I Sent You Nothing But Angels

Such a hard thing to remember – that God sent us nothing but angels to help us experience Who We Are in this lifetime.

I was reading Walsch’s children’s book The Little Soul and the Sun and in this book God tells the little soul who wants to have a body so it can experience itself as the One Who Forgives to remember that God sent him nothing but angels to help him.  The point of it is that even the people who come and do things that are hard or that we call bad are doing it not because they are bad but because they have agreed to lower their vibration to allow them to do this thing so that we can experience ourselves the way in which we came into this lifetime to experience ourselves.

The language gets a little convoluted in explaining this but the statement – I have sent you nothing but angels – keeps coming into my mind.  Perhaps because there are people in my life with whom I am struggling.  Marriage is hard.  Friends who are no longer friends can be hard.  The things that people do that can be hurtful are hard.  The lying.  The cheating.  The stealing.  The self absorption.  The unkindness.  We encounter these things throughout our days and lifetimes to varying degrees.  The question for me is to how to let this stuff go and not sit in disappointment, anger, resentment – whatever the feeling is.  For me, the feeling I struggle with the most is disappointment.

But I read this book and the statement I have sent you nothing but angles keeps coming to mind and it is helping me to release some things I have been holding onto from my childhood, broken relationships etc.  To know that perhaps we agreed that this person would do something that would allow me to experience myself as a person who forgives. Or a person who is kind.  And then likewise, that I have agreed to do things that my mind would judge to be bad in order to help someone else on their journey.

I’m not sure what the Truth is.  I do know that it feels better to believe that God has sent me nothing but angels.  I am learning to forgive other souls. I am learning to forgive myself.

No Mud No Lotus

I hated this expression when I first heard it in a yoga class.  I’m not sure why but I think what came up for me around this was “where is the the lotus?”  I was so lost in the mud I could not see the lotus; so lost in the struggle I could not see the joy.  And, even when I got a glimpse of the lotus, my cynical mind would tell me that flowers die and look at all the mud on it, not seeing the beautiful flower at all really.

Today, sometimes, I can see the flower as a beautiful flower.  That has been a hard fought battle.

I have been neck deep in the struggle all of my life.  In the earlier years it was a struggle just to survive.  Survive things at home and then just survive on my own at a pretty young age without support.  Making choices that don’t make sense to me even now.  When I look back at my life I often wonder how I did not become a serial killer, end up homeless addicted to something, or just die from one of the many horrible things I did to my body.  Those moments of Grace were huge for me.  Those times when I was able to go left instead of right and make a choice that would radically change my life.

And now that I am older with a family of my own, it is a struggle to find meaning, to let go.  To remember that many of the horrible things that happened are in fact over and that I can relax now.  To know that I don’t have to live in a constant fight or flight response.  Fear had become such a part of my life that I did not recognize it anymore and would actually tell people I was not a worrier even though I was terrified nearly all the time.  It has been so hard to learn, even a little bit, to relax into what is and tell my mind to let go.

From all objective standards my life is good.  I have two amazing children, I am working on the marriage thing but it is not horrible even when it is hard, I am financially secure and don’t need to work, and I spend much of my time doing what I want whether that is yoga, visiting with friends, therapy and lots of it.  But even with all of this goodness, I struggle to find meaning.  My mind will tell me that my kids don’t really need me and that I have nothing to offer the world – that there is no reason for me to be here.  I know on another level that my children do need me and they would be devastated without me.  The struggle is with my mind and the feelings of worthlessness that I have cultivated over the years.  This is not a surprise given where I have come from.

My life has undergone tremendous shifts at different times.  Externally.  Huge shifts that changed the course of my external life.  But while things changed on the outside very little changed on the inside.  I was looking for an outside solution to an inside problem.  The last three years have been working on the inside problem.  The problem of me, my mind and how much I believe my mind the minute it comes up with a thought.

Witness consciousness is a terribly hard thing to achieve.  I get moments of it now, sometimes long moments when I can observe my mind and my feelings without being disturbed by them.  It is there that I find a little peace.  And it is in working to get there that now I get glimpses of the lotus.  I get moments of joy.  Like teaching yoga and talking with a person new to yoga who says she was so terrified but now is feeling relaxed and is so enjoying coming to class.  To watch that transformation on someone else knowing what it was the first time I relaxed and let go of my mind in a yoga class (which might have been the first time I relaxed in such a way in my life).

My children are beautiful.  I have amazing friends.  A therapist who has gone to battle with and for me relentlessly to bring me to that place of freedom.  I live in a place with many beautiful things.  The real lotus for me now though is none of these things.  The lotus for me is in being able to rest my mind and personality so that I can have peace and see and enjoy each of those things in the moment.

Tell Me What God Is

I worked with the question “What Is God?” during this past enlightenment intensive and have remained with the question.  I keep hearing the direction in my head for dyads – “tell me what God is.”  Over and over again until I fear I am going to lose my mind.

Fear of going insane and fear of death are two of the blocks to enlightenment from what I understand from the master.  And I have lost my mind in the past.  It is hard to be in the psych ward as much as I have been earlier in my life and not have a fear of going insane, of getting locked up again.  And much of it stems from needing this connection with God so much and feeling like I don’t have it, or have it nearly as much as I want.

Wanting, longing for something, is so hard.  The pain sits in my heart and belly like a huge gaping open wound.  But even though it is painful there is a sweetness to it.  The sweetness is new to me, the pain is old.  The sweetness comes from having a taste of what it is to feel God in me, in the world, in others.  The relief of not having that feeling of isolation and separateness for even microseconds is tremendous.

I decided last night that I need to work on my relationship with God in a different way.  The longing and crying out to God is essential but it is rather vague in some way.  And I need that relationship to be personal.  So I have started my own conversations with God. And giving God all of me – all my thoughts, feelings, and life stuff, all of my struggles.  One of the teachings I have heard is that we have to give all of it to God, even the hate, the anger, the fear, the anguish.  It is hard for me because that is not what I was taught when I was young.  But it is what I am trying to follow now.  It feels much more authentic than pretending not to be angry about life, about how hard the journey is, about how worried I can get, about how alone I feel in this world.  Although truthfully I am feeling less alone now than I ever did.  Slowly, ever so slowly, I am building that sangha, that community.

But for now, my focus is on that connection with God.  A deep and personal connection.  A vision almost that God could hold me much like a child giving me all the comfort and love in the universe.  That feeling is what makes the struggle mean something.

Expanding Beyond Traditional Family

I always said that family is not who you are related to but rather it is the people that you love who also love you.  I used to think that this was just something I said to make myself feel better because my family was so screwed up.  But then we adopted and I truly understand that blood relations has nothing to do with it.

Yesterday we brought someone else into our family.  A 17 year old girl.  Her story reminded me a lot of my own and I wanted to help her so she moved in last night.  The official story is that she needs a place to stay until she graduates from high school but I don’t intend to have her leave then unless she wants to.  I think she will be just part of the family by then.

It is horribly tragic when people have kids and they are not willing or able to love and take care of them as they should and as the kids deserve.  The beautiful soul has a horribly alcoholic and from what I understand a sometimes abusive father and a mother who is beyond neglectful.  The mother actually came here yesterday at our insistence.  I did not just want to take the girl in without verifying her situation to make sure her mother knew where she was.  This mom asked me no questions about myself, my family, what we intended for her.  I have not heard from her since she left her daughter here with us yesterday.  I can’t imagine leaving my kids with someone that I did not know.

So this mother’s day, I have a third teenager that I am quickly thinking of as my own.  I tread lightly here because whatever the circumstances, peoples relationships with their parents can be complicated.  I don’t see myself as a replacement for her mother.  More as a new member of my little tribe who is just here to receive love and support.

Thankfully my daughter is thrilled to have her and she is going the extra mile to make this new member of our household feel comfortable.  Its a good thing.  This girl does not seem to have many friends she has met in real life, most of them are from chat rooms.  She does not have any family support although I have heard that her grandparents are quite lovely.  I talked to her this morning about including her on our trip to our VT house this weekend and her face lit up.  Just to be included, wanted.  My heart breaks for her.

So I find myself relaxing just a little bit on the technology rules for the house as she makes dance videos with my daughter.  And I find myself sitting back and watching her receive kindness and love.  Love from one human being to another.

I want to tell her to relax, that everything is and will be ok.  But it is too soon and she is too vigilant right now to take that in.  For right now, its enough that she has a place to be and a family to be with.  And I will take her to yoga.  A place to learn to breathe through life.  I want to tell her she is not alone.  I keep hearing the expression “you are not alone, you have the whole universe inside you.”  The lessons of yoga.  Breath linked with motion, meditation.  It helps.  As the community helps.  I hope that somewhere here there is something she can grab onto.

This mother’s day then will be even more special.  It will include another person for me to love.

Adoption: A Quick Look at the Beginning

I was talking to another mom today and of course we got to the topic of our kids.  It does not come up often anymore that my kids are adopted (twins) but today it did.  At some point in the conversation the woman looked at me and said “You took them both?”

It never occurred to me otherwise.  I guess I don’t often realize how hard the journey was when we first brought the kids home.  They were born at 27 weeks and weighed a little over a pound each.  They both had heart surgery at 5 weeks and both had BPD and ROP, one much more severe than the other.  They both came home on oxygen with monitors.  My son was in the NICU about a month longer than my daughter.

Our adoption process was quick.  One of the quickest I had ever heard of.  We started the process in October, the kids were born in October.  The adoption was finalized at the end of January, a mere three months later.

I spent six weeks in a hotel in another state.  My daughter was discharged a week after we got there and my son remained in the hospital for another month.  Every day I took my daughter to the NICU and I took care of both of them during the day.  Then at night I took care of her.  I could not wait to get home with them.  I was so happy all the time.

I would stroller her around the hospital stopping people constantly asking them “isn’t she the most beautiful thing you have ever seen?”  Everyone agreed.  And my heart would ache at night when I had to leave my son there.  I enjoyed being with them all the time.

Coming home was a challenge.  We could not fly commercially because of the oxygen tanks and the fact that we could not get a direct flight.  The doctors did not want them in the car seats for as long as it would have taken to drive (probably about 10 days with all the stops we would have had to make).  Angel flights came to our rescue and got us home, for which we were really grateful.

Maybe it was because I had never had one kid so I don’t really know how it would have been easier.  I can’t imagine my life any other way than the way it is.  I also could not see at the time that they were all that sick.  I was so certain they would be fine that I never questioned it.  And it never occurred to me that the kids would be split up.  I have always thought it a gift that they have the same biological and adoptive family.  We have always talked openly about being adopted and we saved everything from their birth mother for them.  We take it out every year when we celebrate adoption day so that they can look at it.

Our kids are comfortable with the fact that they are adopted.  I overheard someone giving my daughter a hard time about being adopted and they said to her that she did not grow in my belly – like it was an insult.  She looked at him and said no, she did not grow in my belly but rather she grew in my soul.  Best answer ever.  And indeed they did.

 

Mommy and Me at Playlist Live: The Aftermath

Watching them grow up is often a struggle for me.  My daughter’s excitement about coming to this event was infectious and at times extreme.  So it is no wonder that she experienced some disappointment; she had built it up in her mind to be something so spectacular that it was bound to disappoint in some way.

She is at an age now where the presence of her friends is part of what she needs.  It was nice to be here for her, but it would have been nicer had she brought a friend.  Someone with whom she could share her excitement and disappointment.  She could tell me about it and we can process it but that is not the same as being with someone who shares those feelings.

Indeed, the event was a disappointment in many ways.  She did not get to meet the people that she wanted to meet.  There was not much to do all day except walk around among the perhaps 15,000 people here hoping to meet someone she admires.  And the noise was incredible.  It seemed very much like watching a trailer for a movie that is really funny and then going to the movie and realizing that the only good part of the movie was the trailer.

I found the event fascinating in many ways.  So many young people in one place without any trouble going on.  I did not see any evidence of drinking, drugs, not even much profanity.  They were genuinely well behaved and often quite kind.  There were very young people giving out free hugs, songs, dance, and discussions on things such as bullying, body image, self expression.  And music that seems to appeal to this younger crowd more than it does me.  There were some with shirts expressing ideas that were troublesome (like the shirt that said “dead girls can’t say no”).  But overall I was really impressed with these young people.  That, however, did not make the event enjoyable for my daughter.

Throughout the day I watched her go from excitement and joy to sadness and disappointment and back again.  It was hard.  As the mom there is a huge part of me that wanted to step in and make everything better.  And there were times where I tried to do that.  There were also times where I felt I needed to let her be in the struggle, let her just experience being sad, overwhelmed, and disappointed.

We spent quite a bit of time throughout this long day processing her emotions.  She came to a point where she was able to understand that it did not serve her to be overly attached to having something happen, having a particular person being here for her to meet.  She understands the pitfalls of letting her excitement run away with her.  The need to reality check her expectations.  We called it a learning experience.  She had more independence here than  I have ever given her at an event.  I did not hover constantly although I was constantly in the venue watching over her perhaps without her knowing or sensing that all the time.

So quickly she will be an adult making all her own choices and I have to give her some time to start doing that where I can guide the process and be there to help her understand what went wrong and why and what went right and why.  But she needs to have her journey, not the journey that I want her to have but the one that is authentically her own.  I find my daughter to be a fascinating young woman and while it can be painful at times to let go and watch her struggle, it is necessary to do so.  With kindness, with compassion, with support, with immense love, I know she can face anything.

Being Wuddles

My son had a speech issue when he was younger and certain sounds were hard for him.  He could not say cuddles so it turned into wuddles and somehow that became his name for me.  I remember the days when he would wrap himself in a blanket and throw himself into my arms saying “Wuddles, I need some cuddles.”  This was after he learned how to say cuddles.  It was so sweet and would make my heart melt every time.

Our bonding was different than that between my daughter and I.  They were so sick when we brought them home, but he was much sicker than she was.  His lungs were not as developed and he had asthma which was quite severe.  He was in the hospital about 30 times until he was 8 years old.  The endless sleepless nights holding him while he struggled to breathe at home and in the hospital.  The vigils when he was on a respirator, waiting for him to wake up again.  My heart hurts just thinking about it now.  And I know it is part of what makes the bonding with him feel so intense.  And my gratitude that he is now healthy is palpable.

This week my husband was talking to the kids about getting tickets to a game and taking them but my son does not want to go.  I felt badly for my husband because he was trying so hard.  But my heart was so filled with joy at the look on my son’s face, his excitement, about the fact that he would spend the time just with me.  My 13 year old man/child looked at me with a huge smile and said “it will be mommy and me time just you and me wuddles.”

He.  Melts.  My.  Heart.  Every.  Day.

I just love them so much.