My daughter Paige's graduation ceremony exposed a hidden memory. A thought that had been carefully wrapped in the mind for just this moment. I woke up Thursday morning with a feeling that I don't have a name for. It was the same feeling that I had when we dropped Jake at University in the fall, a cocktail of pride and gratitude, bittersweet with a dash of loss.
As I sat in this and the tears rose up ( and continue to rise up every time I go there, like right now for instance) I remembered being 28 and in the hospital that first night that I was ordered to be admitted. Laying there away from my babies I was stricken at the thought of not seeing them graduate. I was not scared of cancer but I was very afraid of missing their landmarks.
Now I'm here. Is this exaltation? It's definitely an octave above gratitude. I'm glad that I'm alive. I'm glad that I have seen Jake and Paige graduate, and at the time of that great fear had no inkling that another person would be joining our family.
I'm going to switch gears here a second. My cousin-friend-sister-mighty companion Jodi and I have been talking a lot about fun. When I looked up fun (for someone who from day one wanted to know everything Google is the greatest gift) it is described as the interface, or the perfect combination of the expected and novelty. Of the known, some safety, and the unknown- a sparkle of surprise. Too much unknown and it gets scary, too much known and it's boring. Unless we've limited ourselves completely life is seldom boring, often scary, and there is a perspective that offers another option.
This is where the search has brought me. Life is fun. Spiritually I'm sitting in a place of knowing that we are eternal beings, we are energy and cannot be created nor destroyed. This eternal being is completely free and unconditionally loved. This is the known. Add in the unknown, this created, temporary condition called being human and you find the overlay that adds fun. Does this mean spiritual being alone is not fun, well, it would be beyond fun- but we are not there right now, we are here. Here at the amusement park, strapped in safely on the roller coaster.
What I'm liking about 45 is having the awareness that after every drop there is a rise. I can't tell you how many times in the past few weeks I've said "we could have relaxed if we'd had a crystal ball", My cancer, my sister in laws infertility, even the losses that we thought someone could never recover from tend to rise to unexpected and joyful places. If only I could trust that it would all work out. From here it's getting easier, and supported by faith that in the end it is all truly well allows for a safe dance floor to swing about with the unknown.
The mantra that's been coming has been 'you are taken care of'. Comforting, it's allowing me to slow down, allowing me to play.
Maybe I am graduating too.
With Love,
Fawna
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Coming soon: The Circle of Trust : a way to healthy relationships
