I believe people are elements of the natural world like wind and water and the seedling breaking through the clay toward the sun. We all harness a power, positive or negative. We are all channeling decisions and goals toward a purpose, carving and manipulating the product of our life. And, we grow and bear a fruitage with undeniable assistance from a foundation of opportunity or faith. And, like a storm brewing and unleashing it's harnessed strength, or like a delicate bud opening it's color to the light of day, we encounter one another.
In some people, quite unexpectedly, we find a spark of contention or attraction. It's the attraction that fascinates me because it doesn't begin in words or even interaction...it's just there, like it had always been there, just panting to be discovered. A benign identity that holds an impact-a friendship, perhaps, or epiphany-that you could have never predicted when you made your bed that morning.
A woman who works at my vet called me to arrange for an appointment and, during the conversation, revealed that her mother was in the hospital. As she spoke of her mother's affliction, she unreservedly poured a sparkling glass of testimony, overflowing and bright...a sweet, uncensored record of admiration and love. I came to understand undeniably that never was there a stronger fighter than her mother, and that her mother was "her best friend." Even though I was a stranger to her, the deeply personal feelings she had for her mother struck me as so pure and genuine that it could flow anywhere, at anytime, to anyone. There was no barrier constricting that pipeline from her heart to her mouth. It was so effortless. Her feelings weren't flanked with disclaimers or sapped by emotional baggage. I have no doubt that her feelings flourished from the tap root of her mother's love for her.
Eleven and a half hours later, I'm driving to school and I hear a small piece on NPR. A simple story of mother and daughter. The simplicity was, in fact, the very power of the story. A handicapped single mother and her only daughter. The handicap was not what you would expect. It did not involve a wheelchair, or extensive treatments, or prolonged medical intervention. The story involved Bonnie Brown, who suffers an intellectual handicap, and her daughter, Myra.
As the piece relates:
"Myra says she never realized her mom was "different," until she told her.
"I said to you, 'Myra, I know I am not like your friends' mothers, but I'm doing the best I can.' And you said, 'It's OK, Mommy,' " Brown recounts. "And that made me feel so good.""
http://www.npr.org/2013/02/08/171382156/a-life-defined-not-by-disability-but-love?sc=emaf
The very nature of a love so simple and unfettered with the complicated notions and ambitions with which most mothers burden themselves, was like punch in the gut. It hit me squarely how complicated we can make mothering. We saddle ourselves with so much chatter in our heads, shackled to an intellect that so often has absolutely nothing to do with love. We fear too much, and thus turn "love" into a handicap. We become too ambitious, and "love" becomes a competition. We guilt ourselves into believing that love can be bought or indulged. We think love is giving our children something we didn't have, when, in fact, love is simply giving them ourselves.
If we look our children in the eye when they speak....That is love.
If we teach them to respect our personal boundaries...That is love.
If we equip them with the skills to take care of themselves...That is love.
If we value the quiet moments instead of the things or the rush...That is love.
Love is very simple; at least, the purest love is.
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