Mothers Day
It is also the anniversary,
this month, of my Mothers death.
All four sons were with her
when she died in hospital.
I held her hand
until she stopped breathing.
It was a special time.
It was beautiful in so many ways.
Sad and distressing - yes
but a privilege ...........
I have blogged here before
about when I was working in
the East End of London.
Working with young people
including gangs - BHP's every one -
giving my all - beyond breaking point.
Demanding it was.
Giving it was....
... and at the same time ....
My Mother was about to enter hospital
to have her legs amputated -
one above the knee, one below the knee.
Here I was in East London,
in the most deprived community
in the nation,
a beautiful community
rammed with warm hearted humans,
working with beautiful humans
many who were deep into crime and
enjoying violence and .....
..... my Mother was due to enter hospital
over 200 miles away.
I was sat near the snooker table
in the club.
Back to the wall.
I always sit with my back to the wall.
The young humans I work with
had heard about my Mother
and of what was about to happen.
I was subdued that evening
and not my usual bustling,
bouncy, verbal self.
As I sat with my back to the wall
near to the snooker table -
one of the toughest of the
gang members
walked around the table
a couple of times.
Walking ever so slow
- walking ever so close
- but not stopping .....
Then,
as he walked past me again,
and as he did
he just stroked my hair away from my forehead
and walked on.
........... that was the point
when the sobs rose from my chest
as I felt it
- that act of beautiful tenderness .......
As I click these keys now
tears fill my eyes - again.
I choked, I think,
because I was at a depth of vulnerability
I felt and I connected with those feelings
- felt that.
Also it was because I connected
with the act of non-verbal sensitivity,
gentleness and kindness pouring out of
an inarticulate frame
of a tough and violent young man.
I remembered it now and it moves my soul ..........
I learned a lot from that incident of care.
That incident was not
a chosen moment of my vulnerability.
But I learned that it is a mistake
to see vulnerability as a weakness.
Vulnerability is all about
disclosing the authentic me.
Since then I have chosen,
and tried my best,
to reveal my vulnerability.
Not because I am submissive
(instead of assertive)
or in Child ego state
(instead of Adult ego state).
It is part of the process of me
'telling you who I am'.
It has driven my sensitivity towards
'the least' 'the underside'
and many beautiful humans
who I spend time with regularly
(who some say have 'special needs' )
.......... .......haven't we all?
So with the people we work with
- some people call them clients,
and those we work alongside
- some say colleagues .....
it seems to me that we need to practice
the naked act of sharing
when we feel life experiences
...... both the roses and the thorns.
Beautiful Imperfection ...............
...... I have had a weep again now
feeling blessed and emotional
vulnerable ...........
