As a grown woman, in her late thirties, I am learning how to separate
from my mother and be the woman that I am in this world. I am learning
that it is safe to embody fully, the woman that I am in this world,
regardless of what others might think of me. It feels like a nice long
drink after a very long drought. What a relief. And what a gift.
Every
Saturday morning, unless I am out of town, I have been dancing on the
hardwood floors of First Congregational Church. We call this hour
together, CommuniDance. Nearly 40 to 50 people come every Saturday to
create authentic community through movement, music and dance. It is a
moving, breathing beauty in this town.
I am getting ready to
step down from my position as chair of this committee. I have been
doing this for the past two years. I am letting my baby go. The
separation, at times, is lonely, uncertain and down right scary.
Frankly, it feels a lot like when I watched my son walk into the
kindergarten classroom for the first time. Agony, truly. The gift is, I
can actually
feel my own agony,
rather than manipulate my son (by keeping him home, holding on too
tight), or CommuniDance (stay longer that I want to, not trust others
to hold it), to alleviate my pain. Andrew can be himself, heading out
into the world, with his own huge light. And CommuniDance can be
heading out in her glory, shining like a big bright star. And I can be
me, with all of my agony, my joy and everything in between.
Last
week, I left the dance floor and danced into the sanctuary. Ahhhh, my
home. I look up at that rose window and sighed. I laid down on the
floor and rested my head on a step. Just looking up. Slowly, I stood
and moved to the chancel. This is where I just bring it to God. I can
hear God whispering,
Bring it to me, Jenny. Whatever it is,
Bring it on.
So, I did. And that morning it happened to be fear. An old friend. I
began to move my body and as I did, I watched the movement of other
bodies of 50 twisting, turning, bouncing, gliding. CommuniDance. My
heart began to pound, I felt scared, I felt grief. Then, I left my body
for a second. It used to be alcohol, drugs, sugar, other people, that
took me away from my feelings. But that morning, it was my judgment
that took me out of the feelings in my chest, to the chatter of my
mind. And off it went running, with criticism. Blah, blah, blah.
Everything it said is not important. It is not the truth. Then, I began
to hear the song of my heart. Thank God. And I heard from within, "You
do not need to hate CommuniDance in order to separate from it, Jenny.
What was that, heart? Could you say that again? And again? I don't get
it. "Nothing has to be wrong with CommuniDance for you to separate from
it. I love you both." Sigh. Tears. Stomping. Then, rest.
Andrew
and Lizzie are off on their first sleepovers tonight, Andrew at Toby's
and Lizzie at Auntie's. Andrew and Toby share the same birthday and
they are celebrating tonight with pirate ship cakes and sleeping bags.
And Lizzie and Auntie, a frozen pizza and Nemo. Lizzie packed 7 bags to
go around the corner to Auntie's house. Andy and I didn't know quite
what to do with ourselves, telling each respective babysitter to "call
us if the kids get scared." The truth is, we were scared. Andy has the
phone propped up next to our bed, just in case. But the beauty is, we
let them go. We didn't make them stay home so we don't have to feel
uncomfortable. We let them go and held on to ourselves, to God and each
other. It's the little things that teach me.
I am learning how
to separate through God's grace. God is leading me by the hand now,
right into Her arms. This mother within me, she is one powerful Love, I
tell you. She nudges me to live in Wide Open Spaces. There is no need
to be anything less than all of me. She can hold all of it.
CommuniDance and me. My mother and me. My dear, beautiful son Andrew
and me. My pain and my joy. We can walk out into that big beautiful and
broken world, with all of ourselves. Leaving no part of ourselves
behind, for anybody. We can run into this world, arms open wide,
knowing, above and below it all, we are loved.
Andrew and
Lizzie, eat the pirate ship cake, soak in Nemo, snuggle in those
sleeping bags, and all the while, my dear ones, know that you are loved.
such beauty in your words...i love how you articulated that you don't have to hate something in order to separate -- so so true yet such a challenge.