Today I had the privilege of counseling a mother and daughter. They are both lost and drowning in their own pain as well as a collective pain, that I believe can only be had between a mother and her daughter. As they are trudging through their healing (and it is mucky) they are also working on re-defining their relationship/s, and this sucks - it is hard, hard, hard to move from mother-caregiver, to mother-needing, to daughter-needing, to daughter-caregiver. And now that mother is ready to move forward, cutting those ties (having already grieved the loss of herself and now rediscovering the new her), daughter is grieving the loss of her mother (already having lost friends because of needing to be with her mother), and they are not sure how to put their feelings into words without hurting themselves and each other. Not sure how to move forward, what that will even look like.
And I know I'm making perfect sense here!
As I helped them hone in on their fears and their post-traumatic-stress, guilt, grief, I thanked my Heavenly Father for a daughter with whom I had just recently danced this dance. And I am grateful that my experience could be used to help this duo. And I'm grateful for a daughter who continues to dance with me.
And then - I lost my wedding ring, on my way to serving another group of folks at the hospital! And I was calm. And I knew all would be fine. I reported the loss to housekeeping and to security, then served.
Scott picked me up after my long, long day at the hospital. The first thing he said to me was that he had lost his contact! He'd looked for more than an hour for it. And he was calm.
We arrived home, I cleaned out my purse, and there was my ring. We went to where the contact fell out, and I brushed the carpet, and his contact flipped up, and there it was.
Loss, losing, finding, moving forward in newness, in gratitude for constancy and change, and the ability to be OK with either, knowing we have each other (mothers, daughters, husbands, wifes, friends, support).
I believe that if we can firmly rooted in the present, and not stress what's lost, or what might have been, or what could be, but calmly moving forward, one moment at a time, we will find what we thought we had lost.
Or who can at least be OK with losing, because it is part of being found?