Susan J. McFarland

Wednesday, July 29, 2015

Mother of Change

Mother of Change

Black cats can evoke fear and superstition in certain individuals. Ancient Egypt regarded the black cat, Bastet or Bast as a deity. She protected the home and assisted with motherhood, a goddess of fertility. I have such a cat in my home. Her name is Licorice, as in black licorice, she likes to lick. As her ancient relative did thousands of years ago, she too is a protector of all things feminine.

A regal lady with a hunter’s heart, she prowls the yard in search of frogs, At times she wanders far, in pursuit of prey. Such was the case, when she did not come home one night. Typically, when I call her she runs to the back door within minutes. Frantic, I went to bed with her outside in the woods.

Morning came and still no Licorice. I called, I searched and I contacted my friend, who connects with animals. Licorice was fine, “Hunting,” she said. The day passed and she did not return. Sensing she was near, my friend suggested rubbing the scent of her sister on an old cloth and leaving a trail to help her find the way home. The girls and I rode bikes to her possible location. We dropped torn cloth back to our home.

She spent another night alone, out in the forest, no food or water. Morning came and she was not at the door. I called her name and prepared myself for more searching. Within minutes she returned. Relieved, I held her tight. We snuggled throughout the day. The next day she was ready for a new adventure. I was not.

Licorice is a teenager. She wants to be independent, yet she still needs her momma, not only for food and water, but for snuggles and lap time. My kids are a reflection of her and her sister, Pearl, both “teenagers”. As a woman, I understand the importance of independence and adventure. As I mother, I struggle with allowing my “kids,” all of them, to be independent and adventurous.

If they don’t need me, then what is my purpose? My purpose was re-defined when they arrived at our home, through birth and adoption. Leaving the corporate world, pursuing dreams and adapting to being a “stay at home” mom has not been easy. As I accept the fact that they are changing, I too need to be in a state of constant change. Being a “mother of change” is the only stability I have.

Wednesday, June 10, 2015

A Path of Hope

A Path of Hope

Milestones such as graduations or transitions to new beginnings need to be celebrated. Seven years ago, an orphan with little hope for a prosperous future, became a beloved daughter. Seven years later, she graduates from elementary school, a beautiful young lady.

The road is never easy. The path is bumpy and rough. There were tears of sorrow and pain. You left for kindergarten, not knowing if you would see me again. I saw it on your face. You spoke little English. You were brave, on a bus, alone. I was scared, you were scared. I followed the bus and met you at the door. We walked together hand in hand to the class room. Nervous and anxious, I cried all day.

You moved on to the next year of kindergarten, two years, all day, everyday. It was intense. You were challenged, learning colors and letters, in the beginning. From a native language, to Spanish, to English, you communicated your needs. We struggled. You held your teacher at the end of the year, not wanting to let go. I held you.

First grade, another school and reading words was your next goal. You, the new kid, different, set apart. You made a friend, who struggled with language too. Another friend, from your old school, helped you feel welcome. You were branching out beyond your mother, growing. Day after day, night after night, you studied, learned and mastered the new language. Dedicated, you worked hard. It wasn’t easy.

Second grade brought a supportive and nurturing teacher, who cried with me, talking about your progress. She had hope. I had hope. You were our hope. Extra help was needed. I fought for your success matching your determination. Together, we could do it.

Third grade, a split in your room, friends moved to another class. It was difficult, but you managed, again. More support was needed, a girlfriend and a teacher, all in one. Caring about reading and caring about you, together you prospered. You worked hard, gaining progress, step by little step.

Fourth grade, a male leading the class for the first time, you called him a “boy teacher”. Split again from your core friends, you bonded with others. Learning who you were and how strong you are, you excelled. Drama, tears, and hugs, we made it through. Talks about safety and protection, boys and friends began a new journey. Pierced ears and text messages, opened your world. I was scared. You were confident.

Fifth grade, back together as a group, with a teacher you adored. You mastered language, writing and speaking. Kumon assisted your math skills, as did your hard work, nightly. Between books and friends, you knew who you were and stayed true to yourself. I was proud. You were growing.

As you finish your last day in elementary school, I write this to remember and reflect on the years gone by, and take a moment to celebrate you. As I did, the first day of kindergarten, I cried all day.

With love,

Mom

Monday, June 1, 2015

Lighten Your Load

Lighten Your Load

We all carry a heavy load, whether it is internally or externally. When I travel, I pack my favorite backpack. It is orange. It holds all the essentials I need for easy access. If I fly on a plane, it is by my side. Like a friend, waiting for a conversation, it’s comforting to know it’s there.

In a dream, I forgot my precious pack. I panicked. This bag, which I wear over my shoulder, or on my back, represents my inner self, always there. When traveling this journey of life, it is a steady companion. Forgetting it, is forgetting a part of me. My inner being has everything I might desire for this trip. At any point, I can extract one item or another. If wanted, I can even re-purpose the pack, and use it in different situations during the trip.

At times, the backpack or our interior world can be overloaded. Stuffed with physical items, or even mental and emotional baggage. When this happens the time comes for an overhaul or a cleansing. Assess what is absolutely vital. Release and bless the “travel gear” no longer useful. Your trip will be easier and freer.