Because: A love letter to my children

When you are a mother, you are never really alone in your thoughts.  A mother always has to think twice, once for herself and once for her child.  ~Sophia Loren

Because: A Love Letter to My Children

In the past year, my children, now in their late teens, began very seriously understanding their future potential. As their mother, I had always seen the gifts that lay deep inside them as individuals. I also saw the incredible strength they have together, as siblings so close in age. The joke in our household as always been: they are twins, just born two years apart. They each possess a powerful work ethic, an amazing sense of purpose  and a fully defined view of self. They also are endowed gifts that are the opposite of one another.  I respect their individuality. I love them fiercely. I am a Mama Wolf, and they are my cubs. I would do anything to protect them, to encourage them and to help them achieve their dreams. 

And yet, both children, at different times, have expressed a regret that I didn't "push" them more. As my son and daughter ventured out into the world without me, they saw the credentials that other kids have to be at the top of their 'pools'. My daughter wishes that I had not encouraged her to sail, swim, and work each summer. She has expressed a regret that she didn't, like so many kids, go to SAT camp the whole time. She now feels that she'd have gladly given up our Spring vacations to take AP exam cram session courses.

My son, however, feels he did just fine in school and is content with that piece of his life. He wishes, however, that I hadn't encouraged him to golf in the summers, and play soccer and baseball each Fall and Spring. He wishes that I'd enrolled him in intensive skating clinics and that he'd been tutored so that he could have spent as many waking moments as possible on the ice. He wishes that he hadn't wasted so much time with other activities...wondering where he'd be now in his hockey career if he'd had no other distractions.

My daughter is a wonderful student. My son is a fantastic hockey player. Perhaps they aren't exactly where they had envisioned themselves at this point. My daughter isn't yet the youngest woman to ever receive the Nobel Prize for Biology. My son hasn't yet been drafted to play Center for the Boston Bruins. They are working towards their goals, and I honor their ambitions. 

Therefore: this note is to them, my Sun and Moon.

Because I love you, I not only let you have mud fights, I brought out the hose. I let you get as dirty as you possibly could and never once worried about bringing dirt into the house.

Because I love you, I let you stage dramatic battles between G.I. Joe and Barbie, even if it meant finding tiny pieces of plastic ammunition for months afterwards.

Because I love you, I let you bring a bunny into the house without my consent...and promptly fell in love with her because you did.

Because I love you, my heart broke the first time yours did. I cried with you, both on the inside and on the out. I kept a prayer in my heart that you would continue to fall in love, and love would find you right back.

Because I love you, I cheered loudly at sporting events, even when I had no clue what was going on, or who was winning.

Because I love you, I let you wear your pajamas inside out the night before snow was predicted and then danced along with you when our district was announced for a snow day.

Because I love you, I snuggled with you and watched The Lion King (over and over) with you like on rainy days.

Because I love you, I let you just be kids...kids who built forts, who made sand castles, had sleepovers, roasted marshmallows. I wanted you to be kids who'd learn to water ski in summer and snow ski in winter. I let you camp in the back yard, build a tree house with your Daddy and made you picnic lunches to eat 'in the great outdoors'. 

Because I love you, I've encouraged you. I've subtly pushed you out of your comfort zones. You may not have noticed, but I love you enough to just helpfully spread your wings ever so slightly. And when it was time for you to fly? You just didn't realize your wings hadn't always been opened a bit...making the transition to fly that much smoother. 

Because I love you, I am not just encouraging you to continue on your journey. I'm encouraging you to soar.

Because I love you, I am confident that you gained strength from just being normal, happy, laughing, playing kids. And, now I'm confident that  you will be amazing adults. 

In fact, you are already are. And I love you.

The End of Innocence

Somewhere back there in the dust, that same small town in each of us. I need to remember this. So, baby give me just one kiss. And let me take a long last look, before we say goodbye. Just lay your head back on the ground. And let your hair fall all around me. Offer up your best defense. This is end of the innocence. ~ Don Henley and Bruce Hornsby "The End of Innocence


September 11, 2001 began as a beautiful day. The sun was shining. The leaves on our large Maple tree were just beginning to turn. We could see the brilliant yellows and reds outside our kitchen window. I was still homeschooling my children, who were 9 and not quite 7 years old respectively. We were curled up on the couch in our family room, reading "The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe". Josh and Caroline begged me to postpone their math lessons to just allow for one more chapter. "Aslan is on the move, Mom! We can't stop now!", they said. I realize that those two sets of beautiful brown eyes were both serious in their earnest request for more reading. I also knew it was partly a ploy to postpone multiplication tables. I was okay with that.




The phone rang just after 9:00 am. It was my friend, and fellow homeschool mother, Jennifer asking if I had the television on. Jen wasn't any more likely to be watching TV on a school day than I was. We took our jobs as homeschool teachers seriously. But, I heard the tone in her voice, and still couldn't comprehend what she was telling me. How in the world could a plane have crashed into one of the Twin Towers? It was with horror that the children and I watched the events unfold. What we thought must surely have been a terrible accident initially, clearly took on much larger meaning for the entire world.


It was the end of innocence for our nation, I've heard it said. No longer were terrorist attacks limited to unfathomable bombs going off in Israel or India. Our oceans to the west and east couldn't protect us with their natural barrier. We were no longer the citizens of a country who had to travel to foreign lands to protect ourselves. We needed protection here at home. Europe bears the scars of war from within the last 60 years. So does most of Asia. We had now joined the unwanted society of countries at war.


Because I'm not a politician, or journalist, or in the military, I can't speak for a world perspective. I didn't see the carnage first hand. I didn't lose a loved one or a colleague on September 11th. But, as a mother, I know what our family lost: its innocence. Until that time, my family flew several times a year with ease. My biggest concern was having enough items in my carry on bag to entertain Josh and Caroline for our trips. My only fear was that we'd run out of things to do and someone would melt down in public. After September 11th, our trips changed in tone. My children saw me pulled out of line and searched almost every time we flew. I explained that it was for all of our safety that folks were searched randomly. "Is it so that we don't hit a big building, too?", my daughter asked the first time this happened, "Don't they know you're a Mommy?". I tried to think about how to illustrate the concepts of fairness, equity and impartiality. It was hard to do when my children just wanted to go visit their Nana, and were afraid to fly.


As it turns out September 11, 2001 was an end of innocence for our family in other ways...in aspects that had nothing to do with the terrible events of that day. This was, ultimately, the last year I would homeschool the children. They both went on to doing extremely well in school. They loved their peers and were successful in their classes. They gained independence by leaps and bounds every year. I am exceptionally proud of both of them for their diligence and leadership, both in the classroom and outside of it. But, I still missed the sweet quality our days together had once had. It was the last year before I was diagnosed with cancer the first time. My life was never the same after my first cancer digagnosis. I would find myself revisiting this chapter time and again. I would come to the understanding that no matter how well I take of my body, it can betray me with illness. My husband was working in a job he loved, with people he admired, during this time. Although his career would take another decade to end, I look back on 2001 as the time in which my husband was working in a capacity he most enjoyed. 


Obviously, things haven't been all bad since that September 11th. We've continued to travel, to grow, to learn, to laugh, to cry and to explore. We have had outstanding years and utterly dreadful ones. We have known profound joy. We have experienced deep sorrow. Ten years is a long time, but it's also the blink of an eye. I am thankful for every day I've had since the terrible tragedy occurred. If nothing else, the terrorist attacks taught me to appreciate life all the more, to hold my children a little closer, to hug my husband every day before he leaves for work, to call my mom and tell her how much I love her.


Back on the homeschool couch, on September 11th, I used the remote to turn the TV off. I pulled a blanket over Josh, Caroline and me, and we read another chapter from the Chronicles of Narnia. Then, we read the chapter after that. And on, and on, until we finished the book. We may have skipped math that day, but I believe that time spent reading was vital. After all, Aslan was on the move.

A day off...

Sometimes, in a summer morning, having taken my accustomed bath, I sat in my sunny doorway from sunrise till noon, rapt in reverie.  ~Henry David Thoreau


When my children were younger, it often felt as if we were on a merry-go-round that was spinning much too quickly. Our days were spent rushing from one place to another. We hurried to get out the door to school, to pick up, then to soccer, to ballet, to hockey practice. We might have had Cub Scout meetings in the evening. We would be up until midnight creating a diorama for a 2nd grade project on dinosaurs while helping to make flashcards to memorize multiplication tables. Even vacations seemed to be too busy, as we hurried to visit one group in the family in one part of the country, while already planning the next trip. It became a stressful, messy blur of movement.


Every now and then, I'd declare a family holiday. No one would go to school, go to sports, we'd blow off Sunday School one weekend and we'd simply let the laundry go undone. I'd throw a blanket down in the yard, or in poor weather, in the family room. We'd watch Monty Python and make traditional English "set tea". We'd play endless games of Mother May I or "Guess Who?". We'd make forts using couch cushions and sheets. We'd make pizza for breakfast or pancakes for dinner. We would let the phone go unanswered. We'd leave the mail in the box. We'd read. We'd read. We'd read. The kids and I read all of the Narnia Chronicles in just such days. 


Obviously, we couldn't do this all of the time. We had responsibilities. We had work and lessons and life. It was all just outside our home. But, for a day here and there, we stepped outside the realm of 'have to' and into 'want to'. These were blissful, magical, dreamy lazy days. I wish we'd had more of them. Time does march on, of course. Kids grow up. It's much harder to miss AP Biology than it is to blow off one day of long division. The world becomes more stressful with every passing year. 


With the unbelievable dread of the news today, I find myself thinking of those days off wistfully. The horrible helicopter crash in Afghanistan broke my heart. The economic crisis makes me terrified of our own financial well being. My health being precarious only makes my fears more personal. I wish I could take a step back from all of it. I want to turn off the phone. I would like the television to either break, or to only broadcast shows that are lighthearted. I want to throw off bill paying, house cleaning, yard work, personal commitments and everything that causes me concern. I want to lie in the hammock and re-read children's books that are full of fancy and imagination.


I want a grown up day off.  Too often when my husband and I have extra time, we need to squeeze the most of it. While Jeff is mowing the lawn or sealing the driveway, I'm getting caught up with vacuuming, dusting and organizing. I wish I could wriggle my nose, like Samantha from "Bewitched", and all of those chores would be completed. More than that, I'd like to curl up and watch "Bewitched", "I Dream of Jeannie" and even "Gilligan's Island" and remember being 10 and having a day off from school.


I think we all deserve it. I believe most of us work far too hard every day not to have a true day off...with an interrupted block of time to do absolutely nothing. Or to do something absolutely silly. Try it. Ignore the news. Ignore the phone. Ignore the calendar. And just be. 


Just don't forget to laugh.

Mother's Day advice from a Veteran Child Wrangler.

Any mother could perform the jobs of several air traffic controllers with ease. ~ Lisa Alther  


When I became a mother for the first time, in 1992, I approached this job as I would any other new challenge: I read every book ever written on the subject. I struggled to rationalize the Sears' attachment childrearing method with that of authors who believed that strict structure was fundamental to a smoothly running home. I read about the merits of cloth vs. disposable diapers, breastfeeding vs. bottle feeding and whether or not to return to work shortly after my son was born. I made sure that my baby's room was neither too dull (so as not to diminish his brain capacity) nor too overstimulating (so as not to overwhelm him). I tried incredibly hard to give myself a crash course in motherhood before my baby's birth. I did everything in my power to create a network of support, a plan of action for each eventuality and a determination to be the best mother ever. 


I failed. Nothing one reads about motherhood can prepare you for having a Lego stuck in your child's nose on Christmas Eve or for the times your dog stands in the middle of your dining room table, at your child's request,  to eat her vegetables.  What I did learn was that sometimes, to quote that infamous movie from the '80's, you just have to say "What the f***."  

Therefore, it's with a little humor, and a lot of experience over the past 19 years, that I can pass along a few tidbits for the modest edification for new mothers:

• It's pointless to write a birth plan. Don't bother. Babies don't have plans and neither do their births. Some will come so quickly that you will barely have time for the doctor to arrive in time to 'make the catch'. Others will hang onto your intestines rather than give up room service in a cozy spot. Trust me. I had one of each.
• Let your baby sleep in your bed if you want to...especially if you're so tired you are unsteady on your feet. Your son will be cozy, safe and happy snuggled up against you. He will not grow overly dependent on sleeping with you. He will not leave for college still snug in the family bed. If he does? It'll be his roommate's problem.
• When another person says, condescendingly, that it's time for your daughter to be weaned, potty trained, cleaning her own room, doing her own laundry or calculating algebraic equations, smile brightly and say "Thank you so much! That hadn't occurred to me!", while going blithely about your own business.
• Read to your child as much as possible. The days will come in which you will beg your son to read a comic, let alone a classic. So, when he asks you to read "Goodnight Moon" for the 300th time in four days, just smile and read. 
• Expose your children to many different kinds of foods as young as you can. Children who eat nothing but hot dogs and chicken nuggets grow up into adults who eat nothing but hot dogs and chicken nuggets. That being said, you will not be a bad mom if you throw hot dogs in the microwave on busy evenings.
• Allow your daughter to wear whatever she wants. The time will come in which she will want to dress identically to her peers and shop in the exact same stores. When she's 3, if she wants to wear her Barbie Ballerina costume for the other 364 days of the year, in addition to Halloween, let her. You'll just be getting your money's worth. Wearing red flowered tights, a purple paisley dress and pink summer sandals all at once (and in January) shows creativity.
• When your son tells you, in 5th grade, that he wants to be a NFL Quarterback, a rock star or a cowboy, encourage him. When he gets his first job mowing lawns, he'll understand the value of hard work for the rest of us.
• Kiss all boo-boo's, cuts, scrapes, aches and pains. It really does help.
• Macaroni necklaces really do go well with everything, including little black dresses. If someone makes a snarky comment to you about your fashion sense, act as if it's a tremendous compliment.
• Let your kids take all the pillows off the couch to build forts, obstacle courses and secret hideouts. 
• Sometimes eating the cookie dough together is much better than baking the cookies anyway.
• Become an expert cheerer through all Little League games, Pee Wee hockey games, ballet recitals and school plays. Your child won't remember your presence, but she will be note your absence. If it's important to him, it should be important to you.
• When your son's heart is broken the first time, let him cry and understand that his feelings are just as valid as they are for someone twice his age. Just because someone is 15, doesn't mean sorrow doesn't exist.
• "Because I said so" is a perfectly reasonable argument.
• Make picnics, go for hikes, swing in the hammock, catch fireflies and build sandcastles together. Summer is magical when you're small enough to believe those warm days will never end. 
• Additionally, make snowmen, put extra marshmallows in the hot chocolate and go through the trouble of dressing the kids in snowsuits on Snow Days from school. When the weatherman announces that your school district is closed for the day, do the happy dance along with your children.
• When another mother's children are melting down at the library, in the grocery store or in an airport, don't judge. There by the grace of God....and so on. Ask if you can help out, instead of making a face at her.
• Take your kids to Broadway to see a musical at least once. The same goes for museums and professional sports games. Let them experience the world as a much bigger place than their own little realm.
• When the worst happens...when there are more bills than there are dollars to pay them, when you find yourself very sick and are scared about what will happen to your kids, when you have to explain the concept of divorce, death, natural disaster, war or poverty, kiss your children on top of their heads and let them know that, no matter what, it will be okay. Kiss them again for good measure.

Above all, remember that there are no perfect mothers. We are all just trying to do the best we can. 

This little light of mine...

Light gives of itself freely, filling all available space. It does not seek anything in return; it asks not whether you are friend or foe. It gives of itself and is not thereby diminished. ~Michael Strassfeld

Back in the days before Ipods, Pandora music online, their interest in MTV and Sirius radio, my children thought the entertainer, Raffi, was Elvis Presley, Snoop Dogg and Pavarotti all rolled into one. We never left the house without a Raffi cassette tape in my dashboard, and a trip to the park or the grocery store usually included all of us singing "Joshua Giraffe", "The Wheels on the Bus", and that solid gold favorite, "Baby Beluga". If you have had children within the last 24 years, you know about Raffi. His live shows sold out faster in every area than U2 concerts. Now that my children are older teens, they only have vague and hazy memories of this chapter in their lives. They don't remember making the whole family sit in the living room, so that they could put on a Raffi cover band "concert"; my son strumming a Ukulele, pretending it was a guitar, and my daughter holding up a hairbrush microphone. They took these matinees very seriously and expected all of us to sing along with them. Although they were only about 2 and 4 at the time, they would set the stage, have 'shout out' moments in which the audience would have to sing parts and would expect rapt attention. I look back on these precious preschool days with a mother's heart and a mother's memory. But, I also realize what a tremendous lesson these experiences were for them. My children learned how to 'shine' in a safe, joyful and loving environment.

The one song that I remember beyond all of the others wasn't a Raffi original, but was his take on an old gospel song. "This little light of mine" is one I find myself humming constantly. It was written by Harry Dixon Loes in 1920. It first became popular during the Christian tent revival movement during that time. Later, "This little light of mine" became a resounding anthem for the Civil Rights movement of the 1950's and 1960's. It's had political histories from many different groups. It's been recorded by current artists, such as Bruce Springsteen and Joss Stone, as well as in numerous movie scores. It's a catchy, upbeat and uplifting little hymn, that's just as appealing to liberal leaning folks as it is to conservatives. The universal message of allowing our inner light, God's light, to shine within us is a powerful image.

The inspiring second verse of the hymn uses the words "Don't let anyone blow it out, I'm going to let it shine...." takes the lesson even further. In addition to allowing our inner gifts, our beauty, our strength and our courage to emanate from within, we are also implored to remain powerful in the presence of opposition. I've learned a great deal from this second part of the song. Why? For too long, I allowed outside influences to effect my happiness, my self-confidence, my beliefs and my abilities. I acquiesced to the leanings of other people. It's a wonderful thing to be able to learn from others, to share information and to be partners. It's quite another to allow them to steam-roll over you to change your opinion into theirs. No one should have the authority, or ability, to snuff out the light that shines in another person's heart. No one should be so demoralized that their feelings, their gifts and their very essence should be demeaned and vanquished. We should all be safe enough in our lives to shine in the way we were meant to.

What area of your own life could use a light to shine upon it? Could it be your relationships....do you need to see, with true awareness what is, and isn't, working in them? Is it, possibly, your ability to contribute valuable ideas? Far too many organizations and workplaces stifle creative, lateral thinking...but do you have an idea you can share to make work more successful, happy and streamlined? What about your faith traditions....are the ones you grew up with working for you, or do you need to seek out a path that speaks to your heart? What will it take, in every area of your life's journey, to kindle the flame of light within you? How can you fan the flames of love, confidence, success, passion, joyfulness and determination? Conversely, how can you keep that light burning, when others try to 'blow it out'?

When you need to, hum "This little light of mine". Don't worry about what the people around think. Sing away. Dance. Dream. Be in the light. Keep the light going. And, pass it on.

This little light of mine, I'm gonna let it shine.

This little light of mine, I'm gonna let it shine, let it shine, let it shine, let it shine.

Connections....

Not long ago, I was fortunate to happen upon a television program about one of my real life idols, Jane Goodall. I happen to adore Dr. Goodall's work, her books, and her passionate mission to educate the world about African primates. Dr. Goodall was far more of an anthropologist than she was a zoologist. She didn't study the chimpanzees and great apes. She lived with them. She built relationships with them by sitting quietly, observing them, interacting with them in their own language. She learned to communicate 'primate', not by forcing her will upon these wild creatures, but by introducing herself into *their* world. Dr. Goodall, not only became a member of various tribes of large primates, but she also got to know each family member throughout the generations. She didn't study them or their responses in control situations in a lab. She learned what their strengths and skills were by studying them in the wild. For hundreds of years, scientists removed chimpanzees and apes from Africa, to study them in climates and conditions far removed from their lives in their homeland. While some progress was made, sadly, far too often, these animals died in captivity...not only from accurate food deprivation, but from being separated from their families. What Jane Goodall was able to show the world, by her lifetime spent learning the intricate family, and group, connections, is that the bonds these animals forge is much like a human family: there are good relationships and bad ones. There are wonderful mothers, and negligent ones. There are involved fathers, and those who would hurt their young. There are meaningful, loving interactions and there are relationships based on fear. Just like human beings, primates, in their own environment need love, attention, human touch and kindness to survive.

Unfortunately, many primates have healthier relationships than some humans do with their children and with one another. My heart broke when I learned of another story...this one the antithesis of what Jane Goodall was studying: it was about a little girl who was quite literally, left to her own survival in the basement of her mother's home. Without going into too much detail, this poor child was deprived of every kind of human kindness, affection, and even basic interaction. As a result, she had the brain development of a 6 month old baby...at age 8 years old. This devastatingly heart breaking story had me sobbing for the pain of this poor child, but I was uplifting to learn that she had been adopted by a wonderful family, and was very slowly making progress in her physical and intellectual development. Interestingly, she was having to work through all the stages that babies do: she needed to learn to crawl, the be held upright, to sit in a chair unassisted, to feed herself. She needed to work through each milestone that a baby and a toddler would, and she has been able to make progress because of the deep connection she has grown with her incredible adoptive parents.

These two stories illustrate how crucial the connections we make are: to really understand who we are as human beings, and what we are capable of achieving, we have to value the connections we have with people in our lives. From our earliest relationships, these connections form the most fundamental resource in brain connections. Multiple research has shown a strong fact: infants who have strong, loving, interactive connections with their primary caregivers are more likely to have strong, loving, interactive relationships with others in their lives. Additionally, facts have been proving that loving relationships in infants and young children have actually been proven to *stimulate and create* connective brain tissue. Therefore, children who are spoken to, made eye contact with, held, loved, involved and cherished are children who are going to have a higher activity of brain stimulation, creating new pathways that are essential in all areas of growth and development.

But, does connectedness, and our need for it, diminish over time? Absolutely not. As human beings, unless we are highly introverted, we desperately need the interaction of other people. We need conversation, stimulation and cooperation. If we are missing these components of our lives, far too often, this can result in brain chemistry altering. Particularly in the elderly, we see that people who are loved, cherished and 'needed' are far more likely to continue to live active, interesting lives, than the elderly who are 'shut ins'. Our brains crave interaction with others...and meaningful conversation. Additionally, many mothers of young children, who are home raising them, and have left their work outside the home, find they can easily slip into lethargy. By participating in mother's groups, and maintaining their own interests with other new mothers (who understand their struggles), they're able to feel vital and less depressed. Every person, in every group, in society benefits from being a valued member, who has a something to contribute to the world around her.

In my Yoga classes, I'll often ask students to pair up to work on partner Yoga. Making basic asanas, such as Tree Pose, as seen in the photo to the left, into tandem poses, students gain in learning connections. It's not easy to hold a balance pose. It's even tougher when you're relying on someone else's balance. Yet, these can be some of the most popular exercises in my classes. With a partner, the yogini can stretch further than she would on her own. She is able to work into tough asanas, knowing that her partner can 'spot' her. The yogini also can feel a deep connection to helping her partner achieve her own goals. I'll always remember when two of my students, one an elderly woman in her late 70's, and her partner, a college student in her late teens, made a coffee date after class. They had just successfully assisted one another in achieving "Wheel Pose", similar to a back bend from the ground up. They were so proud, and thrilled, to have worked through their individual difficulties and to have triumphed together. And, so a purple haired college junior with a nose ring, invited her friend, a very proper British woman who always wore her pearls in class, for celebration over scones and cappuccino. In my eyes, that connection they made was far more impressive than the back bend.

Connections are crucial to us, in every stage of life. Make sure that you nourish those. Just as a baby needs to be held, rocked, crooned to and spoken with, our adult friends need interaction and attention, as well. We need to firm up those bonds and create strong ties with one another. This helps us feel more grounded in who we are, as people, and it also provides us with a wonderful network, with whom to share our joys, our sorrows and our every day events. So, find a pal...or better still...invite someone who may seem a bit lonely, out for cappuccino and scones. You may just end up finding a wonderful friend to help partner on life's journey. Just make sure you are learning to speak in their "language": you will find your connection to be much more real than imposing your own.

The greatest danger to our future is apathy in our connectedness. ~ Jane Goodall

Sea Glass

Maine’s beaches are quite unlike those in other parts of the country. We don’t have vast quantities of white sand, or expanses that attract high rise hotels, for the most part. Most of our beaches are moderately, to extremely, rocky. Many are hard to access. They are often deserted, except for the very hottest days of summer. With the exception of the tourist laden areas, most Maine beaches are extremely natural in their environment…meaning they’re not groomed, landscaped, seaweed removed or tidy. They do possess a wild beauty, but one has to be willing to look past the fallen down trees, the low tide sludge and the slippery green rocks to see that loveliness. These are beaches in the most rustic sense of the word. There is sand, there are rocks, there is saltwater and gentle waves. Occasionally, one will see something unexpected, like a seal bobbing just offshore, or a brightly painted lobster buoy that pulled free of its mooring. One might see dozens of mussels, already cracked open with their rainbow mother-of-pearl lining, or even a hermit crab, trying to find a more luxurious home. But, one shouldn’t expect striped cabanas, complete with beach side service, nor should one expect an easy hike down to the shore. Rustic elegance is the easiest term to describe the majority of Maine beach.

However, one of the great joys of walking along the beach in Maine is discovering beautiful pieces of Sea Glass. Like finely polished gems, these pieces can found nearly everywhere on the shore. Cast off from bottles from merchant vessels, from pleasure daysailors, from tourist trips or from fishing boats, from picnickers or just carelessness, these bits of glass bottles break up in the powerful surf and become mere bits of their former size and shape. When one finds a piece of sea glass, it's akin to finding a piece of gold....with the exception that no two pieces are alike. Some pieces are are very small, others still retain a curve of the bottle they once were. Polished over and over by the combination of salt water waves, sand, gravel and time in the right conditions, bits of rubbish turn into magnificent, light catching gems.

When my children were younger, finding sea glass was the primary mission for any adventure to the beach. Given that we live only a few hundred yards from the ocean, we amassed quite a collection on our adventures. We made stepping stones, containing these glittering jewels, we made jewelry, but most of all, we simply collected it...allowing it to fill a clear glass bowl with every muted color of the sea glass rainbow. We made up fantastical stories about particularly interesting pieces; how the deep blue glass was thrown off a luxury yacht in Bermuda, by people who were running from the law and needed to lighten up their boat to make a hasty escape. We imagined the green glass to be off a fishing boat, that hailed from Halifax, Nova Scotia, where the fishermen were brave and dropped the bottle during a mighty and powerful storm. The clear glass became, to us, an image of a brother and a sister, just like my own, whose lunch bags fell overboard on their way home from a picnic on the islands just off shore...and how badly those children felt losing their bottles, but had hoped that when the bottles turned up, on the other side of Penobscot Bay, they'd be found by nice people.

The fact is, most of these bits of glass probably don't carry the romance we imbued them to have. Yet, the transformation from something as ordinary as a beer bottle into something so exquisite is far too dramatic to attribute to blind luck...at least for us. And yet, the metaphor regarding the creation of sea glass is too close to my own heart to dismiss. Sea glass is something that was once ordinary, common place and even garbage to be dumped. But, through the slow, painstaking refining process of salt, sand, waves, gravely ocean bottoms, tides and other natural forces, tranforms from waste to wonder. Isn't it fascinating that nature itself can take something so unsightly as a Budweiser bottle, and allow it rematerialize, miles away, as something beautiful? How often in our lives, do we, ourselves, feel that that Budweiser bottle, before its journey under the sea? We can feel useless, or empty or of little value. We can feel old, or tired, or past our prime. We may feel unwanted, unloved or rejected. We can feel the deep pit of anxiety, worry and frustration in our lives.

Yet, it's these very situations, these very feelings, that polish us. The sadness, the grief, the loneliness and the feelings of uncertainty that can provide the salt water, the gravely sea bottom, the waves, the tidal forces and the sand to work on our souls...to sandpaper away all the waste, the top layer of superficial concerns and the unnecessary priorties in our lives. The jewels of our spirits that are left behind, throughout the whole painstaking polishing process may be very different than what we started out as. We may find that our selfishness gives way to giving, that our anxiety gives way to patience and that our grief turns into empathy. The refining, the polishing, the rubbing off of dirt is not an easy process. It can be heart breaking and life upending. But, it can also be heart building and life affirming, as well. What we will be left with will, undoubtedly, be far more beautiful than the empty vessels we began our journey with.

So, during your next walk on the beach, take time to look down and see if you can spot some sea glass. More importantly, see if you can look within your own heart to find where you have already been polished.

This Little Light of Mine...

When my teenagers were little, we had Raffi tapes in our car playing every single time we rode anywhere longer than 5 minutes away. For readers unfamiliar with Raffi, he was the ROCK STAR to the under 5 year old set from the late 1980's to the new millennium. When my son was 2, he would pick up his grandfather's ukulele and pretend to be singing "Baby Beluga", and was very serious about putting on concerts. Raffi's songs were always fun, sometimes silly, and surprisingly catchy, especially for sleep deprived parents with two children under the age of 3. We were able to drive from Maine to Boston, Vermont, New Hampshire, Rhode Island and New York, melt down free. As long as they could sing, and wiggly dance in their car seats, we considered it a successful trip. To this day, I can sing every word to "Over in the Meadow", "The More We Together" and "Mr. Sun"...with an automatic reflex to turn around and hand out small cups of dry Cheerios and Goldfish crackers.


But, one of the children's favorites on our tape was "This Little Light of Mine". Although not a Raffi original, this has always been one of my favorite spiritual songs. Sweet in its simplicity, "This Little Light of Mine" crosses all boundaries of religion, beliefs and race. Although not written during the time of slavery, "This Little Light of Mine" became an anthem of the Civil Rights Movement in the mid-1900's. The refrain is:

This little light of mine,
I'm gonna let it shine.
This little light of mine,
I'm gonna to let it shine.
This little light of mine,
I'm gonna let it shine,
Let it shine! Let it shine! Let it shine!


"Letting our light shine" is a common theme in many religious and cultural traditions. In Christianity, it can be equated with the Holy Spirit's shining within us in love and peace. In Buddhism, it can signify enlightenment. Judaism denotes light in many ways: from Chanukah's festival of lights to the recent, magnificent Celebration of the Sun. According to Hindu tradition, shining our inner light "is seen to be permeating all of existence, the universal substance of all form, inner and outer, pure consciousness". Light cuts across boundaries, and literally shines upon the pure, the lovely and the truth. In 1st John in the New Testament, the apostle speaks of "walking as children in the light". What a beautiful image that is! Letting our own prejudices and areas of discomfort aside, to simply walk in divine light, allowing it to shine upon us, and within us, wherever we go is an exceptional vision. Imagine if we could live our lives, always allowing that light to shine...both inside and out! Love, joy, peace, compassion, childlike fun, friendliness and every positive attribute can shine over us, and from us, at all times!

The next stanza of "This Little Light of Mine" contains the repeating phrase, "Don't let anyone blow it out! I'm gonna let it shine!". While the tune is still bouncy and catchy, the words are far more serious. How often in life do we allow our circumstances to "blow our light out"? When we are tired, overworked, stressed, anxious, heartbroken, betrayed, burdened or grief-stricken, it's awfully hard to keep that light shining. When another person snaps at us, criticizes us or speaks ill of us to others, our light can dim to the point of being blown out. We find ourselves depleted. Our spark may be extinguished out in one massive blow, or it could take many little 'puffs' of disappointment, hurt and negativity. But, somehow, that light shining within us is just as gone.

So, what can be do when our light has blown out? We can light it ourselves. We don't have to wait for another person's affirmation to light it. We don't need the approval of those who broke our hearts in the first place. We can find ways that feed our spirits on our own. Everyone has different ways to keep their light shining. For me, my wonderful Episcopal church helps kindle my light every week, as well as my Yoga practice, reading good books and playing with my animals. My friends are exceptional too...even though I only have a few friends living in my local area now, keeping in touch with those precious to me, always adds a spark of love to my day. I have one friend who has told me that her long runs and gardening are her 'medicine' to keeping her "light" going. Another finds that taking classes in the evening on completely random subjects that interest her (from sewing to book groups to Thai cooking classes) keeps her spark kindled by learning new things.

As a wife and a mother to teenagers, I'm often the light provider. I need my own ways of recharging my emotional and spiritual "batteries" to be there for my family. It's a bit like that old commercial in which the mother is sick, lying in bed with a horrible cold, and the family is all standing around, staring at her, perplexed, and saying "What do we do? Mommy always takes care of us?" All too often, we put ourselves last on the list for 'building up'. We support our partners, our co-workers, our children, our parents, our extended families and our friends. We shine our light by smiling, helping, loving, listening, laughing, praying and genuinely 'being there' for others. This is a wonderful piece of who we are, and we shouldn't stop ourselves from expressing this light. Yet, unless we remember to put "oil in the lamp", we will be without the light for everyone.


Find the light that works best for you and bask in it. Allow it to fill you up, and shine from your heart. Don't let anyone blow it out...you're going to let it shine. Let it shine. Let it shine. Let it shine.