I have been musing about STRENGTH lately. As I was sitting in the hospital ward waiting for my son’s results, I just stared into the nothing wearily. Tired and scared, I looked up the sky and asked “how many more pieces of rock are you going to roll in front of me? What else do you want me to do to prove that I am serious about my work? Now what?”
A friend of mine came to stay with me after hearing me cry on the phone. She brought her fresh, light, easy energy. Within a few minutes another friend walked in and when I asked why he came, he said: I am determined to look after you all while you are in Ronda.
Again, I felt the universe was being friendly with me. I always feel knocked on my knees when my son hurts himself because he has a blood condition and injuries put him in a vulnerable position on a foreign land. This, in return, makes me feel responsible, guilty, small and just about anything else. And when I feel like this, I reach out to strength. Most of my life, I reached out to myself. Leaning into what I know, what I have been taught to do and make it through, no matter what. Yes…and my module on trust and love is still not complete, as example shows, I have some miles still to go.
This time I leaned in. I stretched right back into my two wonderful friends, who would give up their work and free time on Friday afternoon to comfort me, this lion hearted, wild woman who is …in need. To connect. To feel supported. Loved. To be told that I am at the right place at the right time. To feel OK about not having it all together. To feel OK about being messy sometimes.
So we sat there, sipping coffee and eating Mikado milk chocolate sticks. We were like teenagers, talking about films, food and the walking trips we will be taking when this nightmare is over. By the time the good results came, I learnt the greatest lesson.
Strength is not chest thumping pushiness but it is a quiet, receptive determination.
I am going to leave it with you. I know you will find the reasons why you have read this today.