Because my mother is physically and mentally unwell, 84, and in the hospital, I am feeling twisted up inside, as if I should DO something. There is nothing for me to do at this time. My efforts to heal and build trust or connection are either swatted away like a pesky gnat or they go unacknowledged. I guess swats and dismissals are an improvement from being blasted with heavy artillery of character assasination and accusations of how I deserve abuse or am unworthy of kindness. This is progress.
Any action I might race into, would be a reaction, intended to alleviate (the lies of) fear, shame, guilt. Those were the tools of control in my childhood and still hard at work in my family of origin. Today, I have faith in a power greater than those and them. With nothing to prove or to fear, I will wait, pray, and listen with a calm heart, for when it is wise to take action or show up. Fools rush in. Right? I have faith and patience and a God that is much bigger than cancer, dysfunction, and mortality.
I love my mother in all the ways she has taught me to, from over-here…and I have the relationship with my sister that my mother encourages us to have. I am powerless over that. Mournful and in full acceptance. It takes two to have a healthy relationship and only one to have another kind. We all get to be who and how we are. Deep breaths and contrary action will guide me through this day; one next right thing at a time. I will no longer be guided by the old gods of FEAR, SHAME, & GUILT. Faith is my greatest miracle and achievement. It is my daily practice, not just a
feeling. How will you practice faith today?
Hi, WBA,
This post somehow brought a plain, pretty uninteresting image to mind. I mean, I didn’t think of it, it just came and sat there for less than a second, only noticed because it didn’t seem attached to whatever I’d been thinking about – about Cynthia Bourgeault’s discussion of the Trinity. This image was of two things (not specific, just THINGS that related to each other somehow) which were actually in opposition to each other and without any hope for coming together.
Then a substance like glue began to ooze (did I say this was not a particularly pretty image?) from one of the things. It didn’t project the ooze in any way, it just oozed towards the other thing. And without moving, either one of them, pretty soon they were joined together.
They were happy, they were slow-dancing.
This took half a second of “real” time, but took a thousand years of symbolic time. Go figger!
The oozing thing didn’t “decide” to reach out, it just did because that was of its essence – to reach out, to put love into the space on the side where the other thing was until it reached it.
And that’s all there is to it!