The Poetry of Heaven

Some times
the way you smile at me
is heaven singing
poetry to my heart
and I have enough sense
to stop what I am doing
and kiss this holy ground.

Lisa A. McCrohan, ©2010

I wrote this poem shortly after our daughter was born.  Her smile made/makes my heart melt.  She has this presence that is filled with delight.  Her eyes are mesmerizing.  Her presence has opened up a place within me of enchantment.   She has opened my heart to hear heaven singing poetry all around me — in the eyes of my clients sitting across from me sharing their story, in the smile of other children who come to our house to play, in the sacred kindness exchanged between moms, and even to see the divine signing poetry through me.

Before my daughter or son were born, I remember searching for a meditation/yoga/spiritual teacher.  I prayed about it.  I had studied with a few teachers, but we had recently moved to a new town and I felt lost without a community, without a sacred connection to a teacher who I could be around on a regular basis.  I didn’t find that teacher.  Then my first child was born – and my teacher appeared.

Over the years, my children have been my greatest teachers.

~  They challenge me, see me, love me purely and in the moment, bring up all my old crap, cut to the truth, and stretch me every day.

~  Our relationship brings to the light all the shameful parts of me so I can heal them and see my goodness.

~  Our daily interactions make me dig deep to find the patience of Jesus, Buddha, and Mother Theresa (some times their combined patience!) just about every day — patience with my own self.

~  Their “in the moment” minds and hearts teach me how to forgive, let go, and begin again.

~  Our tenderness is healing balm for old wounds.

~  Our days are a daily practice of letting go and bringing compassion and mindfulness to the present moment.

~  The love I have for my children is a well that fills their bodies, psyches, hearts and that they will draw from when I am here no longer.

~  The sacrifices I’ve freely made – of sleep, self, career, body, heart, mind, social – have taught me about what so many religious texts have in common:  this giving over of self, this letting go of self, this offering of one’s whole self SO THAT the Divine (or whatever name you have for the “something” bigger than our egos) moves through us.  Much of my daily “work” is “getting out of the Divine’s way”, of realizing *I* can’t do it, of softening, of creating space for Love to move through me.

As moms, we are the “everyday poetry” of the Divine:

~  Our “everyday loving” and being loved is heaven singing poetry through us.

~  Our offering of self and seeing the other is heaven singing poetry of compassion through us.

~  Our struggles and our “holy crap! I can’t handle one more minute of this!” is heaven singing poetry of lament through us.

~  Our forgiving and our letting go is heaven singing poetry of redemption through us.

~  Our tenderness with our own selves, the spaciousness we give for us to be fully human, is heaven singing poetry of liberation through us.

Truly, every day we are standing on holy ground and we are “everyday poetry.”  We are the Divine’s eyes, hands, feet, words and presence for our children.