On my 37th year, 38th week and 5th day, I became older than my Mother….
…how do you sift through a lifetime of ‘firsts’ that she wasn’t a part of?
…how do you pick up lost pieces with people who were important to her?
…how do you rationalize the thoughts of what she wished for her children and her life?
It’s an oddly suspended place to live. I’m carrying her years of prayers, hopes and dreams…carrying her ambitions-that-could-never-be; her longings-for-things-not-yet-hers.
I’m feeling her heartache, I’m feeling my heart break for the things that broke hers.
I’m feeling like I’m responsible for unfinished conversations, unfinished prayers, unfinished connections.
I don’t yet live with the joy she modeled for me. I don’t yet live with the contentedness she demonstrated.
I’ve lived trapped in a world of self-protection and selfishness. I’ve spent a lifetime trying to achieve in order to prove myself. I’m so happy I surrendered to the REPURPOSING. I guess I just had to live longer to learn some of the things she already knew.
It is a daily challenge to give up parts of who I always thought I was…( more truthfully, the parts of who I had created myself to be…)…and to live in a new way that simply surrenders. Surrenders to the knowing that it’s not all up to me, that I’m taken care of before I breathe my first breath of the day…
For all the things I will never know…for all of the things she will never see…for all that I don’t have to control, I give thanks.
I choose to live in thankfulness and gratitude for second chances, for do-overs, for redemption.
I choose life in a way that holds it loosely and learns to respond to gentle whispers and perfect timing.
I honor my Mother, her life, her legacy, her first love.