Go Tell It In the Sunday School Room...

I clapped three times to get the kids attention. Twelve little faces turned to me as they clapped back, then silence- waiting for what I was about to say.

"Ok! I'm so excited! Today we are going to start talking about our Christmas play. Remind me" I say with a quizzical look on my face, "Why do we celebrate Christmas?"

Our sunday school class hasn't always been this big. A few years ago, we needed one teacher, one room and homemade lesson plans sufficed to teach the message. Families started to hear of our church and now these twelve represent the middle group, pre-k through kindergarten. We have babies and bigger children as well. We have half a dozen teachers who rotate through a catalog-bought curriculum. We host kick-you-know-what Vacation Bible Schools in the summer and faces we have never seen before walk through the door. Boy - have we grown.

"Presents!" they shouted, nearly in unison.

Ok, maybe we haven't grown so much.

They are kids. I know that. For them, the thrill of Christmas is that elusive red-clothed bearded man and the loot he manages to tote around the world in one day. But, their instinctive response got me thinking...Even if "Because it is the day that Jesus was born!" isn't the first response out of their sweet little mouths, then why isn't a close second? Literally, a second behind the ego-induced reaction?

It's not. I can tell you that with certainty, because after I had gone through a series of looks: shocked, confused, dismayed, then determined, I said "Yes. We do give presents on Christmas, but who was born that day?"

Sadly, only a handful -(ok three) - answered without hesitation.

*********

Teach by example, right? What they see, they will do - yes?

Each week for the last two years this is how our Sunday School class begins. A song. It is an original so just make up your own tune - but it is the words that are important.

..."Good Morning - Good Morning - I'm grateful for this morning.

Good Morning - Good Morning - I'm grateful for my class.

Good Morning - Good Morning - We're grateful for this morning.

Good Morning - Good Morning - Bear is grateful for _________"...

We go around the circle and each child fills in the blank, stating what they are grateful for that week.

*******

I have been approaching this holiday season from a completely different emotional and mental place than usual. I am really moved by the "reason for the season" as some say. I get all warm and fuzzy inside just thinking about spending time with family void of any expectations and without a timeline to meet. I took more pleasure than usual this year getting the tree, selecting decorations and chatting with Bear and The Comedian about each one. They wanted to know all about each of Emma's and I told the stories with gratitude that were ready to hear.

Not surprisingly, I'm unconcerned with receiving gifts. "What would you like this year?" is met with a glazed expression. In the past, I might not have known what I wanted, but I wanted something. Actually, what I wanted was for the person to really observe me, listen to what I wasn't saying, think and search for the perfect surprise gift and present it with a flourish. How greedy. How selfish. How NOT what this season is all about. How very much I sounded like the Sunday School kids. The ironic piece is, I got exactly that. Last year, my husband followed each unspoked direction and I was flabbergasted when the perfect laptop appeared under the tree.

I got mine last year, and so this year - something has shifted. And, yeah - I know, saying you really don't care about getting presents is all noble and stuff, but I'm not done. I don't really want to give any either. And this is the part that really baffles me.

I'm NOT bah-humbuging! If you need a review see section 2 - paragraph 1. I am more connected with the spirit than ever. I am living in the moment, taking every experience for what it is even if it isn't the picture I saw in my head. I am satisfied with my daily life. The conflict here is that, I am a giver by nature. I LOVE to give. It feels good to give, to see people's faces light up when they receive. So, why this year is my givemeter equal to my receivemeter?

I have thought and prayed and meditated and ...I just don't know. The best I can come up with is that once you truly feel that you are blessed just by being where you are and surrounded by people who love you, then the other pieces seem less necessary.

That said - I know I can't - just, not buy things for others. (for the record - the kids gifts are wrapped and ready)

Any thoughts?

UPDATE: SOMEWHERE BETWEEN BRINGING COOKIES TO MY CO-WORKERS AND DRIVING HOME IN THE TWINKLING SNOW MY GIVEMETER STARTED TO RISE!!

Our Worldly Connections

When people ask me, "How are you writing this book so quickly?" my answer is, "I swear it is writing itself. It is like Emma is sitting next to me enouraging every word on every page". It really does feel like that. From a logical point of view, she is next to me as I always write with her scrapbook opened to the gorgeous 8 x 10 image of my baby girl. (If I ever get a scanner that works I'll share it with you!) But, aside from the obvious physical representations of her I still hold dear, odd things happen when I write.

I have always been forthright about the hard-to-swallow fact that there are chunks of time and specific days recounted for me, that I have completely blacked out. Bits and pieces come back to me when someone is very detailed in their description, but it is a forced memory and doesn't stay long.

In addition - before I lost Emma I didn't put much stock in this "world-to-world" connection stuff. I was a hard core you gotta see it and touch it to believe it. After she flew it took me a while to accept the feeling / sensing connection, but Emma is part of me (not to mention persistant and patient with me) and so I came to see what was real and true in my life, using all my senses.

I have to admit for the first year I was addicted to the John Edwards show. I would dream about going on the show and having him single me out on the first round..."Ohhhh" he would say sporting a seriously intense look on his face, "I feel a STRONG presance around you. Your daughter, right? An infant...Yes, she wants you to know that her death was always part of the plan and she is with you all the time." And just when I thought he was done and dissolved into tears, he would add, "E. I see the letter E. She insits that I tell you she is proud of the work you have done to deal with your grief." Indulgant? Of course, we all want to hear the words that we believe will settle our heart, but that is the beautiful part of fantasy...we get - exactly that!

Anyway, lately, when I arrive home from dropping the girls to their respective schools and open the computer, time disintegrates and my surroundings become hazy. It is like a portal exists in my dining room (for that is where I do the bulk of my writing as the office is too messy...I'm working on it!) and when the time portal opens I am back in 2000 re-living the pregnancy, discovery of her death, and delivery of our first daughter. Ok, maybe that's not so odd for writers, I mean, you do have to immerse yourself in the storyline regardless of it's basis in fact or fiction, but here is where the really odd stuff happens.

I'll be writing along occasionally amazed by the speed that a thought can fly through me and take form on the screen, and my fingers take off. They develop a mind of their own (or of a spirit in the chair next to me) and begin creating text that had not passed through the mental scanner I like to call "my brain". This all happens in the span of seconds and when I stop to look at what I have written I am shocked to see that names I could not recall have appeared on the page, hospital scenes I only vaguely remember are mapped out in intense detail, and insights between mother and child appear that are so novel to me, they bring tears.

I don't think publishers go for dual authorship when the second party is deceased so I'm not even going to approach it with them, but with you, the circle of other "dead baby mothers" (by the way I love that you call yourselves that with pride!) with you I will always share the credit for my words with Emma Grace. I know sceptics might challenge me and say that my perspective of the events are skewed by maternal love and grief, but they would be wrong! I know what I know and she is with me when I write. She is around us often (see previous posts - "The Burning Bush" and "The Eve") but when the room is filled with only the computer and classical music, our connection is stronger, fueled by a dual desire to reach out and spare other hurting mothers even one second of their pain.

Emma has a message she has shared with me and it is my job to share it with the world, or at least with the population of the world who is ready to hear it. To the skeptics, I say "Be skeptical, but it will only keep you from really living in this world for YOUR perspective is the only one that matters. Mine keeps my heart wide open at all times!"

I tell you tonight...believe.

Happy Birthday Emma

Well, the countown is over. My baby girl is 8 years old and if yesterday was the family day then today was all about me!

Before I left for my, "take care of my inner spirit" day I picked a card from my Law of Attraction deck and my Inner-Self deck. I know it kinda sounds like hocus pocus, but I do this everyday to center my focus and guide my intentions. Most days the card I pick really matches up with the tasks ahead of me, but today I was overwhelmed with my alignment. Today I picked, "I can relax into my natural well-being" and "I am not here to create sameness". I definatley intended to do both.

"I am one with God. I am more than enough. I am one with Emma. I am strong. I am a good mother. I am healing." are the powerful sentences I reapeated over and over in my head as I was lying face down for (hands down) the BEST massage of my life. Even so, tears escaped my eyes and dripped to the floor causing the massuse, massoose (how do you spell that word?) to silently hand me tissues under the sheet. Now, seriously, how was I supposed to use those tissues? I was face down, my head stuffed in that oblong shaped thing and had no access to my eyes. But, still, it was sweet of her. The most amazing part is I was competly unabashed. When I walked in the door I said, "I may be emotional. Today is my daughter's birthday", just so she wasn't competely blind sighted by my potential outbursts. How she made sense of tears as a response to my daughter's birthday, I have no idea. But, here's my perspective, this is my process and I am NOT here to create sameness! I have walked this grieving road long enough to be aware that anywhere and anytime is a possible opportunity for a heart reaction and it is my job to embrace it.

Embrace is a perfect word for today. After the massage (where I truly did "relax into my being") I was treated to a facial. I may shock some of you when I say, I AM 32 YEARS OLD AND HAVE NEVER HAD A FACIAL! It's true, well, until today that is. It was scrumptously amazing. So, on my sweet angel's birthday I opened myself to a new experience. But it gets better.

My friend teaches yoga and reiki at the spa resort. She treated me to a private class designed just for my healing. The seven shakras (again - spelling?) of the body combined with their affirmations shot me back to the hospital room and visions of a still baby leaving my hands, forever, but then something mindblowing happened.

On my mat in a position (ironically called the "corpse" pose) I was transcended, kind of . Cognitively, I knew I was in the solarium on a mat, but I was standing on a cliff, my toes reaching out over the rocks and my body slightly rocking. I guess you could say I was teetering on the "Proverbial" edge. I sensed there was a decision to make. I peeked down to the depths below me and could see that hospital room, see Emma in her tiny infancy, see the nurses taking possession of her, and see myself crumbling away - a shattered heart with a body for a shell.

Then, I looked up. I would love to say that I saw Emma or even some angelic symbol of her shimmering in the heavenly aura, but I can't. In fact, I didn't see anything. (not even my friend holding her hands only inches over me ) No, I felt deep in my inner gut, I knew, like the student who just opened the test booklet and felt a surge of relief that he knew the first answer.I knew that my path was up.

I knew the memory of Emma's physical body wasn't nearly as powerful as her angelic spirit. It is her spirit that has led me through years of emotional crisis to a hopeful place, an inspirational place. It is her spirit that brings rainbows, red leaves, and perfectly times songs on the radio. And so, I took a step over that cliff, but I didn't fall. I was lifted toward my higher self, my constanly evolving self, and it felt good. Simultaneoulsy, my chest heaved with sobs and the tears streamed from my eyes to the mat. I wept because making that choice not to allow my memories to lead my path was like a goodbye. I felt like I was letting go of my security blanket after eight years of holding it close. It is a fine line, because my grief will never dissapear, but I will not permit it to possess me, I am in control and "breaking up" with the images was a process in itself.

I checked out from the world today and checked-in with myself. The good news is I am doing the best I can. The better news is the world didn't stop just because I did. Emma was very busy today! Her most impressive miracle came in the form of a phone call at 4pm, exactly when I arrived home. To fully comprehend the massive nature of this miracle would require much explanation, so let me just say we, as a family, were waiting for something for nine months and this Wednsesday it was going to happen. Three weeks ago I got a call that it was not going to happen and we were back, indefinately, on the list. Today, we were allerted that there was a "freak" opening, this Wednesday and "did we want to come?". "YES! YES! YES!" I practically screamed into the phone as the receptionist had no idea that her "freak" opening was exactly the day we were supposed to come in the first place.

If I keep walking, one step at a time, towards her spirit our mother /daughter connection will stregthen, will grow and our hearts will form an integrated front. I'm listening Emma, guide me.