Building Bridges

21 Jun 2023 Leave a comment

by Deb D in Love and Other Things Tags: , , , , ,

My daughter’s entire medical record arrived, as if by nostalgic joke, on the day she departed on a  journey 9000 miles from home.  The 2-inch stack of papers summarized her growth, injuries, and illnesses over 20 years, providing a dispassionate account of milestones and incidents that were filled with emotion in real-time.

This condensed flashback brings gratitude not only for positive outcomes and spared suffering but for the privilege of providing care and comfort to a little person who relied on me. One who now has people relying on her.

Peach is building a bridge, both literally and figuratively, with a team of aspiring engineers in Africa. At the initial shock of hearing that my homebody daughter signed on for this project, I asked why she wanted to participate. She said, “Because even though I know it will be really hard for me, I know it will be really good for me.”

Peach borrowed confidence from her future self like a warrior, setting the tone for this worry-prone mother.  When anxiety about my daughter’s endeavor threatens my peace of mind, I follow her courageous lead and choose not to check the box. 

Peach has been ‘adopted’ by her Siswati family. She has a Máke (‘ma-gay) – a mother who teaches her how to cook over a fire.  She, the baby of our family, now has little ‘sissies’ who follow her around, idolizing her, and giving her an opportunity to be a role model. The world is embracing her, and naming her by her strengths. They call her Khanyisile – One Who Brings Light.

We receive a much-anticipated call from Khanyisile and are greeted in the local language which flows off her tongue. Her excitement is contagious as she tells stories of both frustration and gratification in balance. Our girl is much, much more than she was a few weeks ago.

Through the intersection of cultures, there is much to be gained, shared, and tolerated – like sleeping on the ground, washing clothes by hand, and using a primitive latrine. Me thinks there are worse things a mother could imagine for a daughter who was raised in a relatively spoiled society.

Beyond the obvious, this project has depths of significance that no one can anticipate. It will change and inform many lives in ways yet undetermined – but not just because it’s an extreme experience. When we say ‘yes’ to any calling big or small, near or far from home, which awakens a new part of ourselves, the ripples of growth fan out and infiltrate life. Thus, when one of us expands, we all expand. 

Peach is bemused when I convey how impactful this project is to friends and family sitting on the sidelines. A grandmother in her final chapter of life marvels at the opportunities available to modern young women. Her otherwise monotonous days bloom with colorful stories from a faraway land.  “Imagine,” she says, “an offspring of mine doing something like this!” 

Grandmother feels a thread of connection and a comforting realization – She had a part in creating this. Her legacy of love will continue to move through life, long after she’s left it.

This awareness is not lost amidst the loneliness I sometimes feel as a result of my children being scattered all over the world. The fact that they each take a part of my heart with them is both the bad news and the good news. How can I begrudge life for enticing my children to explore it, even as it holds me in place? 

When asked at the outset if I would visit my daughter in Africa, the answer was a definitive ‘No!’ This experience belongs entirely to her and I wouldn’t dream of interfering in it.

Life has its own plans for me that require a bit of emptiness. It is counting on me to be still and wait patiently until I become privy to its next invitation. In my restlessness, I’m learning to live with contradiction – acknowledging that one can hold both joy and pain, emptiness and fullness, love and fear, anxiety and excitement. We humans are not confined to singularity of emotion. Life offers a ‘both/and’ existence, not just an ‘either/or’ one.

My Peach teared up when she talked about leaving her new family, despite the fact that she misses her birth family. I don’t try to talk her out of her anguish but rather hold space for it in the company of my own competing desires.

The more I become willing to surrender to life on life’s terms and to accept that I am but a witness to its greatness, the easier it is to see Life’s impressively self-sustaining nature. Through each of us, Life sheds light on hidden places, revealing and rediscovering itself throughout eternity.

BOO! Who?!

26 Oct 2015 2 Comments

by Deb D in College Chronicles, Just Life, Love and Other Things Tags: , , , , ,

scaredI’ve never enjoyed scary things. Halloween, haunted houses, thriller movies, and ghost stories make my skin crawl. People who revel in being frightened tell me about the satisfying adrenaline rush they get when they’re scared out of their wits. Here, we have to agree to disagree. Feeling terrified = bad.

Until this weekend, I hadn’t realized how far the scope of my faintheartedness extended. Husband thought he’d done a good deed by surprising me with a visit from Principessa who was supposed to be seven hours away at college.

There I stood, at the crack of dawn, half asleep on my feet in the kitchen. Stealthily, Principessa crept around the corner and planted herself silently in front of me. I thought I was seeing a ghost.

When I tell you that my brain stopped working, I’m not exaggerating. My body went into full-blown terror mode. My mind literally could not reconcile what my eyes were seeing.

When I managed to unfreeze myself, I began screaming repeatedly, “OH MY GOD!” until my brain unstuck itself and released a cascade of word salad that had my family laughing their butts off. The video that Husband took to capture the moment validates a breakdown of the senses so complete that I’m still reeling from the after-shocks.

For the remainder of the weekend I felt a little off-kilter. It was like playing that game where you return to a room and have to guess the one thing that has changed. In the weeks that Principessa had been gone, I had become accustomed to the uncomfortable feeling that her absence created. The empty seat at the dinner table, the lonely bedroom, the random pile of shoes that never moved. And now, here she was, in the flesh!

Like a new mother, I snapped multiple photos of my first-born with a desire to capture every nuance of her being. Principessa might as well have been an exotic bird – such was my renewed incredulity of her beauty and perfection. She would catch me staring at her with a silly grin on my face, so completely enamored of her that I had to fight the urge to squeal with delight.

The peaceI felt at having my entire brood together under one roof was indescribably satisfying. My heart and mind breathed a sigh of relief, creating a relaxation response that informed me of the low-level anxiety I’d been harboring since launching Principessa.

This emptying of the nest is teaching me all manner of things about resilience and balance and priorities. I could say that I’ve valued my time as a mother up to this point, but I’d not understood the concept of cherishing until the moments began to slip through my fingers as quickly as grains of sand.

My daughter is absent in form but has never been closer to my thoughts. The less she needs me, the more I long to take care of her. The more I say goodbye to her, the more it hurts because I know that the next time I see her she will be an even newer version of herself – one that may challenge my unrealistic urge to keep her all to myself.

Principessa wondered why I didn’t have more questions to ask her. In theory, I wanted to know every detail of her new life. But her very presence was enough to convince me that all was well. She exuded peace and confidence. My girl had matured at warp speed by gobbling up the buffet of opportunities available to her as a college Freshman.

We parted with mutual endearment. “I wish you could be at college with me,” she said, which made me wince. Even when we are exactly where we’re meant to be, doing what is best at the right time, we can’t help but long for the presence of our loved ones to share in the joy of the experience.

But this time belongs to her. I wouldn’t dream of inserting myself into the forefront of this adventure. Instead, I will take my place at the back of the book, buried amidst the pile of ever-growing bibliographic references that contribute to the captivating story that is her.

Faring thee well now.
Let your life proceed by its own design.
Nothing to tell now.
Let the words be yours, I’m done with mine.

‘Cassidy’ by the Grateful Dead