"Slipping through my fingers…"

"I watch them go
with a surge of that
well-known sadness,
and I have to sit down
for a while..."

Confession time. I was a mess. Blotchy face, burning eyes. And although Meryl Streep's performance of Abba's "Slipping Through My Fingers," from the film "Mama Mia," does it to me every time, I didn't need a prompt that night. All I needed to do was think of the girls turning 18 on Saturday, and it hit me once again.

You see, being their (and their sister's) mom for the last 18 years has been everything I ever dreamed of. Caring for each of them, growing with them, nurturing their dreams and watching them become the young women-of-substance that they are today, has been the most extraordinary gift of grace.

And I say gift, because they are just that -- a gift. As an adoptive mom -- who was asked to return her first child to his birthmother -- I understand the heartache of surrender. And because of this, I have never taken for granted what it meant for my daughters' mothers to have chosen adoption as a parenting plan for their beloved children. I have never forgotten that the girls' first mother was - and still is - a selfless, trusting, generous young woman. And I will never forget that choosing to let me care for her daughters - as their second mom - was the greatest gift I have every received.

On Saturday, I will surrender them to their own majority.  They will be women.  They will have been in my heart's womb for 18 years. They have grown stronger in the graces of Spirit, and I have been stretched into newness of heart -- one of deeper spiritual love and trust. The shape of my place in the world has expanded. I no longer see things through my own eyes alone, but through the lens of our children's relationship with the world they will navigate, inhabit, and bless.

Yes, the are slipping through my fingers -- but like water, they will continue to carry forward their own spiritual vision for serving humanity.  They will nourish, and refresh the world they share with their fellow beings.  That said, I still needed a focal point as I moved towards this milestone in our journey together.

In Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures, Mary Baker Eddy encourages her readers with this promise:

"Willingness to become as a little child
and to leave the old for the new,
renders thought receptive
of the advanced idea.
Gladness to leave the false landmarks
and joy to see them disappear, — 
this disposition helps to precipitate
the ultimate harmony. " 

Today, I am holding on to this promise for dear life. Letting go of this chapter is not easy for me. I have loved it so much. I have loved being a mommy. I have loved doing their laundry, packing for camp, always knowing where they are, celebrating their victories, and sitting with them when their have hearts needed shared silence. I have loved our road trips and rodeos -- my funny little girls.  I have loved putting them first. I have loved them. I have love them with every fiber of my being. I will always love them  I will always be their mommy.

But you know, no matter how I tried to justify those feelings of melancholy, I couldn't reconcile them with what I know to be true, spiritually. In Truth, our children are not our children. They are His/Hers.  In fact, we are actually all the children of God. We are brothers and sisters in Christ. This is the relationship that is changeless. This is the timeless role that we will play in one another's lives. This is the landmark I must fix my gaze on, and walk towards.

Again, I have found clarity in Science and Health. Eddy gives me something pure and clear to chart my course. She says in her definition of "Children," from the Glossary:

"not in embryo,
but in maturity..." 

We are each fully formed in Love.  This spiritual maturity has been my touchstone throughout their childhood.  It has shaped my sense of what it means to parent.  It has allowed me to trust their wisdom and my own childlikeness.  We are, none of us, "in process." We all stand at the growing tip of spiritual self-discovery. They are ready. I am ready. And like the small bluebird babies that will soon stand on the edge of their world, and leap into flight with wings poised and courage undaunted -- so will we. As Meryl says in the above-linked clip:

"I wouldn't have had it
any other way.
My, God,
look at what we've had..." 

I agree, with all of our ups and downs - tears and triumphs - I wouldn't have had it any other way. I am ready for this next path on our journey together as children of one supremely wise and loving God.  I am so grateful that we have been blessed with all the spiritual tools we will need to navigate these steps forward with Grace. As Eddy says:

"Press on.
The way is narrow at first,
but it expands as we walk in it."
- Mary Baker Eddy 

If the steps we have taken together - so far - are any indication of the path we cannot yet see, the view will be beautiful, the companionship rich, and the days big with blessing.

with all my love -- and with Love,

Mommy

"Just as long, as you stand by me…"

"If the sky that we look upon
should tumble and fall,
all the mountains should crumble to the sea
I won't cry, I won't cry, 
no I won't shed a tear
Just as long as you stand, stand by me

Whenever you're in trouble
won't you stand by me,
oh stand by me,
stand by me,
stand by me..."
- Ben E. King

Disclaimer: I am re-posting this piece, as much because I want to share the above photo, as the following message. Today I've been humming the song "Stand By Me," and I can't hear it, without thinking of the girls.

Have you ever raised a pair of kittens from the same litter?  They can be curled up together and purring one moment, then pouncing on each other, rolling across the floor, hissing and snarling, the next!  

 Weekends at our house are sometimes like that.  Emma and Clara, our almost eleven-year-old twins [at the time of this writing], are like a pair of kittens.  They are at the same time one another's best friend and the other's most reliable opponent in board games, rodeo events, soccer scrimmages, and every race for the front seat of the car.  

When the decibel level in the house gets particularly high, and emotions run hot, I remember that these are the same two little girls, who - as babies - had to be close enough to be touching when they slept.  Even today Clara sleeps with her head at the foot of her bed so that she is closer to Emma's bed through the night. 

I have learned so much about identity and love from these two amazing little women.  From the moment I first saw them it was clear that - although they were absolutely identical visually, they were -- and are -- very, very individual in every other way.   And yet, there has never been any sense of opposites to their natures.  No good twin, bad twin.  Outgoing twin, shy twin.  Athletic twin, clumsy twin.  Never.  Their natures have been complementary -- not opposite. 

I think it is the same way that God's nature -- as Love -- is not balanced through a battle of strength and weakness.  But through the complementary qualities of strength and flexibility.

 And in the same way, the girls' natures have complemented - not opposed - one another from the start.  While Emma's lively, sparkly approach to each moment almost redefines the word "happy," Clara's deep, settled sense of being is the very expression of "joy." 

One is a rapidly flowing mountain river while the other is the deep, wide, langorous Mississippi.  And as they have matured, I am noticing that they have discovered the other's gifts, in themselves. 

When they were little, Emma was known for her gifts of speed and deftness, while Clara brought a thoughtfulness and care to the planning and execution of any project they shared. But today I see those qualities flowing more freely between them.  Working together, they have learned to bring a greater sense of balance to the interests and projects they share.  

They learned, that in any given moment they may be asked to switch roles within their partnership.  When needed, it is Clara that brings the deftness and agility, while Emma brings depth of consideration.  And there are moments, when one's sense of order, is complemented by the other's spontaneity.  

It is not order balanced by chaos, or strength balanced by weakness, but good balancing good -- different facets of the same brilliant, light-filled diamond.

Being with them -- and learning from their example -- I have discovered that I can expect this same sense of balance in myself and others.  

Individually -- and collectively -- we are not a mass of conflicting opposites, but complementary qualities, natures, and talents.  

 Within each of us is the twin natures of strength and flexibility -- never weakness.  Joy and sobriety -- not sorrow.  Compassion and wisdom -- not cruelty.  Hope and practicality -- not pessimism.  Beauty and simplicity -- not ugliness.  Grace and structure -- not clumsiness.  

We live as full-spectrum spiritual ideas -- individually and in community.  Our complementary natures stand side-by-side -- within us -- strengthening our core sense of being. And these complimentary qualities challenge one another.  They say, "come on, let's shine brilliantly and do our best -- together. 

Strength, kisses flexibility, and says, "Yes, we are different, but we are both good."  Always - and only - good.  God made us that way.  By being together, they've learned that they are each complete -- within.  They will take this with them wherever they go -- together or alone.

Just one of the lessons I've learned from my sweet little kittens.

I am so blessed to have had them as teachers.  And I am so grateful to be their mom,

Kate

"If you lose the moon, then be a star…."

"If you lose the moon,
then be a star.
It's not what you have,
it's who you are..."

It's the first weekend in May. It's the Kentucky Derby. And every first Saturday in May, I remember - again - what it all means to me. It's been decades since I discovered that a horse could inspire a girl to not give up. I love the song, "It's Who You Are" from the Disney film "Secretariat," for that very reason.

As a girl - and young woman - the legends of horses like National Velvet, Seabiscuit, Secretariat, and Seattle Slew, were the kind of stories I clung to each time my world fell apart. These were horses that -- early on -- were marginalized and dismissed by the elite horse racing community. And yet, each one rose from obscurity to become who they were meant to be.

As a child, I thought my circumstances destined me to be less. Not less than someone else, just less -- in every way. I thought that only girls who came from families of privilege and opportunity had promise -- would go to the right schools, marry good and kind men, and become women on note -- women who would make a difference in the world.

I didn't want to be wealthy or famous, I just wanted make a difference. But the cavernous yawning I perceived between my family's means and my hopes, seemed insurmountable.

And then I started reading books about dogs and horses who were given the opportunity to rise above their early starts in life, when someone believed in them, and gave them a chance to prove their worth.

I loved these stories.  I devoured them. But I didn't know how to find someone to believe in me. And it didn't help that for many years, I didn't even believe in myself. 

But reading -- and hearing about -- these courageous creatures gave me hope, courage, and confidence during many dark days when I felt like giving up on my dreams. And the more I started believing in their stories, the more I gave myself the right to believe that it might be possible for me to make a difference in the world, too.  

And when I opened my heart to that possibility, I started to see that I did have people in my life who cared.  Teachers, mentors, family members, counselors, neighbors, co-workers, friends who were willing to encourage me when my belief in myself faltered.

I began to look at myself as a spiritual being -- not a collection of circumstantial human evidence.  I started to explore what it meant to be the image and likeness of God.

What would life be like if it were true that we each (and all) have the fullness of God's goodness to work with. There would be no creature on earth who is "less." I started to see that how we look at ourselves -- and others -- can make all the difference in what we believe is possible. We just have to know where to start, as Paul says, in "running the race that is set before us…" That point of departure was the key.

In Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures, Mary Baker Eddy says:

"The starting point
of divine Science is,
that God, Spirit is All-in-all,
and there is no other might..."

The word "might" doesn't just mean power, but also possibility. As in, "what might happen…" When seeing the All-ness of God's goodness -- in all of His creation -- is our starting point, the possibilities for each of us is limitless.

And in this All-in-allness, there is no "less." No lesser being, no lesser potential, no lesser starting point. 

This spiritual potentiality is not based on human circumstances -- socio-economic opportunity, breeding, early education, geographic predictions, genetics, birth order, race, gender -- but on our eternal oneness with the Source of all good, God.

We have a little puppy.  We love her with all our hearts.  And when I look at Tessie, I am reminded of how silly any limitations on our potentiality really are. 

Tessie was an extremely tiny puppy. She was not able to fend for herself among her littermates and needed to extra care.  She wasn't doing well and wasn't expected to thrive.  When we took her into our home as a foster puppy we had no idea our limitless her abilities were.

Who could have imagined that a rejected one-and-a-half pound puppy would make the kind of extraordinary difference in our home, that she has. Who would have thought that she would inspire each of us to be kinder, gentler, less selfish, and more loving -- more of who we were meant to be.

Each of us -- as spiritual beings -- has the fullness of infinite individuality to draw upon as we explore our divine purpose and potentiality. 

We don't have to become famous to make a difference in the world.  We only need to become ourselves.  We can be wonderful, amazing, extraordinary men, women, children, horses, dogs and creatures with divine purposes that are written on our hearts. We can become magnificently compassionate -- remarkable for our ability to recognize the good in others and celebrate their beauty and the bounty of their spiritual gifts. We can be notably humble, full of grace, abundantly kind.

We can learn from each other, and inspire one another. If we are willing to open our hearts -- and our eyes -- we can find encouragement in all of creation. We can learn to let ourselves blossom into the fullness of God's holy purpose for us.  Not because we are ambitious, but just because it's who we are. It's simply who God needs us to be -- His Allness, in all. 

This year it's a horse named California Chrome that is inspiring me to see that the right starting point allows us to run the race that is set before us with confidence and grace. 

offered with love,


Kate


[photo credits: Clara and Tessie by Emma / Emma and Tessie by Clara]

"this is the sound of one voice..."

"This is the sound of one voice
One spirit, one voice
The sound of the One who makes the choice
This is the sound of one voice..."

We often feel that we are so alone in the thoughts we think.  That what we care about...our hopes, dreams, values, and visions...are our own.  But what if this song by the Wailing Jennys, "One Voice," is the truth of our one being, founded and grounded in one Spirit.  This one Spirit is the sweet wind that blows through us making music grand and gentle.

"...This is the sound of voices two
The sound of me singing with you
Helping each other to make it through
This is the sound of voices two..."

I've often wondered why we long for companionship.  Why the Bible promises that God, "setteth the solitary in families."  If we are already united in the oneness of Spirit, why do we hunger for this two-ness? 

For me, it boils down to consistency of being.  Whether it is in a marriage, or an enduring friendship...parenting a child or a lifetime of sharing memories as siblings...these one-on-one relationships serve as a window on the consistency of our progress as patient, kind, compassionate, nonjudgmental selflessness beings.  It is one thing to be kind to a stranger or an acquaintance in a moment of inspiration...but to be consistently kind to our husband, sister, best friend, daughter...this is something quite divine.  

"...This is the sound of voices three
Singing together in harmony
Surrendering to the mystery
This is the sound of voices three..."

Sharing our love with another is pure joy.  Staring into the eyes of our beloved, or communing with a bestest and dearest friend is sweet bliss.  But opening the arms of that precious relationship to include another...a child, a new friend, someone in need... expands our reach.  Or as the Bible says, it "enlarges the place of thy tent;...stretches forth the curtains of thine habitations: spares not, lengthens thy cords, and strengthens thy stakes..."  Our stake in humanity...our humanity...is strengthened when we selflessly share someone we love with another someone.

I saw this so clearly earlier this summer at camp.  Our twins, Emma and Clara, share everything. They love eachother so devotedly.  They live, sleep, play, learn, travel, and work together all year long. They share many good friends, but there is always a sense of their oneness...within the context of any friendship.  But this summer they opened their arms to include their cousin Tatiana.  There were so many times when I would catch sight of Emma (or Clara) with Tati, while Clara (or Emma) engaged in other activities, Or sometimes, it was both girls with Tati, and there was such a deep sense of inclusiveness that you could actually see it in their eyes, their body language..hear it in their laughter.  This opening up of their love for one another to include Tati was beautiful to see.

"...This is the sound of all of us
Singing with love and the will to trust
Leave the rest behind it will turn to dust
This is the sound of all of us..."

No matter how many are within the tent, we are not just individual tents...nomadic tribes in a searing vast desert of unrealized human hopes and broken dreams...huddling around our family fires in sympathy with one another, and for solace.  We are a village with a great Father who loves us, and is leading us all in a rising song of harmony, joy, and unity. 

Our dreams are shared dreams, and they are supported, sustained, and realized by our one hope to live together in peace and unity...fellowship and cooperation. We are not isolated, solitary, self-determined mortals who must look out for ourselves, or be left to starve in the desert.  We are one spiritual family caring for one another's needs, cherishing eachother's dreams, looking for opportunities to enlarge the place of our tent by taking another in and feeding him at our table piled high with love.

"...This is the sound of one voice
One people, one voice
A song for every one of us
This is the sound of one voice
This is the sound of one voice..."

This is the sound of one voice because that one voice...echoing through the chambers of memory and expectation...is God's.  And each of us can pick up the tone, rhythm, and melody of that divine voice and join in a song of:

"Pure humanity, friendship, home, the interchange of love, [which] bring to earth a foretaste of heaven. They unite terrestrial and celestial joys, and crown them with blessings infinite." 
- Mary Baker Eddy

Listen carefully and you will hear its soft strains...of Love...

with love,
Kate
Kate Robertson, CS

[photo credit:  Christian Hagenlocher 2009]

First Day of School...again

" I'll be alone
each and every night
While you're away,
don't forget to write
Bye-bye, so long, farewell
Bye-bye, so long
See you in September
See you,
when the summer's through..."
- Wayne/Edwards

I've always loved this song, recorded by The Association (and, as my husband - who teaches a course on "the popular song" - reminds me..others.. including the Tempos, Shelley Fabares, the Happenings...) in the 60s. It dances through my head everytime I think about shopping for three-ring binders and cutting down brown-paper grocery sacks (and ironing the paper flat) so we'd be ready for the arduous task of covering all the heavy textbooks we were sure to be lugging home after the first day of school.

I posted on this topic in September when the leaves were turning from a blanket of green against blue sheets of clouds and sky, to a carpet of mustard, russet, burgundy and…okay, bring me a fork because this is starting to sound like a great meal from Café Provencé …or something you might need a pitchfork to get rid of.

Okay, so I wax poetic and I digress.  Anyway, I will start over…

The leaves were brown and crunchy from searing heat this past September but I still felt some kind of “pull of the moon” aching for new pencils and the smell of freshly mimeographed pages of math worksheets, and the sweet cool air of autumn when the time came for the girls to grab their backpacks for the first day of “academic year 2006-07”. We sent them off with a hearty “have a great day” and a few tears (mine, not theirs) as they climbed into the car with their new brother for the commute from our urban neighborhood to their suburban campus.

It was a great day.  And usually, whether as a student, teacher or parent, I indulge in one of those a year and get my fix. 

Ah…but this year I get two.  And for this former overachieving bookworm of a student, consummate classroom junkie of a teacher, and recovering homeroom-mom addict, nothing could be better.  More tears, more nostalgia, more ”pencils, and paper, and chalk..oh my!” (must be sung to the tune of “Lions and Tigers and Bears”).  "See you in Janaury"...not so much... it just leaves something to be desired...and it's just not that catchy..

As you may know, our daughter decided to complete her high school career in South Africa.  This is a dream come true for her.  Becoming her mom was mine, so I couldn’t be more thrilled that she is getting to have hers come true, too.  I got out the pictures from her first day of Kindergarten.  I scanned and sent them to her as a reference point for how amazing God is.

And He/She is…

There I was in pictures taken 12 years ago smiling as her dad snapped shots of her in her little dress and new shoes, her backpack properly and snugly over her shoulders. There we were holding hands sitting on the front steps of our house at 7:30 in the morning, recording a day for future reference.  And as I sat there, I knew what that future reference was.  I had always known…with every journal entry recorded of her first tooth, her first step, her favorite food.  It was always in the back of my mind each time we took a photo of her dance recital, her birthday party, her new dress.  It was always there in my heart…there would always be someone I would want to be able to share Hannah’s life with.  There is a cosmic order to the universe.

I was able to recall my first day of taking her to Kindergarten with such sweet joy and without any overarching sadness.   I could remember the hours my sister and I spent sitting on a picnic table outside of our kids’ classroom, teary and anxiously waiting for them to emerge.  How fragile and silly I felt when the teacher marched by with the entire class for a tour of the school with us still there two hours after drop off.  I was grateful for the kind look of mixed understanding and sympathy she gave us as they paraded by in a perfect Kindergarten line.  That compared much more favorably to the look she and her cousin gave us when they saw us waiting.  It was the first time I realized I could be an embarrassment to someone I loved.  I thought that privilege was reserved for my mother.

As I sit here today and smile about all the things she will enjoy about school this year…class pictures, homework, finding a system for remembering library books before they are overdue, prom…I know I will enjoy them in my own way.  I am certain of this because I don’t feel ten thousand miles away on this first day of school.  I realize that I am as close to her as my love for her is in my heart and my thoughts of her throughout the day.  

Yesterday I found myself making the 7-hour time zone adjustment hundreds of times as I thought about her finding a group to sit with at lunch, organizing her locker, and emerging from the building eager to share the interesting, funny, and sometimes unsettling details of the first day of school…

…again…

“A mother’s affection cannot be weaned from her child,
because the mother love includes purity and constancy,
both of which are immortal.
Therefore, maternal affection lives on
Under whatever difficulties.”
-Mary Baker Eddy

It is neither time nor proximity that makes you a mother…it really is only Love that does…

K