
But is it? In this twisted world we live in, we ask ourselves this question of our Creator and of others. Sometimes over and over.
"How can you love me when I do so many bad things?"
How can you love me when I've yelled at you? How can you love me when I've turned my back on you? How can you love me when I've cheated? Or lied? How can you love me when I've abused or been abused? How can you love me when I've made choices that have hurt others? When I've been angry? When I've disappointed? How can you love me when...fill in the blanks of your own story.
How can you love me when I don't know how to love myself?
I lay there with tears running down my face. Because the question is so familar. I know. He's a lot like me.
With a catch in my voice, I said "You know how I love you? Because I know what that love feels like. That's how Jesus loves me and that's how I can love you, no matter what you say or do."
When you experience forgiveness and love of the kind that I've felt, even in my darkest and ugliest moments, you can't deny that to another human being. Especially in the face of that raw vulnerability and honesty.
"Can you please pray for me?" he said. And we did. Because sometimes that all we can do for each other. Offer words of love. Pray. Wrap arms around a hurting comrade.
Life is tough. The questions are big. The feelings are real. The struggle is intense.
But...
Love is bigger. The miracles are real. Peace can be found. Forgiveness is offered and grace is enough.
Even when you've failed.
Perhaps, ESPECIALLY when you've failed.
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