- 18 Dec
- Published on 18 December 2012
- Category: Featured Articles
- Written by admin
This thoughtful reflection was issued by Kiva Leatherman of Wise Women Network the day after the Sandy Hook tragedy. These are words of a soul sitter. May they begin to repair our broken hearts.
From one mother to another...
Yesterday I had no words. But today I feel them beginning to pour out of me. We are a community of parents, and our hearts are broken. I don't know a mother who didn't shed tears yesterday.
Those children are our children and their mothers are our sisters. It is devastating.
I can't help but notice that there is palpable love in the air today. At ballet this morning I noticed more hugs and kisses. Any energy of frustration, the "get your ballet shoes on, you're going to be late!" was noticeably absent. A friend shared that last night her little guy emptied half of his bath onto the bathroom floor. Her normal reaction might have been less than calm, but last night...
Last night she got some towels, cleaned up the mess and loved that baby up.
This morning I asked my Myles for an extra BIG hug. And my boy let me hold him, and he held me back, for a wonderfully connected minute or two. And when we let go, the smile on his face beamed a thousand stars. Why, I thought, don't I ask for one of those more often?
This morning, driving through our equally idyllic New England town, I saw women holding their childrens' hands, smiling down at them with love pouring form their eyes. Mr. and Mrs. Claus were hanging out on the corner, and cars slowed down, waving and honking.
The state of grace is collective. Innocence has returned at the same moment that it was stolen.
And I began to think... we've got to find a way to bottle this. Let this tragedy be the moment that reminds us just how precious our little angels are, not just today, or in a week - but forever more.
I worry that in a month or so, after the holidays are done, and we are back to the rush, rush, hurry, hurry of our lives we might forget this feeling. We may begin again to snap at our children for taking too long to put on their shoes, or not using their fork to eat their green beans, or pouring the water out of the bathtub.
Here's my plan. To write about this moment. Here. And share it with all of you. So that I can remember:
~that every moment with my son and daughter is a gift.
~that it is my deepest desire to raise them to be harbingers of peace and love in the world.
~That the inconveniences of running late, or spilled milk pale in comparison to the blessing of the love these two children have brought into my life.
~that in many ways, my children are so much wiser than I am. Their ability to play and feel and imagine and forgive and love and sing and dance and cry and tell their truth far surpasses my own.
And you, my fellow mother, can do the same. Bottle up what you're feeling right now. Anchor it in a practice that supports you in having your heart be as full as it is right now, so that you can take a sip of it when you forget.