I Love You - More

I believe our children have messages and things to teach us. I can tell you stories from each of my kids. My youngest son, Ryan, has given me one of the simplest, yet one of the most profound messages.

Since he was a baby, our bedtime ritual has involved reading stories and snuggling. At the end of our cuddling, I tell him I love him as I leave his room. Since he was four years old, he has been telling me in response, “I love you more!"

I remember debating him over this thought for at least a year. I told him it was not possible for him to love me more than I loved him. Until I had children, I had no idea how all encompassing, consuming and pervasive a mother’s love was. I hear many other mothers say the same thing about their children – their lives and priorities changed the moment they had children. They had no idea they could love someone as much as they now loved this new little human. I felt the same thing with the birth of each of my children.

So, how could my four year old son possibly understand that? How could he know the depth of a mother’s love at a mere four years old?

 

Our bedtime ritual, including our “I love you’s” continued. At some point I gave up trying to explain the depth of my love for him. Maybe he had reached the ripe old age of five by then. I decided he would understand sometime in the future, but for now, we would say the words we each felt in our hearts, and I would simply allow them to be. 

During the next few years, I would begin a process of personal transformation. My marriage ended, and I would leave my long-term job and profession in accounting, and my small town of twenty plus years, as well as the state of Massachusetts, for a cross country move to California.

As I shed each layer of who I had been, I found parts of myself that I long ago forgot. Throughout this time, my little guy would continue to tell me he loved me “more”. But now there was another voice echoing his, one I couldn’t hear in the chaos of my old life. It was my daughter, Mary, whom I had aborted almost twenty years earlier. Her presence would come at the most unexpected times, but her message was always the same. I am here and I love you. 

 

 

The messages from Ryan and Mary came full circle in 2012 when I read James Van Praagh’s book Growing Up in Heaven. He writes that our children chose us to be their parents, even children who are miscarried or aborted. These children know that they will not be born, but choose to come into the mother’s life to help them learn lessons of self-worth and self-love. 

As I read those words, I sobbed. Suddenly, I knew Ryan was right. He did love me more. And so did my daughter Mary. They are in my life to help me learn a lesson in love and self-worth. There was nothing more I needed to do to deserve that love, I was enough just as I was. 

Now, when Ryan says to me “I love you more Mommy”, I say “I know Ryan, I know”. 

Namaste.

Cracked Open – Again

Have you ever been at a place where you thought you had freed yourself of all the baggage from the past? Cleaned all those skeletons out of the closet, only to find there was yet another piece to be cleared?

Well, that was my experience this past week. And boy, was it a doozy!

 

I thought I had done all my clearing of the past. However, last week, at a family reunion, I discovered another deep wound needing to be healed and brought into the light.   

This was not your ordinary family reunion. This was a “soul” family reunion, many of us meeting for the first time. As those of us who already knew each other hugged, one of my sisters greeted me, telling me how relaxed and beautiful I looked. Yes, beautiful. 

“Me?” I questioned. “Really?”

“Yes you," she replied adamantly. “Don’t you see it?”

I was definitely feeling more relaxed since the last time we were together, that was true, but beautiful? I wasn’t feeling THAT. As she persisted, I finally said I was flattered, but just did not see what she saw. On the verge of tears, I tried to change the subject. 


She was one of three people that day who told me how beautiful I looked. Yet I was not able to own that compliment. 

Serendipitously, through a series of God-incidences the next day, I realized that my feelings of unworthiness stemmed from the need to shine light on one of my oldest relationships. My relationship with my father. 

I sat down and wrote my dad a letter – a letter that would never be mailed - pouring out all of the hurts, all of the anguish. Decades of unprocessed memories of not feeling accepted or loved filled the page as I let the pain out, flowing like white waters in a turbulent river, unable to stop until they were completely emptied onto the page. Before now, I believed because I had intellectually processed my hurt, I was done with that work. But until my heart was cracked wide open, the way it was then and there, no mental justification was going to make me whole.


The details of my experience with my dad do not matter here. What does matter and bear sharing, is that the things that hurt, the things we hide and hold deep in our hearts, are the things that hold us back and keep us from shining our true beauty and light. Allowing the sadness to come out, to feel the hurt and pain, was necessary in order to embrace my authentic self.  

The next and last day of our reunion, I had made some new, intimate friends. As I walked towards my seat on that final day, one of them stopped me and said “Do you know how pretty you are? And you are not wearing any make-up either, are you?”

“Thank you.” I replied. I paused and looked her in the eyes. “You have no idea how meaningful those words are to me right now.” 

As I walked back to my seat, another woman stopped me with a similar compliment. 

Another illusion had been shattered. And miraculously, embracing the reality of all of it felt liberating and wonderful!


Just then, the music started to play again. As Abba’s Dancing Queen started to play, I grabbed my new friend’s hands and said “let’s go!” I was ready to own who I was, all of it, and it felt great.

Am I there yet? Time will tell. But for now, I am ready to shine a whole lot brighter!

Namaste.