Generosity

"Lisa--this made me cry. My heart is full." This was an email I received from a friend yesterday. Stories of generosity inspire me. This email was a follow up to something that had begun earlier in the day. She has a friend who is terminally ill. She wanted to be able to give him a little vacation, a sort of Make a Wish, but for a grown up. Her goal was to find a place he could stay for a week in a house by a river.

I passed along the request to a friend who owns such a house. She not only embraced the idea, she said, "of course, it would be an honor. I have wanted to use the house to serve in meaningful ways. I wish we could do more to help him."

The view from where I sit is beautiful. A friend with a home, a friend with a need, a friend who is surrounded and supported by a community, even by those they do not know makes everyone feel good; those with the ability to give, and the grace to receive.

Mothers

"Can you have a crush on your mother?" This was a question posed to me by a dear friend who lost her mother last week. "Because if you can, I definitely did," she continued, "I could never get enough of her." Her mother was a lovely woman. Her children, in trying to describe her in a single word, used the word "joy." My own memories of her are of a lovely woman, always the most gracious, smiling, nurturing, non-judgmental, happy flurry of activity. People craved spending time with her because you felt like you were the most important person in the universe when you were with her. The world is different because Mrs. Craft is not here.

We don't all have this mother. Some of us take care of our mothers. For some, this is a life long relationship, mothering our mothers. I have friends who are in this role. For some of us, this happens only later in life. Some of us never have the opportunity to mother our mothers. Some of us have very stormy relationships with our mothers, and some have no relationship at all.

As a mother, and as a daughter, I can say with certainty that most mothers want nothing more than the absolute best for their children. Love, happiness, health, peace, success, a life of ease, and passion for your chosen path...these would be many of my wishes for my own children. I know that my mother has similar wishes for me.

I can imagine how scary it is when you have a child who has serious life issues--illness, abuse, loss of a livelihood, spouse, or a child. The fear of losing a child is the worst fear I've ever experienced. As a mother, you just want to fix it. You don't want your baby to suffer. How do you react as a mother if something happens to your baby, even if your baby is a successful adult? I would think that everyone has a different reaction, with the same goal. Some mothers would likely step in and silently take care of everything. Some mothers would probably create a sense of learned helplessness, "you are sick, you can't possibly do this." Some would completely disappear, overwhelmed. And then there are those who keep pushing their children as if there is nothing different happening.

Having had chronic illness almost my whole life, I have my mother to thank, at least in part, for my attitude that my illness is not an excuse for anything. There is no way that my illness was ever allowed to be used as a reason for lack of success. Sometimes I need help, and it is given. Sometimes I want help and I don't get exactly what I want from my mother. However, I am always grateful for the help I am given. I am thankful that I have a mother who cares so much. And, I am eternally grateful for my attitude. I am thankful that I have my mother. Several of my friends recently have lost their mothers. I think that no matter what age you are when this happens, you must feel like an orphan.

I wonder how my children perceive me? Do they think I take care of them, or they take care of me? Will this be different when they are grown? As a mother, I am always refining what I do as a parent. I am always learning how to be a better mother. My children are my teachers, my role models are my teachers, my mother is my teacher, my grandmothers were my teachers. Motherhood is a journey. I hope that as a mother, my children have the same perception of me as the children of Mrs. Craft do. Like a good vacation, or a great book, you never quite want the journey to end..."Mother leaves us wanting just a little bit more."

Just One Amazing Thing?

This week I went to the book launch of an author friend, Chitra Divakaruni. Her new book is called One Amazing Thing. She read a couple of excerpts from the book, and told some stories about her process as a writer and some stories about her life. The characters in the book take turns telling one amazing thing about their lives, while all are in a very difficult, potentially life threatening situation.

So of course, my thoughts immediately went to what my "one amazing thing" would be. Instantly I thought, well, of course, it is that I am the mother of four children, who I am raising to be good solid members of their communities. It is a remarkable feat. I guess if I was going to say what I'm most proud of, it would be that I'm the mother of four amazing people. That is absolutely an amazing thing, but it is not what I am going to choose for this blog entry. So what am I going to choose?

A few years ago, I had begun to see the threads that would eventually unravel my marriage. I had recently made it through cancer surgery, and chemo, and the after effects, recovery, having a child with profound learning and some mild personality differences, and being a mom, wife, friend, daughter, sister... and I was trying to focus on what was next. I felt like my life was beginning to run away with me. I felt like I was moving in a very random way, and not accomplishing much. Out of the blue, like she was asking me to go have a cup of tea, my mother said, "Do you want to go to the Himalayas with me?"

"YES!" was my immediate response. I hadn't really thought about it, but YES, hell yes. We would be gone 21 days. I had not been away from my all children for more than a couple nights at a time, and not that even very often. I busied myself with making arrangements, depending very heavily on my amazing friends to entertain, cook, schlep, and care for my children. I think they all knew how much I needed to go. They made it happen.

So, when the reality hit that I was actually going, just a few short days before departure, I set about packing. Wow, I guess this is really happening! When I got on the plane, I immediately grabbed the in-flight magazine, and turned to the map. I honestly had not really a clue where I was going. I trusted my mom as she made all the plans. So, Bhutan, Nepal, and Tibet. WOW.

Actually, the beginning of this being one amazing thing was that I totally let go and allowed my mom to take care of everything. I just trusted that all would be fine. It was very freeing. Being on a plane for 30 hours, you lose all sense of time. However, time was not of any concern to me whatsoever. Eat when hungry, sleep when tired, brush teeth sometimes. As we flew toward Bangkok, the sky was dark black and cloudless. It was filled with stars, and then the moon rose, a huge glowing crescent floating over the South China Sea, like a hammock peacefully cradling the night. Beauty. Simple, quiet beauty. Amazing, beauty is always there if you just open your eyes and look.

Then, after a whirlwind 24 hour tour of the bustling, busily modernizing city of Bangkok, we again boarded a plane and flew on to Paro, Bhutan. Bhutan is the most peaceful place on earth. It is breathtaking in beauty, simplicity, and happiness. I hiked, pushed well beyond what I thought I could do physically, took some awesome photographs, and made a wonderful friend. Something happened in Bhutan and also on the rest of the trip. I realized that when I reached out my hand for help, there was a strong hand waiting to grab it and pull me along.

We met people, shared food, went to festivals, got stuck in traffic jams on the single road in the whole of Bhutan, hiked, slept, and I.....exhaled. I began to breathe. My mind began to unclutter. I enjoyed the sights, sounds, smells, experiences, and insights.

Kathmandu was a stark contrast. A bustling, not very clean, noisy place. There was a coup when we were in town. Evidently that is not so unusual in Nepal. It was fascinating, full of so many interesting things, surprises, and a totally different type of beauty. It is very crowded. People in Kathmandu must be so much a part of the community, they just live and help each other. There is not space for too much independence. I experienced such generosity and friendliness at every turn.

Flying from the pace and crowds of Kathmandu, past Mt. Everest, over the Tibetan plateau was an amazing contrast. Stark, empty beauty was all we could see. Sand, and little streams, and absolutely no vegetation. We landed in Lhasa. The sites in Tibet were awe inspiring. I can't even begin to describe the Tibetan experience. The words that come to mind just now are light, methodical pace, determination, and faith. I hiked in Tibet, at 15,000 feet. I saw Buddhist monasteries and dedicated monks and nuns working on the daily tasks, doing what they needed to do, always with smiles, nods, and generosity.

I couldn't believe how fast three weeks passed. I had experienced a journey of self discovery, physically, emotionally, mentally. I had leaned so much about myself, that I am so much stronger than I ever imagined. I had made a wonderful friend. So, I would say that my One Amazing Thing was that this time helped me figure out how to move forward. The symbol for my life for the next couple of years was the endless knot. It twists and turns, and yet, there is always a path. There was always a path on the challenging hikes also. And there was always a hand waiting to help guide me. If I could just keep taking tiny steps forward, focus, and stay on the path, I would reach my goal.