My daughter's birthday was last week. We celebrated at home with a barbecue with her dad, a neighbor, Walt, and me, and the next day at the nearby park with chicken salads, champagne, and a "cat" bingo game. She returned to New York for work, but on her big day, I sent flowers.
You never know what gifts come from mothering, but this morning, when I awoke, the gift was huge: the photo above with the text: "I freshened the flowers today and cut the stems. They smell so good. A very soft smell. Like the feeling of a Joy Point."
Those words filled my whole body with a soft glow, as I knew exactly what she meant, and somehow, I had raised a daughter who sent those words to me in the middle of her busy Sunday doings.
Mothering is on my mind a lot these days as my son John and his wife Ana just welcomed their third child into the world, Sabrina Marie. When I spoke to John this week, he was just getting off work at 8 p.m., filling his truck with gas, and dialing me up. He couldn't stop yawning, as he works around the clock at times because he owns a refrigeration company, and they are "first responders" to businesses when their machinery goes out. Everything frozen is thawing . . . or barrels full of fine wines busy aging are warming.
Yet he said, "I need to go home and help Ana, as she is more tired than I am."
With three children and a new baby, that makes sense. All this brought to me is to be in AWE of anyone who finds their way to parenting. The journey takes us to the brink at times, teaches us lessons, and gives us sensations and emotions that are hard to put into words.
Nuanced, multi-layered feelings are like that. However, today, I am grateful that I have been on that journey for some 45 years now, and fully aware that there is essential pain and more earned rewards to come as each of us learns, changes, and grows . . .
As a younger woman, I heard that when people get older, they often go on autopilot and retire. I don't think there is any way to retire emotionally when you have loved ones. Being in relationship is never boring, always changing, and for me, asks more of me than anything else does. It's that important and that subtle.
Memories of the hard times flash in my mind, but they seem like the spiritual's choice to make me miserable enough to grow up and be a better person. There were many hard times, but then there are the moments when you say, "This mothering thing is heaven on earth." I am having one of those moments today.
Perhaps that feeling is like a soft smell, like the feeling of a Joy Point.