Last week I shared about how I experienced my parent’s deaths differently. Today I’d like to share about the ways I experienced their love.
A few months ago, I had accepted an offer for a different job and I was waiting for my book to be published. Two separate opportunities that left me feeling scared, excited, uncertain and vulnerable. These were two really big things for me. I was leaving my workplace after 36 years where I was rather comfortable (maybe a little too comfortable) and embarking on a journey that would take me into situations where I would have to relate to people in a very real, compassionate, empathetic way. It was both exciting and scary. I enjoy relating to others and yet I knew I would be listening to people who are often scared, angry, frustrated, etc. You know, those emotions that most everyone likes to run from.
I was also putting my book, which displays my imagination and contains my thoughts and words, out into the world with the realization that some might judge it harshly or criticize my work. That is scary. But I had also reached the point that I knew if I didn’t do it, I would always live with the regret.
That is where I found myself that day. I really wanted to get some comfort, encouragement and support from my parents. I knew they would support me one hundred percent in my pursuit of both of those things.
That day I texted my daughter, telling her how I was feeling and she suggested I do a prayer exercise where I allowed myself to observe my thoughts and feelings, and then to bring Jesus and both my parents into it. As soon as I read her text, my eyes filled with tears and I got emotional. Uh oh. I know what that means. It was my body telling me this was something I needed to do.
It was a beautiful, reflective experience. Have you ever looked at an old photo album and it brought back experiences and feelings from the past? This exercise took me to a place where I focused on how I related to my parents and experienced their love differently.
My mom’s love was pretty much “tell it like it is.” It was practical, full of wisdom and straightforward. Don’t get me wrong, it did not lack caring and warmth, and she loved to give and get hugs from her children and grandchildren. I felt her love like a guidebook, something I could carry around with me so it was there whenever I needed it.
Dad’s love felt less about words but more about a sensation, a feeling of comfort. It felt like a warm, cozy blanket to wrap around myself, just like the hugs he gave. Ask anyone who knew him, he gave the BEST hugs!
After that day, when I need to feel their love for me, I like to visualize myself with my mom’s “love” guidebook, holding it close to my heart. Around and surrounding me is the warm, comfy blanket of my dad’s love, like a cocoon. They feel close to me and I feel safe and secure.
Their love complimented each other, and they loved well.
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