The Sound of Raindrops: Promise of a New Day

 

The rain came somewhere in the night. And it’s melodic sound pulled me from bed earlier than usual, my mood considerably lighter than the day before.

Yesterday wasn’t so hot. And as surprising as this may sound, I was (and am) totally OK with it. I have learned that it is far more important to give myself permission to feel, versus sending a bad mood packing as if it were an unwanted guest.

Paying homage to my myriad emotions is what makes me whole–living guarantees that we will experience the all of it.

Pure and simple I can’t just show up in my life when things are great; no quite the opposite–when things aren’t full of wonderful, that is when I need to go far beyond showing up–I need to be prepared to roll up my sleeves and take care of myself. Sometimes that care requires time alone. Yesterday was one of those times.

I pretty much stayed out of everyone’s way.

Moods can be caught and I did not want to give my family my crummy one. I was mostly successful–Jimmy collided with it when he offered a suggestion.

If you are a woman then this may be familiar: When I’m in a mood, a man’s suggestion, (in this case my husband’s) regardless of intention, comes off as criticism. In my defense (yes, this is my blog I get to defend myself) his suggestion came at the end of a project. Not the beginning, not the middle, the end. As in: I was on #36, in a project of 40. If this were a word problem in a probability class it would read like this:

If a creative person is finishing a handmade project and a linear person makes a suggestion what is the probability that said creative person will hear suggestion as criticism, flip out, and bite like a rabid dog?

You do the math.

Anyway I digress. The rain…yesterday… after I finished up  my project, I had stuff to do, translation: cleaning. There is something about restoring order that helps me reconnect with myself. I was folding laundry when I realized I had been singing the refrain from an old Nanci Griffith song repeatedly.

“Oh, I wish it would rain, wash my face clean, I wanna find some dark cloud to hide in here, Oh, love and a memory sparkle like diamonds, When the diamonds fall they burn like tears…When the diamonds fall they burn like tears.” 

Slowly but surely the cloud cover of my mood began to lift, all while the clouds outside had begun to build.

It is so rare that it rains here in Southern California, a condition that sometimes makes me long for change. Maybe its my New England roots, I was conditioned for seasonal change. The rain for me is cleansing. Hearing the rush of it beyond the window is just what I need.

After settling into the couch with my coffee, I checked my email, there was a message from my son Kodiak, he is 17.

Subject: cool videos

Thought you may like these especially this one: Link. I also really like this: Link. It’s more inspirational but less interesting I guess. They’re both about 5 min. Love you!

I watched both videos. After I thought about Kodiak–so filled with love, life–the little boy is all but gone and in his place is this amazing young man, and all these years I have had the utter good fortune of being his mom.

His heart is full, he is healthy, he gives his love freely, he is enough and he knows it…

—11 Hour Time Lapse—

I knew when I sat down to write this morning that my time was limited, we were taking our daughter to the airport, she was flying to a lacrosse tournament in Florida.

Just before we left for the airport I checked my email again. There were several new ones–one in particular that I knew would have news.

I told myself I had to read it in the car, I knew Jimmy was going to drive, I needed to make sure Chandler had everything she needed so we could get out the door–it had to wait.

We got in the car, stopped to get her a bagel, checked the Sigalert, picked our route and once we were on the freeway, I opened up the email.

There are moments in life where what another person is experiencing rips right to the core. Reading that message was, and remains, one of those times.

The juxtaposition of the message that I opened and read, to all that I had been thinking about Kodiak, simply put, leveled me.

As a mother I am abundantly aware that there can be blows dealt to our children that no matter how much we wish we could take their pain away, take their place, fight their battle, protect them–we simply cannot. The only real and tangible thing we can do for anyone in this life is love them, support them, stand with them.

I am reminded that life can change in a blink of the eye. Once again tonight I find myself focusing on the utter fragility of it all.

This is the essence of living: from the everyday wonder, to the extreme cruelty. It is precious. It is fragile. It is maddening. It is beautiful. And sometimes it is so utterly painful.

It is in the unthinkable that we find our courage. It is in the heartache that we find our resolve. It is in the beauty that we find the awe. It is in the sharing that we find each other–living guarantees that we will experience all of it.

And when others ache–we ache with them. Although we may not be able to change their situation, as Jackie, in the comment section of a blog post I wrote beautifully said:

“…we can try to lighten the load, share in the burden — in whatever way we can.”

She is so right. This is one of the incredible things about community: People link arms, and do anything possible to lighten the load. Truly there is no act too small…