I find myself blaming myself for the way my youngest daughter E. has "turned out" so far,even though I know in my heart that I have been the best mother I could be. Wondering where it was that I went wrong. She is 19 now. Watching her destroy herself again and again when I've spent so many years doing my utmost to build her up and foster her dreams, is so difficult. For me it is akin to watching a terrible car crash coming that I am helpless to prevent. For my husband and I, it is a feeling of fresh grief and loss, mixed with hope and fervent prayer that she will one day find her way. And a feeling of exhaustion from trying to juggle my work, his work, new baby, homekeeping, our relationship and two other boys (ages 7 and 17) that need us too.
I can say that I am proud of E.'s selflessness when it comes to doing what is best for this precious and happy go lucky little fellow. She knows his best place is here with us until she "sorts out her life." I am grateful for that. And so incredibly grateful for this~
And grateful for SARK (Susan Arial Rainbow Kennedy) and her message line, and for introducing me to a now favorite poem that resonates so deeply with me.
Before you know what kindness really is
you must lose things,
feel the future dissolve in a moment
like salt in a weakened broth.
What you held in your hand,
what you counted and carefully saved,
all this must go so you know
how desolate the landscape can be
between the regions of kindness.
How you ride and ride
thinking the bus will never stop,
the passengers eating maize and chicken
will stare out the window forever.
Before you learn the tender gravity of kindness,
you must travel where the Indian in a white poncho
lies dead by the side of the road.
You must see how this could be you,
how he too was someone
who journeyed through the night with plans
and the simple breath that kept him alive.
Before you know kindness as the deepest thing inside,
you must know sorrow as the other deepest thing.
You must wake up with sorrow.
You must speak to it till your voice
catches the thread of all sorrows
and you see the size of the cloth.
Then it is only kindness that makes sense anymore,
only kindness that ties your shoes
and sends you out into the day to mail letters and
only kindness that raises its head
from the crowd of the world to say
it is I you have been looking for,
and then goes with you everywhere
like a shadow or a friend.
—Naomi Shihab Nye from Words Under Words: Selected Poems
Blessings to You and Yours,