When my boys were 5 and 6 years old, after the successive passing of two acquaintances and our family pet-

S2:   Why did they die?

Me: When our bodies grow too tired and weak, our bodies die and we go to Heaven.    

S1:  Does it hurt?

Me:  I don’t think so.  We arrive whole and healthy again in Heaven-a place where all things are good, nobody is sick, mean, afraid or hurting.  In Heaven, we are with those whom we love and who love us.   

S2:  Will King Simon get his eye back?  Me:  Yes, he will have both of his eyes.

S1: Do bad guys go to heaven?

Me:  They do.  Doing bad things is part of their brokenness and in Heaven, they are no longer broken.

S2:  Do we still have to take naps?

Me:  Only when we feel like it.

S1:  Will you will get there before us?

Me:  Typically mommies and daddies go first.

S1:  How will we find you?

Me:  It will be like when I pick you up from school- you are waiting behind the gate and we just find each other.  I will be there.  They were satisfied with that.  So. Am. I.(This makes me cry each time I consider it)

Though a spiritually striving individual, I am un-religious.  I do rely on a God of my Understanding, a non-diety,  to guide me. Previously guided only by fear of the reactions and perceptions of others.  My decades of faithlessness were dreadful, literally -all fear and shame. Reliance on a Higher Power rewards me– faith, self, esteem and God’s Grace.   Terms, which before program were elusive and left me feeling forsaken, left behind.

While recovery brought me Faith and God, motherhood called for a belief in Heaven.  To think that time with my precious boys is limited to our time on earth is unspeakably painful.  I have been saved, first by parenthood and then spirituality.  It was I, who was delivered on the day I became a mother and again when I found recovery/the day I filed for divorce.  Those are my true birthdays!  Without my two little bears looking to me to see how to live, I would have just soldiered on pathetically in my long joyless march to death, trying to twist and erase my self for the ease of others who are incapable of offering the promise of nurturing love.

My boys do not belong TO me, but have been entrusted to me.  The gravity of my responsibility is immense.

Motherhood requires the Promise of Love.  My Program of Recovery shows me how to fulfill and live the promise.

Keeping the promise is BadAss!  100%

 

I promise!  How will you keep the promise?  I hope you will share.