For the past few days, I have been thinking about my childhood in an attempt to understand it in a broader….and kinder way. Taking a tip from (once again) Michael Singer, I tried stepping back and looking at things as more of an observer than an active participant. When I let my authentic self (the observer) sift through those memories, it didn’t bring forth the painful ones, but began to look for the loving ones. (Which is what you might expect if you are looking through the “eyes” of your soul.)
I saw my mother and I sitting on the floor playing jacks. She was soooo good at that! I saw her pulling my dinner plate out of the refrigerator to heat it up for me (pre-microwave days) because I had a migraine earlier in the evening and had been too sick to eat it then. I saw her sewing beautiful dresses for me because she wanted me to look pretty. I saw her climbing the stairs to my room to ask me “What are you doing?” when I was in my hiding-out-in-my-room days and not participating in the family. (I used to think she was invading my privacy, but now I realize she just wanted me to be a part of her life!) I can actually “feel” her love for me. I tried to do the same with my father but I couldn’t bring up any memories…
And then I wondered about that. I know that my parents were the best parents they could be given their own backgrounds and baggage. When my mother died and she finally moved past the pain of her own childhood, she moved into a state of pure love, and perhaps that’s why I can feel those memories and her love now, because it isn’t being filtered through her pain. I suspect, therefore, that once my father leaves this plane of existence, and loses his baggage, that I will be able to feel his love “unfiltered.” It’s enough for me right now….to know that He loves me. I mean REALLY know it.
And now…I can leave my own baggage behind….