One is NOT Only

I was talking to an old friend yesterday that I have known since she was my roommate when I moved to Boston in my mid-twenties. We have not seen each other in over 25 years but re-connected several months ago. Thank you Facebook!  She now has four children and I have three. We were discussing our Mother’s Day experiences. Mine was very sweet. My children,  their father, stepmother , little sister , grandfather, our dear friend, Teenie, and I all went to a movie together-My Big Fat Greek Wedding 2. I said we must have been the only Greeks there because everyone else was in groups of two and we took up a complete row at the theater! My friend’s day was not so sweet. She spent the day in tears and visiting a beloved friend’s grave. She said she looked up from her tears to see a beautiful wildflower she had been wanting to see for years blooming by her friends grave. I told her I  saw  this as the Divine reaching a hand of comfort to her. Holidays seem to put a spotlight on the tender places in our hearts.

I thought about a beautiful piece I read recently written by a man, Michael, from my parish that lost his son a few months ago. He said he decided not to try and cheat grief-to accept everything it sends. That is profound.  I decided this is the holy part of holidays. Our guard is down, our armor develops a few cracks and the Divine is able to  reach in to our hearts. Grief does powerful work . I spent a long time resisting pain while looking for love. I finally learned that I had to re-open my heart to pain to know the love I was longing for. This is scary business.

I have a whole  speech about how why I don’t like certain holidays and how they make you feel things that would not bother you any other day. Valentines Day makes perfectly happy people lonely, Mother’s Day brings up a Pandora’s box of wounds . The truth is I am afraid of  feeling so much-what if I start crying and just never stopped?  As I finished talking to my friend I decided instead of dreading Christmas and hating Valentine’s Day I am going to take Michael’s words to heart and not try to cheat grief. I will let it be a holy day for my heart and be willing to see the flower of comfort the Divine is sending .

THE WELL OF GRIEF

Those who will not slip beneath
the still surface on the well of grief

turning downward through its black water
to the place we cannot breathe

will never know the source from which we drink,
the secret water, cold and clear,

nor find in the darkness glimmering
the small round coins
thrown by those who wished for something else.

  — David Whyte
from Where Many Rivers Meet
©2007 Many Rivers Press

©  Michelle Campanis 2016