It’s hard to put the feelings that are running through me into words – one moment, there aren’t enough of the right words and the next, there are so many words, writing is like trying to close an overstuffed suitcase.
It sounds like a clique, but it feels like yesterday when Sarah was born. Every day since, when I look at her, I am reminded of life’s miracles – love, family, laughter and life itself. Sarah loves to hear stories about the day she was born and her escapades in her early years. And, yes, she cringes with photos we think are so cute.
We have volumes of stories we remember together – first days of school, favorite homework projects from building mountains to learning fractions, holidays with family and friends, softball, proms, lullabies, the journey of her favorite foods, and our 18 years of riding horses in the Rocky Mountains.
As her mom, it is wonderful being Sarah’s guide and teacher. In fact, Sarah is an incredible teacher to me, as she has given me the opportunity to see life in new ways and to know the sacredness of simple moments.
When I look into her eyes, I see her light shining through – the same as the day she was born. Her big heart and laugh melt my heart. I can still pick out her “mom” in a crowd and I can tell when there is something bubbling under the surface within her.
Sarah taught me how to love the world. As her mom, I experienced loving her beyond any love I had known. I realized that as a mother, I was connected to every mother on the planet – past, present and future – in knowing the love that guides our children and lets them go into their own journey.
Through her adventures, Sarah taught me how to understand the world. I remember what it took for Sarah to learn to walk – every movement she made from the day she was born went into her first step. Knowing and doing are not moments in time – they are the accumulation of our inner abilities, our teachers, and practice, including falling down and getting up.
Through Sarah’s experience with fractions and then calculus, I saw the difference between teaching and learning. Through the nights of homework, I realized that her teachers had “taught” hundreds, thousands of students. This was different than Sarah “learning”. Her learning was personal – the math came alive when Sarah translated what was being taught into her ability to do it and make it her own experience. Only then, did she “learn” fractions and “master” calculus.
I am grateful for the quiet time to sit and write today; and I am excited for the upcoming flow of final planning, activities, and celebration. Sarah and Alex’s wedding will embrace all of us in feeling the love and life that connects us to each other. It will be a homecoming for families and friends. And, it will be an invitation to remember that life’s moments are an expanding journey with new, open doorways beckoning us forward into those moments.
For me, all of this and more will be true – I get to be with Sarah and Alex through a lifetime of being mom.
Thanks for reading!