Sunday, November 29, 2009

Miracles, Healing, Wholeness and Light


My daughter May who posts over at Roll Up The Rugs is in a recovery program and last night Mr. Moon and I went to the meeting where she was celebrating two years of sobriety.
Now, if you read May's blog you know that she is quite open about this whole sobriety thing. And if you haven't read May's blog, get your ass over there RIGHT THIS SECOND AND DO IT! I am saying to you- DO IT! Her writing kicks my butt and kicks the butt of anyone I know who is writing on this whole damn internet and she's funny and she's honest and she's incredible.

But I digress. Sort of.

When we went to the celebration last year, I was nervous as a cat. What if there were people there I knew? Would May tell really personal stories about the times before she got sober? Would I be recruited in the the cult of sobriety?
Well, the answers were yes, no, and no.

But I learned a lot from that meeting and I wrote about what one man said which was that a feeling is just a feeling and I have remembered that for an entire year.

Last night I was not as nervous. Mr. Moon and I were a bit early so we swung by and picked up coffees for him and me and May and we went to where the meeting was and May came out to find us just as we walked up and led us to our seats in the dark-paneled room with the fluorescent lights and the place was packed. Black folks, white folks, gay folks, straight folks, old folks, young folks, young folks who looked old and old folks who had the merry dancing eyes of children. One woman came in crying, obviously hating "having" to be there and she was greeted and by the end of the meeting she had quit crying and had been hugged and held by another woman, and even if she wasn't happy, I could tell she was a little bit more at peace and I wondered about how all these people had felt, walking into this room the first time. Or another room like it somewhere else.

It was a birthday meeting and there were people celebrating one year of sobriety, two, four, thirteen, twenty-eight, and one, the man who had said the "feeling is just a feeling" thing last year was celebrating thirty years of sobriety. Thirty years! When he got up to speak, I was happy, thinking that I would get to see him again, wondering what he would give me this year to take home. And he talked about how he tries very, very hard to be "in the moment," which is very difficult for him. But then he said that really, you can't write the script, yesterday is done, and a few more things along that order, which are sort of cliches, albeit true. But then he said, "I start to worry and then I think, 'I have a roof over my head. I always have. And it's always been a nice roof. I've never lived in a dump and the only time I don't eat three meals a day is when I don't want to and really, what else is there?''

Well, of course there is more but basically, he's right. And he also said that this moment is perfect. Everyone who was supposed to be there was and I'm sure he was right and I thought about the crying lady. I thought about myself and how I needed to hear these words of serenity.
I was grateful to him for sharing his gratefulness, his experience of living thirty years meaningfully, thoughtfully, soberly, trying to be in the moment.

When May spoke, she was like a shining beacon and when she came back to her seat we held each other and I could not have been more proud of her if she'd hung the moon her very own self or gotten a job as the head of Green Peace or found a cure for cancer. I have watched the way she's changed in the last few years, facing problems head-on and dealing with them quietly and sensibly, not borrowing trouble, not going all drama-queen with them, but figuring things out.

Mr. Moon put his arm around me and her both, and I thought about this, too- how incredibly fortunate I am to have found and married this man who loves my children so much that there is nothing he would not do for them. I had thought perhaps to beg off going to that meeting last night. I had had a horrible day and was so low, so down. But he'd been the one to say, "We're going to support our girl," and he did and he wore a white shirt and jeans and his boots and I wore my silver and we all sat right there together, this girl who didn't become his girl until she was four or five and she calls him Daddy and he calls her our girl.

After the meeting quite a few people came up to tell us how wonderful our daughter is and we agreed. We've always known that. It was heartbreaking when we could see her losing her light, traveling down paths that were so dark they leached that light almost out of her, but never really could because that's how filled with it she is.
And here she is back again, glowing and luminous and she wanted us to be there and thank god (God?) we were.

There is much talk of God in that room where people go to get sober and stay that way and as we all know, I have such a problem with that God concept and in my heart, it is each and every one of those people's own powers, own strengths that they draw upon for what they need but they can call it whatever they want and besides that, they have the group and the powers and strengths and arms and smiles of each and every person there, which is God to me, if anything is.

What May said was that the people in the group had told her from the very beginning that they would love her until she learned to love herself. And that they had.

And I suppose in a perfect world, I, as her mother, could have done that but don't we all doubt the love of those of us who HAVE to love us? Our mothers, our fathers, our siblings, our spouses? I mean we don't doubt that love, exactly, but we think it's just there because of that family bond. And so sometimes we have to find a group of strangers who will love us only and exactly for who we are, as fucked up and imperfect as we may be because we all are. Each and every one of us and that's just the facts.

And I wanted to kiss and hold each one of those people in that room and say a thank-you to everyone of them who has loved May into loving herself. I guess that's what happens at the end when everyone circles up and holds hands. They say the Lord's Prayer but I was saying a different prayer, giving thanks for the people praying.
Giving thanks for them loving my May, which is not a hard job to do at all, believe me.
I wonder if by the time we go back for her fifth, tenth, whatever celebration of her sobriety, she will know how easy it to love her. For each moment in time that she lives, she is worthy of love and that she gives love by her very presence. A light-filled love that she gives to the entire planet as she merely walks from her house to the New Leaf, as she walks across the restaurant where she works to serve a table, where she sits on my porch on her birthday or on any day of her life.

Her one precious wonderful life which she is making full use of, every day.

Each day is a sort of anniversary of our lives. Each moment.

Some moments have so much meaning that they must be recognized and celebrated.
Last night was one of those and it was one of the best celebrations I've ever attended.

Happy Birthday, May. Two years of sober life. What an accomplishment! I am so grateful you are here with us, shining your light on us, that strong, holy light that comes from your eyes, your soul, your heart. That shoots off your fingertips and into our hearts when you hug us.

I love you, baby.
Thank-you for asking us to come celebrate again last night. Thank-you for giving us reason.
Thank-you for teaching me, being a conduit to knowledge.

The guy who introduced May last night to speak said that he first noticed her because she was "a pretty white girl who was friendly and who, when she walked into a room, everyone's eyes went to her."

Yep. He's right. And she's ours to love. And she is learning to love herself. And as all of this happens, she grows more beautiful, more light-filled.

And that was how my day ended yesterday. The one that started out so poorly. And again I understand that a feeling is just a feeling and that really, it is best to live in the moment, to try and accept the light and love that is always present, even when we can't see it, can't feel it.

That's what I went to sleep with last night, knowing that and holding it close to my heart, that man who loves my girl beside me.

And I woke today in light and the doors are open again, my heart is open again.

Thank-you, May. I love you. And I thank and love all those people in that room last night because they are the village that is helping to raise my child, not because they have to, but because they want to.
They have no idea but they are part of my blessings, my many, many blessings on this light-filled day in Lloyd, Florida, November 29th, 2009, which for so many reasons is a day of celebration, not the least of which is that I know it.

31 comments:

  1. This made me bawl, eps the part with Mr Moon. Lovely. Yay for May and the room full of people. It sure ain't easy. You two look so much alike, really beautiful, great loving photo and of course your writing too.
    PS you're right about May's blog. She's so wise and fun!

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  2. That was beautiful, Mama.

    May has always been a magnificent light, and it's so hard not to want to reflect that light right on back when you are with her. She's absolutely everything you said, and more, and I'm so proud of her for all that she has done and all that she does.

    I will always remember the time that I completely busted up my knees and I only wanted my May to fix them up because she always knows how to comfort me. She is such a healing sister, and I'm just so happy she is my own to love and to look up to.

    Anyway, I'm glad that you and Daddy went to the birthday celebration and are feeling good this morning from the leftover emotions of last night.

    Love you.

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  3. Doesn't it always seem that those who are most luminescent don't realize it?

    May is an amazing writer, and from what I know from you, an amazing woman. Congratulations to May, and to you.

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  4. In an Al Anon room years ago, a kind older gentleman got up and told us this. And I think of it every single time I feel like I might be going under: "I have been around a lot longer than you young people. And the thing I know that you don't is this: It came to pass, it did not come to stay."

    And I haven't figured out the whole cosmic thing. I know we're not alone. I know it in the way I am unable to see the wind, but feel it on my skin, watch it move trees. Lately, I feel it inside. That powerful, luminous thing you see in May. "And God created man in his own image." Maybe we've known it all along.

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  5. 2 years ..thats a big step...

    this universe is so small...i just got an email about a piece which is acceptet by a magazine..and this whiole thing is about some other kind of soberiety...its a small universe hm may? congrats anyway..one has to have abrave heart to come so far...:-) and again thank you ms moon for a little look in your wonderfull life...

    http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pcLT_QY_iwg

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  6. As usual you wrote this with so much insight and layers of emotion that it touched me deeply. Congratulations to May and all survivors of life as we know it.

    Thank you, Glimmer, for this: "It came to pass, it did not come to stay." I need to make a sign with that on it.

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  7. Congratulations to Miss Maybelle, whom I adore as well. Hell, I adore your whole damn family ;)

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  8. Bethany- My life is so amazing to me. I can't bear it sometimes and it makes me scared because how can it be this blessed?

    HoneyLuna- Aren't we lucky she's our star? I love you, you shining girl. BTW, David D. told me you were an ANGEL!

    Nicol- Yes, she is.

    Ginger- Agreed on the luminescence thing. Completely.

    Glimmer- And that's what I love about this blog. We teach each other and we remind each other. Thank you for that man's message.

    Danielle- She has the heart of a lion.
    And I am so glad you are feeling better and BACK here in our little world.

    Joy- We all need to make a sign of that, don't we?

    SJ- She is certainly worth adoring.

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  9. By the way, that picture of you and May are so precious.

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  10. It sounds like May has much to teach. Congratulations, May :)

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  11. Ms Moon,

    I'm happy you heard the words you needed to hear. There are such great insights, wisdom, tender hearts and tender mercies in those rooms. I miss them.

    Congratulations May! You inspire me at every turn.
    xoxo pf

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  12. What a beautiful tribute to the love between a mother and her daughter. How blessed you are to have each other, and offer encouragement and acceptance.
    Here via Maggie May's lovely blog.

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  13. There's something about those rooms that is very moving indeed...

    I love (again) that pict of Ms. Moon and Miss Maybelle

    same-same

    amazing

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  14. Two years is amazing. Both of my parents are in recovery and that, well, wow, two years is just incredible.

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  15. Same-same indeed.

    I'm so glad the light is back, Ms. Moon.

    And having someone else love you? I think that's why therapy worked for me so well. Not so much what I said, but that for years on end, a lovely woman would make the time to listen to me for an hour. How could I be so terrible then? (I know she was paid for it, but still, it healed.)

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  16. I am SO proud of her with you Ms. Moon. I was in AA from age 17 until 30 sober as a judge and it was absolutely what I needed. She is lucky to have you two for parents and you are lucky to have your girl.

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  17. Congrats to May on 2 years, and congrats to you for being a strong and loving support, and not an enabler.
    Huge accomplishment on both your parts!

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  18. I don't know May.I've never gotten to hug her, or listen to her stories, but I love her in a way that is wholly soul sister. And reading your post just now I cried real tears for her pain and joy and light. And, not even knowing her, I am unbelievably proud; bursting at the seams joyful for her life and success.You are the matriarch of one amazing family.

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  19. That was just wonderful to read. Thank you. And congratulations to May. And to you in the husband you have.

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  20. Mama- I haven't been online all day, and so I just read this... It was so wonderful last night. I am the luckiest girl in the world - to have you and our family and more second chances than anyone deserves. I was so proud to have you and Daddy by my side last night. Your unconditional love for me was one of the things that helped me walk into those rooms, theirs was what helped me stay. I love you, Mama. Life is big, isn't it? I just love you, just love you and love you.

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  21. May- Read all these comments and find more reason to love yourself. Another village to help raise us all. You are more to me than I can say.
    I love you.

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  22. Happy B-day May, looking at that photo I see you in your dear Mother and your Mother in you. We do not hold a light of our own but we reflect others on the path of life.
    We are radiant beings because we love and because we are loved in return. And you are loved, just to see the pride in your Mother's words, the love in Mr Moon's actions if someone were to ask me to define love I will simply point to that.

    And you my dearest Ms Moon, have earned every single love expression whether it comes from your family, your chickens or the members of the Church of the Batshit Crazy. I speak as a Deaconess of the Church so I know what I am talking about. May is lovable because she has learned what true love means. We should all be so lucky to have someone like you and Mr Moon at our back.

    I love you and respect you more than these words can say, and if your children are wonderful human beings in their own rights, it is because the apples never fall far from the tree.

    PS: we both thank you for the candle and for the love.

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  23. Ms. Moon this is gorgeous -- and reading through the comments is euphoric! Congratulations to your May and I've said it before on her blog that she's an amazing writer and I wished she wrote more that I could read! Thanks for sharing all this love...

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  24. I love May, too! And I love Mr. Moon for saying such beautiful things about her. And for being there for her.

    Who could not love, May? I goddamn dare anyone not to.

    It's impossible.

    Love you, too, my dear friend.

    SB

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  25. Well, I imagine you know already what I am going to say, or have an idea-and I am glad you went, for many, many reasons. Hugs to all of you.

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  26. soaking up my tears with kleenex. ms. moon, there is so much love. you and your family are so inspiring.

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  27. Happy post-Thanksgiving and I wanted to say that you are an incredible mother. The picture of you two is fantastic.

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  28. Happy 2 year anniversary, Miss Maybelle.
    My son has 11 + years of clean time (AA and NA) and still attends meetings regularly.
    It's so nice that you both this - gained sobriety when you were relatively young.

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  29. Thank you for this outpouring of self and support and love today.

    May - you GO girl, keep rocking your light and love and self. I am so very happy for you!

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  30. What a beautiful post. And what a phenomenal family. As a newcomer I am overcome with the warmth of y'alls love.

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  31. May is fortunate, as are you and Mr. Moon. Yes he is. For all he has given you and your children, he's received back love and caring beyond price. It all flows in a circle.

    Uplifting to read about May finding herself and her way. I hope many more years for her walk in sanity.

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