A dear friend lost his mother this week. She was a rare woman who lived an extraordinary life, whose life was built of extraordinary love. Her life was, by comparison, not so extraordinary when compared to celebrities -folks like Oprah, or Bill Gates. It was extraordinary because she was married young, at the age of 16, pregnant with her first of six children, and her successful marriage lasted until her loving husband died earlier this year. Her marriage defied statistics, and her children carry on that rarity in their own lives, cultivating love at every step….
What makes this woman’s life so extraordinary is that she loved so deeply, so unconditionally, and she instilled this authentic love in her children. Indeed, each of their children, and their grandchildren –her great-grand children know a pure level of love that doesn’t come around often.
Together, this couple got it. They really understood that love is the glue that keeps families thriving, which instills self-confidence and self-worth in offspring.
My truth is, that I am more than a little envious of this friend’s loving family. I honestly don’t know anyone else who shares this depth of connection and support. And if I am really honest, it bothers me, leaves me a little melancholy, maybe even a little envious of such profound love.
It doesn’t mean I don’t know love. It only means that I have not grown up with such a thing as envelops this family. And they thrive. Offspring of this woman grow into perveyors of love blossoms that ripple endlessly outward from such fertile soils as this, season after season, generation after generation.
I thought I knew love. When I married, when my first born came, and then my second, and the third, and when my grand daughters were born, I believed that I knew love and loss and that I was no different from anyone moving through life…..
But I felt different. And when my brother dropped dead in his sleep at the young age of 22, and I was 24, love wailed from my soul as I felt the loss. We were close, as close as siblings could be without actually being twins. Our birthdays were 2 years and 2 days apart. We shared birthday celebrations. For better and worse, we taught each other much. We loved each other deeply. And when he died suddenly, I knew I would never feel such love that comes only of loss of a best friend, a confidant, a cherished, kindred sibling.
And then, I did…. I felt an even deeper love when my son died suddenly at the age of 21. That level of love almost took me out, right along with him. It goes without saying, yet here I am saying it: I’ll never be the same. How could any woman give over her body to give life to her child, then give her life to the nurturing care of that child, and be expected to ever be the same when that life is no longer? That expectation is a level of nonsense at its peak. It is not possible.
There is nothing like death to bring love to the surface. Nothing. And so I share with you today that I am hoping you are feeling loved this week. But I am wishing your love to be the smooth consistent type, and not that extreme flood brought about by death. But if you do know the depth of love brought only thru loss, I send you an extra dose of heart-healing love to cradle your fragileness as you find the gifts.
And I cannot help but wonder and ask, did YOU grow up with such pure love? I really want to know. I want to know if there are readers out there with this life-fulfilling richness that comes of loving parents…. I want to know if you have felt the depths of love, and how?
It’s not for wallowing that I ask you to share. It is for emitting great ripples of love from me to you and outward.
Today I reach out to say, I love you. And I hope you will pass that on to those you cherish. Let’s make some sweet loving ripples to help heal the hearts of all those who are open to the flow, globally. It couldn’t hurt….
PS~ Speaking of Extraordinary Love….
Blessings in the Mire: A True Story of Miracles & Recollections was the first book I ever wrote. It was the catalyst to my survival following my son’s death, and some who have read it, claim it has “healing properties.” It certainly had “healing properties” for me as I spent certifiably obsessive hours that croseed boundaries of what constitutes a day. Days ran together like tributaries into a greater sea of timeless oneness…. It was a pool in which I bathed, baptisted by mire.
A lot of unexplained (aka: other-worldly) events took place after my son died, and when I began writing Blessings in the Mire, it became apparent that I had always been blessed with miracles. I just hadn’t noticed them because they were so deeply submersed beneath the pain. The truth is, there is extraordinary love all around, revealed only when we finally allow quiet space for clarity.
We are all immersed in a field of love that brings infinite ties to our loved ones, whether living or dead. I had to feel the sting of my son’s passing, and then reflect to my brother’s death to see the love that has always blessed me. There are miracles untold when the layers are peeled back. –Not just for me!
I hope you’ll read Blessings in the Mire. And if you need it, I hope it heals your heart and helps you to see previously unrecognized gifts and miracles in the mire of your own life events. And if you know someone who has suffered loss, there may not be a more soothing or thoughtful gift. And, spoiler alert, the book has a happy ending….
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