Patterns

In yesterday's post, Sam wanted to be sure you knew all about our "adventure walk." And he chose the photos to be included.

Today on the cusp of what is the beginning of spring in nature, though more cold and wet (we hope) will surely come, I'm thinking about patterns in nature and in our lives.

Leaves on the willows quickly followed the corn-like buds and their flowery openings. Shrubs flower while their branches lie dormant. On my walk this afternoon, I was surprised at the trees already in full leave--and others beginning their budding process.

Our life's patterns are formed, often without our conscious knowledge by events of early childhood. Were it possible to see those patterns in early adult live and re-evaluate them we would all no doubt hit delete and add, perhaps many times.

Recently my meditation practice allowed me to feel/see back into very early childhood and realize how I had decided that because of Mother's catatonic states (where she didn't respond to voice or touch) that I couldn't count on anyone. Sharing this with a centering prayer friend, I commented that my daughter thought I should have a bunionectomy and that my friends should assist with the after care. I told her that my friends were too busy, especially since the initial care consisted of staying off my feet completely and having the ice pack machine refilled regularly. My (new) centering prayer friend immediately listed all the friends she thought would help and offered to spend a night or two with me.

I'm not planning foot surgery in the near future and think that some would have understandable reasons for not helping, but it was an insightful exchange. Living alone for years, I still expect no help and I've trained my family not to think I'll need it--at least from them.

I have had amazing support from friends during major difficult times over the years, and I've lived in Boulder as long as I lived in Chattanooga, and much longer than either of my residences in Alabama. So I've been thinking about the pattern that has again emerged.

Seeing old patterns is a way to let them come up for air and for healing and also to let them go.

Since many of my day time hours are spent with my daughter, assisting in her work and Sam care, I'm wondering if I have merged thinking about her availability with that of Mother's?

Perhaps this insight has come to allow me to be more specific about my needs as we work together and to limit our work time to that which is really needed. It could be that I'm hiding behind the "I must take care of my daughter" voice that mirrors the childhood "I must take care of my mother" voice--that I'm letting that keep me from my writing and leaving time for whatever God's next call for me is. It's worth discerning.