Judge not, that ye be not judged.

I was making my bed one morning when something came up about a crab.  Without thinking too much, I made reference to my own association with a crab.  This, most obviously, raised questions and eyebrows with BigGirl.

I don’t remember when I first learned about astrology.  I suppose it was a piece-meal process found within the pages of Mama’s morning newspaper horoscope section and the back pages of Glamour magazines.  Regardless of its origin, I’ve always been naturally drawn to astrology.  I latched on and nursed it fervently, thirsty for more.  It was sweet and familiar and comforting.  I have returned to it time and time again throughout my adolescent and adult life. 

On that morning with BigGirl, I stood at the edge of my bed, smoothing sheets.  Pulling at the coverlet.  Neatly piling pillows, European, standard, throw, bolster.  I talked about stars and planets and symbols – crabs, twins, scales, fish, insects, lions.  I spoke of constellations and personal traits.  She listened, wide-eyed and fascinated.  Until, as I finally draped the chocolate blanket gracefully at the foot of my side of the bed, we left our lesson and the Wedgewood blue walls of my bedroom behind us for the day.

The next night, questions arose again.  I retrieved my trusty bank of astrological knowledge from the top shelf, and we poured through its pages together at the kitchen table.  FireDaddy joined us and dove into the pages for a few moments before passing it back. 

He remembered the many late nights I spent long ago on the floor of our office, leaning over my bulbous pregnant tummy, working on birth charts.  Consulting the internet for latitude and longitude coordinates for our birth places – first mine, then his, and finally BigGirl’s.  BabyGirl’s had yet to be determined. 

I remembered the mess of numbers and charts that flooded my mind for weeks.  I could see my yellow legal pad and scraps of paper with notes about days, times, places, and calculations.  Long stretches of self-doubt had been broken by fleeting, yet glorious, moments of triumph and sure success. 

I am aware that many people do not condone or believe in the mysterious knowledge revealed by the stars.  But, that doesn’t really matter to me.  I love watching BigGirl’s knowledge, theories, understanding of this universe grow and change everyday.  She, a brilliant star somewhere within the Gemini constellation, will form her own beliefs and feelings about God, heaven, and our amazingly temporary existence on this plane of consciousness. 

As her mother, I will open my heart, spirit, and beliefs for her to freely question and explore.  She will know the word namaste and, I hope, believe it.  I will tell her my stories of angels and baby Jesus and visits from souls of friends and family who’ve passed.  I will listen as she asks why God makes things happen and what I believe lies in the darkness between the stars. 

Until the day for which I’m anxious finally arrives, when I will hear from her lips how her intuitive little mind has explained the wonders of our world.  And, on that day, I will be the wide-eyed student and she will teach me.

A Season of Giving

 

 

That is my all time favorite church song.  As an adult, I attended a particular church for a while mostly because they sang this song every Sunday at the end of the service.  And, I loved the pastor.  He was like a loving grandfather, welcoming everyone into his humble home.  Even heathens like me. :)

December first marks, for many, the beginning of the holiday season.  The season of giving.  But, sadly, I truly believe that this “season of giving” has become much more of a “season of shopping, stressing, and spending”.  I’m trying so hard this year, as I watch my daughters grow, and pray they don’t get jaded to that “giving” part, to focus on the spirit and heart of the season. 

Hell.  When I think of it that way, who needs a season? 

I want my girls to be givers.  I want them to be filled with hearts overflowing with love for their family, friends, and fellow humans.  I want them to care about the world and the people and the air, the water, the trees, the wind, the clouds in the sky, and butterflies and puppies and apples.  I do not want them to wander lonely through this world with clear vision only as far as the end of their own nose.  I do not want them to view their beliefs, their thoughts, their needs as supreme and righteous, but rather, as one of many valid perspectives. 

Not only do I want them to love and care for others, but I want them to love and care for themselves.  I want more for them than I have been able to give to myself.  I see them through mother’s eyes: eyes that see clearly every fault and every virtue – and love them just the way that they are.  They’re perfect, even their imperfections. 

Over and over and over again I’ve preached to BigGirl, “All I expect is that you do the best you can do,” so much that she now cuts me off and finishes the sentence with that annoyed tone we’ve all used with our mothers.  The one that sounds like the teachers and parents on Charlie Brown.  The one that says, “Would you stop saying that already?”  But it’s true.  I expect her to do her best at everything.  Everything.  Not just school work and dance, but friendship.  Sisterhood. Being a daughter and a dog owner.  Being a citizen of the Earth. 

I have a friend who told me once that when her daughters were young she told them, “When you lie to me, I can see crosses in the back of your eyes.”  She also said, “Even when Mommy and Daddy can’t see you, God is always watching.”  (No offense, folks…but see what I mean about being Catholic?) 

I want them to carry God, Buddha, the Golden Rule, karma, whatever it is they decide to believe in one day, in their hearts always.  I want them to be proud of their every decision – or at least 99% of them.  I want them to sleep well at night knowing they gave to the world.  They made a difference in someone’s life each day.

I read this article today that discussed the importance of giving.  It’s important in ways you may not have suspected.  I’d like to try this project, and I would love it if you would join me. 

Give a “gift” everyday for a month.

Mind you, “gifts” aren’t always tied in pretty paper and ribbons.  A gift, says the article, could be simply saving the last piece of cake for your husband.  Or, perhaps you go out of your way to make your children their favorite meal one night.  Perhaps you give your change to a neighbor’s or friend’s child.  Perhaps you volunteer your time in a classroom – helping someone other than your own child.  Maybe you bring your co-worker coffee unexpectedly one day.  The bottom line is – do something thoughtful and nice for someone without expecting anything in return, other than perhaps a smile and a “thank you”.

I’m going to try it.  I hope you will too.

Let there be peace on Earth, and let it begin with me.

A little outside my funny realm

Today was an odd day.

It began as usual. Well, as "summer" usual. Leisurely sleeping in till a whopping 8 AM. Moseying around the house with a complete absence of any urgency at all. Throwing on a presentable gym outfit (you know the type: the one that makes you look fitter and more motivated than your really are) only to wind up putting on flip flops instead of tennis shoes. (I'll hit the gym a little later...I'll run errands now.) Getting Baby Girl ready for Water Fun Day at preschool (which may be fun for her, but it means more morning prep for Mommy, for which I've begun to curse the school) before finally loading up Lady (my Pacifica) and heading off for the morning.

As usual, that is, after my wake-up call. The wake-up call that announced the impending arrival of my future nephew, the soon-to-be-born son of Jethro. They were on their way to the hospital!

On this particular morning, I also had plans to meet a girlfriend for pedis at 11. Around 10 I texted her to let her know that Big Girl would need to join us, hoping that wouldn't be a big deal. She let me know she was at the vet and would get back with me.

A sinking feeling hit my gut. Her precious family dog of almost 18 years has been battling cancer for the past 6 months or so. When I finally heard from her, the situation was not good at all. She cancelled our date to nurse her girl at home. In short, this was the beginning of the end.

Throughout the day, I worried with her. I berated her with text after text, checking in to see how it was going. I ultimately joined her in her pet-sitting for a few hours. It was a heart-breaking afternoon. Together, we concluded, sadly, that this would in fact be her baby's last day on earth. She made plans and we waited for her hubby to return to town.

Meanwhile, I also waited for word on the baby. That excitement (and silence! MEN!!!) felt so odd - even guilty - compared to the sorrow of watching a different kind of "child" pass on.

Finally, ironically, they both made their journeys - at the same time. Both babies passed into another life - one into life on earth and another returned to heaven - around 8:30PM. The long wait was over for both families.

And for me...a hollow feeling. Tears lay stagnant in my heart tonight. It's hard to feel the joy or the sadness right now. Just ...feel.

As I pointed out the irony in the timing of this day, FireDaddy's response was, "What? Are you Hindu now?"

While I wouldn't go so far as to say THAT much, I do believe God "transferred" a few angels today.

May you rest peacefully tonight, baby angels.