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All have discolorations, crevices, holes. Taken in hand and and observed, they cause us to pause and reflect. Where have they come from? The tide has washed them ashore so that we might question them and see our own imperfections mirrored in their swirls of colour and grit.
Our task this week was to pick up each rock in our jar and name it. It seemed simple until I began to think deeper about the meaning of the words I was inscribing.
God, country, peace, strength. Unity...united we stand, divided we fall. It's so much easier to go from day to day feeling that we are important and loved, needed by someone. When our Blackberry announces our mother is on the other line, do we postpone our current light chat or do we take advantage of technology and hit the "Ignore" button? I did this once last week and I felt absolutely horrid the rest of the day. It was a split second decision but one made carelessly, as though pressured by the speed of our current world. Of course, I did call her back and we talked but it just wasn't the same to me because I knew I should have taken the call. There were a few days just a couple of years ago after some serious illnesses, when I didn't know if I'd have a mother to ignore and call back later. Such is the uncertainty of life. We can not tell the future so we should love the ones we're with each time we get the chance to tell them how much they mean to us. Even though the world seems to spin faster than in our childhood, it's so good to hear a voice on the other end of the phone asking us how we are doing, how our day has been. It is so good to know that we have the love and attention of another human. And so, like a ripple in a pond, the good feelings continue to the next person we meet or speak with. Love and affection, caring is passed from wave to wave until it reaches its destination. Unity gives us a hope for the future and love helps pave the way.
The next few rocks seemed to almost label themselves as I remember how good it felt to be loved; peace, calm, strength, mother. I sighed deeply, wondering if I had earned those words. I knew I was loved by my family and God but did I maintain my own inner peace and calm so I could project strength in the ways I chose to mother my children? It's a constant and well-known struggle for a mother or father to take the time to nourish themselves so they can lead out of confidence and kindness rather than pressure and an overbearing nature. The days that I found myself struggling to get through the days were the days I had not prepared my heart and mind for the important work ahead of me. The days that I forget, I have to go back to where I missed the target and try again.
I feel that it is through the strength of our Father and our families that we can become whole and well again. First, our Father is always there as He promised. Secondly, our parents and family are there for us if we let them in. So much of the depression I have witnessed has been largely caused by a feeling of being disconnected in such a busy world where "being connected" is sometimes just a buzz-word to sell more technology. Families here in North America seem to splinter off into their own independent strongholds and it's a matter of pride to survive without any help or support from anybody. These are the faces I see alone in hospital rooms, staring listlessly at the wall or out a window and I wonder where their family is. They have told me their stories and I feel pity, sadness and somehow, I'm ashamed.
When I became a single mother, I became very determined to "make it on my own" and I was always, and I quote "fine" when anyone asked. Never mind if I was exhausted and fell asleep with my clothes on most of the time. Or that I really hadn't had a break in months and I felt completely overwhelmed by my responsibilities. I felt strongly that a good mother is the backbone of a nation (having been taught that as I grew up). Therefore, I felt that the backbone did not need to be connected to the shoulder bone and I bore the weight stoically on my own. I wish that others would learn from my lesson and open their lives to the possibility of sharing. Not just giving but allowing care and compassion into our lives on the receiving end. So many mothers sink into a depression, feeling inadequate, overwhelmed and too tired to keep up with the increasing demands on their time.
I've watched ethnic groups from other nations and how they loudly rally around their loved ones at any occasion, crowding a hospital room with their loud chatter and laughter. Food always materializes and a person can't help but feeling loved and wanted in such a warm community as this. It seems everything is done together; the day to day tasks, side by side with the heartbreaking moments as well. We are like so many rocks in a jar, gathered together from different places, all stuck together in this thing we call a family where the best and the worst of us is often played out. Since my failing health has caused me to rely on others for my care and I am gradually recovering my strength, I have learned to appreciate the words I have written on those rocks and discovered their true meanings. Love comes to us in many ways. It is up to us to embrace life and choose the upward path, all the while seeing the precipice of failure, sadness, depression sinking darkly into a chasm where we can begin to allow ourselves to fall, just a little at a time. Or, we can fight and regain our lives through His spiritual strength and the Love that was here waiting for us before our days began. Like the first few waves crashing upon a quiet shore, waiting, waiting... Waiting for this Royal family to come along. I am thankful to God for all He has given me each day and I would like to recover so I can share what I have learned with others who have walked in the shadows and have forgotten the light and love that is waiting.
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