Spiritual Things Matter

A truly great man never puts away the simplicity of a child. ~Confucius

I grew up in an orphanage and those childhood years afforded me many opportunities to imagine how it would have felt to have been a part of a more traditional type of family. Since Father’s Day is just around the corner, I would like to write about my childhood dreams of fatherhood.

As a child, when I felt afraid and alone, I would reflect upon what it would have been like to be able to sit on my father’s lap. In my mind, I could see him wiping my tears and giving me a tender kiss on the forehead, and letting me know that all is well with the world. I would imagine my father embracing me at night and wishing me a good night sleep after reading me a bed-time story. Then, I would rest peacefully knowing that my father is always there. I would wonder how my father would handle someone treating me unfairly and wanting to hurt me. In my heart, I would believe that he would be there for me always. My father would right all the wrongs, make dark days brighter, and always be able to bring me to laughter as he would play and rough-house with me. I would feel the safety and the comfort of having a strong and loving father in my life. Those were just some of the dreams I had when I was a child.

I remember one year in the orphanage, when I was about nine years old, we had a sports competition. Among the other children my own age, I had always been the fastest runner in my school as well as in my orphanage. Of course, I was proud of that fact and I poured everything I had into this competition. That year, another girl ended up winning the race, and I went off alone to sit down and cry. I remember feeling so sad mainly because no one really knew how losing that race made me feel. I also realized that I had nobody to even encourage me to try again the following year, and so I simply never entered the competition again. I can only imagine, had there been a father in my life, that situation would probably have been viewed differently. He would have talked with me about the value of character, and how moments of defeat are only opportunities to try even harder the next time, and that the triumph would then be even sweeter. I know that he would have embraced me with his strong arms and lifted me – holding me close to him, and I would perhaps even have felt his heartbeat.

Today, I am the mother of two beautiful children. As I observe their relationship with their father, it moves me beyond words. I see tender moments between them, and it touches me when I see him taking time to encourage them and to teach them the lessons that life offers. It makes me proud when he leaves work early to be a part of one of their special activities or some other performance that they have worked hard to perfect. My daughter and her Papa both love music, and I smile when I hear them play their musical instruments together. When our son decided to join the school orchestra and learn to play the cello, it was wonderful to see how much interest his Papa took in making sure that they chose just the right instrument. Both of our children will always know just how much their father loves them. They also know that their Papa is always going to be there to comfort them and to encourage them, even when things are difficult.

Fatherhood is a very special gift. The pride a father feels the very first time he holds his tiny baby in his strong arms is, to me, the most beautiful ‘poetry’ of tenderness and strength. During that special moment, he ponders all the possibilities for his child, the joys and the pains his children will experience to make them who they will become. That creates in him an enormous sense of responsibility and devotion. His determination to protect is strong, and his desire to meet their needs will be a driving force to help him stand strong even during the most difficult of times.

Fatherhood is not for the weak of heart. It takes an enormous amount of strength and effort to instill in children the love and value their father has for them. It is all too easy to see the negative side of situations, but it takes effort and far more creativity to teach children the valuable lessons that life has to offer. If a father has a willingness to teach by example and to recognize teachable moments, he will know that he has done his job and will eventually see his children mature into kind and loving people. They will honor and love him as they know for certain that they are tucked away in his large and loving heart.

I have long laid my childhood dreams of a father aside, but I am thankful that my husband fulfills them in our children.

Happy Father’s Day!

This Mother’s Day, the one person that comes to mind who has inspired me to become an even better mother is, Elisabeth Fritzl. This courageous Austrian woman has astonished so many of us with her efforts to give her children some sense of normalcy in an incredible abnormal environment. Her mother’s heart gave and kept on giving, although she only received profound sorrow and pain which lasted nearly a quarter of a century. The decorations in her tiny cellar moved me to tears as it shows so clearly that she remembered the stars and the moon which once represented her freedom. She shared that with her children, as was obvious, when her youngest child pointed to the moon and asked if God lived there. Her brokenness is severe and deep. May we wrap her and her children into our hearts and remember them in our prayers…even long after this story is no longer in the forefront.

Dear Brave Soul, Happy Mother’s Day!

Slowly emerging from all that was dark
into the light – which seems so painfully bright.
Slowly, very slowly, each step must be taken -
into freedom…..as senses are overwhelmed
by the generosity of life.

Love and life will embrace you soundly
Goodness and kindness are there to lift you up.
You are a part of our life!
You are a part of our world!
Welcoming you openly -
for love will embrace you all around.

Life with all its complexities
with all its painful sorrows and tears,
cannot be explained with our,
so very limited eyes of understanding -
for only one piece of the puzzle we see.

Yet, life remains a wondrous gift to be lived
with so much love and mysteries yet to be had.
We welcome you with all our hearts!
Embracing you with so much love!
And, with many, many tender thoughts that, now at last,
peace for you and your children will flourish -
forever…holding you securely – far above.

Thank you, oh, brave and fragile soul,
for loving your children – despite it all.
Thank you for teaching them with the little that you had.
Thank you for your astounding bravery and courage.
And thank you, oh, dear tender soul,
for having truly done your very, very best!

May the sun shine tenderly on you -
May her warmth bring healing comfort to your broken heart.
May the wind whisper his eternal truths into your ears
And may you sense his abiding strength as well as his tender mercies.
May the rain fall extra gently upon your brow.
And may each tender droplet bring new rhythm to your thoughts.
May your tears flow freely that you might feel again and begin to heal.
May life bring its beauty to you -
With generosity and with grace.
May it envelope you with new truth and new hope -
That you may find your own beauty which abides richly in you.
And, may Love embrace you and your children -
As our world cradles you firmly and tenderly in her prayers.

Happy Mother’s Day, our very dear Elisabeth!

Viola M. Jaynes
Mother’s Day 2008

I have come to realize more and more that the greatest disease and the greatest sufferings is to be unwanted, unloved, uncared for, to be shunned by everyone, to be just nobody (to no one). ~ Mother Teresa of Calcutta (1910-1997)

It has been heartbreaking to watch as the events involving the Polygamist sect unfold in Eldorado, Texas. There are many that are suffering. It is so sad to see entire family units being broken up and babies, small children, and teenagers being taken away to strange places and away from all that is familiar to them. In my opinion, it seems that the children are always the ones who end up suffering the most. As I am reading and hearing of places that are preparing for these children, one only 15 minutes from my home, I could not help but recap my own experience living in an orphanage.

Most of my readers know that I was born in Germany and raised in an orphanage until I was 14 years old. Overall, my orphanage days were good, and I am thankful that I was there instead of the abusive environment that I came into when I came to this country. However, that is only telling part of a story. Today, I would like to tell you a side of being orphaned that is less attractive and very painful. I worry about these children for that reason. Although, I must stipulate that those children who have been subjected to abuse must be removed to a safer environment right away.

Something profoundly deep happens to a human being when they are taken away from their mother at a very young age. I was between 1 and 2 years old when this happened to me. I do not mean to undermine the role of a father here, but there is a deeply nurturing relationship that takes place between the mother and the baby. The suckling of the warm and tender breast, and being held tightly to the mother’s bosom, tells the baby it is in a warm and very safe embrace. There is an unconditional love between mother and child that tends to quickly want to heal infractions and mistakes, and make a child feel safe and reassured. All these things and more are deeply comforting and reassuring for a child.

There are innumerable efforts that are made by the mother and father to make sure that the child is cared for in providing a safe and loving home. They make sure that clothes are washed, and that the child has a clean bed to lie down in. They provide nutritious meals and quality family time around the dinner table. They listen to the endless stories about school classes and attend school programs where the child can display talents and pursue opportunities nurtured by the parents. They teach their children when it is appropriate to talk, and when it is appropriate to listen to others.

Come evening time, I can only imagine that there must be nothing sweeter in the life of a child than the tender “good-night” kiss of a mother and father. The prayers of protection and grace by those parents will teach a child of something far greater than just himself. Then, being snuggled in for the night by his mother and father who deeply love him, his sleep can be deep and sound without any unnecessary cares and worries. Being a mother of two, I write from my experience as a mother as well as my experience as an orphan.

Children who have been taken away from their mothers and fathers all have one thing in common; that is, a hole in them that is difficult to repair and fill. Such a child will search for something or someone because somewhere deep inside them they knew they belonged somewhere. Finding that “place of belonging” is a very long and painful journey. There are many rejections along the way, and that child will often be very clumsy in finding that “belonging” again. These rejections only add to the greatest of all rejections, which is being taken away, for whatever reasons, from their mother and father. The slightest hint that there might be such a belonging again can often turn into an obsessive expression because they desperately fear that they will lose that warm and nurturing feeling of “home” once again. Juggling these emotions and keeping them in balance can be very embarrassing . . . and tiring. No matter how old they are, their inner self is seeking that which was lost. They become their own parent, and that can be a very difficult task.

It takes self-honesty to understand that there are nobler pursuits than feelings of neglect and feelings of sadness for one’s own losses. Many tears are shed during this process. It is important that one is kind and gentle with themselves as they grow up and heal. There is the hope that someone will come along that will be wise enough and loving enough to understand them as they are.

Children who have been rejected by their parents, or who have been taken away, will feel a sense of brokenness and inferiority. Secretly, they will often think to themselves, “Everyone seems to have it together somehow except for me. Everyone is smarter. Everyone is more gifted. Everyone has more friends. Everyone has more opportunities. Everyone can do it better. What about me? What is wrong with me? Why am I not wanted?” These are questions that will haunt many such children for the rest of their lives. The loneliness these children experience is profoundly deep and often beyond words because the unconditional love and presence of a mother and father simply is not there. The person they truly are is not the person they see in the mirror. Their judgment about themselves has become clouded and impaired. The true potential that lies within them is often never recognized. Walls of protection are built up, and it can take years before something will pierce through in order for them to finally find their “belonging” and their “home” within themselves.

I have struggled immensely in many of these areas. I am 46 years old now and with each year that passes, I sense that the struggles are, perhaps, a little less intense. I am humbled by the gifts that have been granted in other areas of my life that have enabled me to compensate for the losses. I have also been able to understand that having gone through the pain of loss has somehow brought me closer to a deeper spiritual realization. It is truly the only reality that really matters. I pray often for the grace to be able to care and love others and to worry less about myself.

I am also deeply thankful for my family. The acceptance and love I receive from them are indescribable! The innocent and very generous love from my children often astounds me and leave me in a state of awe. What a gift!

Please keep these children from Eldorado, Texas in your thoughts and in your prayers. If you are inclined to help in some small way, here and here are sites that will give you more information.

If we could see the miracle of a single flower clearly, our whole life would change. ~The Buddha

Because of his love for gardening and because I enjoy visiting his informative site, Kal has inspired me to bring some color into my own flower garden. The weather is wonderful here, the sun is warmer than usual for this time of the year, and my son and daughter were eager to help me with this endeavor.

We visited some local garden centers and carefully picked out plants and flowers that we thought would look pretty and would do well in our front and back yard. We picked out some beautiful white and pink “Red Ruffles” Azaleas. My son saw a “Sago” Palm that he liked and I knew just the right spot for it. I spotted some beautiful bright yellow “Sweet Brooms” which will add beautiful accent colors to the front yard. As a gentleman passed by me, I admired the “Pink Jasmines” he had just found and I inquired as to where they were located in the garden center. They smell luxuriously and I am hoping they will climb the trellis in the front of the house. My daughter admired a “Jane” Magnolia tree which we could not leave behind because its purple blossoms are exquisite. We then picked out smaller flowers for borders and accents.

I wanted to look at the rose section to see what kind of selections they had to offer. Both of my children were eager to give their opinion as to which name they liked best, which colors would look just right, and for my son, which one would be most practical. We settled for a “Mr. Lincoln”, a very striking white “Pristine”, and two cherry red “Knock Outs”. I was eager to add them to my already existing rose garden.

Once we arrived home, we placed our plants and flowers in the spots where we wanted them planted. As I looked around, I admired the flowers that we already have in our garden as they have bloomed this year. Two flowers that have become sentimental additions are the “Snow Bells” and the antique “Paper Whites” which my husband and mother-in-law dug up from an old property that, at one time, belonged to my husband’s great-grandparents. They sold the property over forty years ago, while they were still alive, and the property was only weeks from being developed when my husband and his mother decided to see if some of the old bulbs were still there. They were still alive, and were blooming, when they were carefully removed and replanted in our garden at home. It is so nice to see them bloom each year now and I suspect, should we ever move again, these little beauties will travel with us.

My children and I planted our garden a couple of weekends ago. My daughter helped for a while, placing borders in the appropriate places, and then decided she was missing out playing with all the little friends on our street. My son, however, wanted to see the job to the end. He stayed with me the entire time and seemed to have so much fun. We chatted about different ideas for our garden and some of the things we would eventually like to do…such as add a patio to our back yard.

I am very thankful for my children! They add such color and variations to my life, much like the garden we had just planted. Their various seasons prepare for new growth, maturity, and beauty. I tire at times of the constant motion of these “seasons” but I realize that what is brought to bloom and maturation is a miracle and a gift of God. I pray often for the wisdom to deal kindly and gently with such precious gifts.

I love what Anais Nin said: And the day came when the risk it took to remain tight inside the bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.