Bubbles bursting with gratitude

 There have been rare times in my life when independent bubbles of family and friends collide and this past weekend was one of the best. My twin sister’s daughter was married on my husband’s sister’s and husband’s 30 acres in Clinton County. Three days of prepping, hosting the event and dis-assembling became a marriage of families, many families, as well as the happy couple: Sarah and Colin.

Uncovering the layers of relationships is complex. My immediate family was together for the first time in 10 weeks as our oldest traveled home from a busy college path and weekend job. My parents, who have grown a little slower, attended in addition to so many of my mother’s family from Iowa, mostly cousins, children of cousins and a beloved uncle. They drove the 12-hours on Friday, reveled in the ceremony and reception and turned around for home Sunday morning.

My sister from the DC-area, her husband and son made the trek. And, of course, my twin sister, Carolyn, was front and just behind center as mother of the bride. Her husband, my brother-in-law, whom I’ve known since we were 16, was at her side as he struggles with illness. He’s like a brother. His mother, who just moved to my town, attended along with her daughter and family from Michigan.

My niece Amanda, her husband, John, and one-year-old were there to support sister/sister-in-law/aunt Sarah tie the knot.

When Sarah and Colin decided to make the leap, quickly, Sarah called to ask about barn venues. They had recently become engaged and wanted a ceremony in Ohio (they live in Hawaii) while Sarah’s dad, Andy, felt well. As we talked, Sarah sheepishly asked if I thought my husband’s twin sister would remember the pact they had made when Sarah was a pre-teen attending the annual fall party and hay ride and asking Patti if she could get married here. Patti didn’t flinch then.

Or now. When I phoned her and not yet explained, she belted out: “Is Sarah getting married and does she want to do it here?” She hadn’t even known Sarah’s relationship status, yet she intuited with an automatic yes. That’s just who she and Tom, her husband, are. They hosted a wedding at their place in July and have held countless class and family reunions, a graduation, memorial service, holidays and the traditional autumn party.

Sarah had a tent with clear sides installed on the property and set the most beautiful scene, straight from Pinterest, she said. She doesn’t give herself enough credit. The geo-physicist has some creative skills. Putting on those finishing touches was such a pleasure as the bride’s family mingled with the groom’s. I met Colin’s mother, brothers, step mother and step brothers, a sister-in-law and one soon to be. If the family tree isn’t exactly straight, it was certainly filled with loving people traveling from both coasts to celebrate this marriage. One person confided they knew Sarah was “the one because Colin was so tender with her.” What a sweet and telling confession.

My heart was so full this morning in yoga as I recounted the rekindling of old relationships, the conversations, the new friendships and how the union of two loved and loving souls brought so many together. So many lose ends that would never have connected otherwise.

I am bursting with gratitude for the fullness of life and everyone in it.

Thank you, Sarah and Colin. #onemooreconway

Letting my Lily out

Tomorrow my baby turns 10. It sounds significant, maybe even awful. What, precisely, though does it mean?

That times passes quickly?
She's no longer a baby?
I'm a decade older?
I should be smarter?

Is it about her, me or both of us? If I'm honest, it's really about me. How I've witnessed her growth, been there to hold her hand, scold her and let her go at times. How she has changed me, loved me, pushed me, crowded me, molded me and increased my capacity for love.

It hasn't always been perfect, probably almost never. It has been sweet, bittersweet, maddening and I wouldn't trade it for the world. Well, catch me on an off day and I may respond differently.

You see, she's my wild child. Just tonight we had to threaten her to pick the beans she promised to pick last night. Nothing is ever easy with her. She whined our entire vacation, reminiscent of when she was a toddler. I know transitions are hard for her and if they're hard for her, they're hard for us.

Her bark is far worse than her bite and I have to remind myself of her age. She's fierce, feisty, persistent. And she's also my mirror.

She shows me what it's like to be wild and free. I model responsibility and discipline. We each desperately need each other, although it's hard for either of us to admit publicly.

When I'm having a bad pain day, she has always been my medicine -- a private tonic only she and I share. She also knows pain is my Achilles' heel and can manipulate that. I haven't yet figured out what that means for me. That I should always rise above the pain? That I don't need the pain?

I really am going to write a book someday soon titled Letting my Lily Out. I have to. To understand why each of us is in the other's life.

But tomorrow, the anniversary of the ten years since she first arrived as a beautiful bouncy hairless infant, I will focus on the celebration of having her in my life ... warts and all.

Happy birthday dear Lily!

• Is there someone in my life who acts as a mirror for me?
• What do each of us mirror for the other?
• How can I navigate a somewhat rocky relationship to know my lessons and give the other what he/she needs from me?
• What makes a mother-daughter relationship one of the most complicated? The most precious?
• How can I be more present in the celebration of that relationship?


You were
always
quick 

to be
born

to
walk
explore
talk
talk back
love
rebel 

I
attributed
it
to doing
yoga
throughout
your
pregnancy
and
labor


but
you're
really
here
to
teach
me about
myself


and
how to
love
all
the
parts
of
me
...


even
the difficult
and
feisty
ones

just
as
I love
those
parts
of
you