Easter, Hope, and Living...

My family celebrated Easter, there were eggs to be dyed and found, baskets to be enjoyed, and being in church or out in nature.  As a family we attended multiple churches, all had their own feel, and community we are still in touch with today.  There was a church in Flagstaff we attended for a few years and to this day we still are in touch with the pastor's wife (20+ years later).  My parents and I would sing at the Episcopal/Lutheran church in Williams because the woman we took lessons with attended the church and this was a way to have a 'recital'.  There were many years that Easter meant a hike, skiing, or adventuring in some way out in nature.  In the last few years there was a pilgrimage to Phoenix to join my grandma and aunt in attending their church.  There was always excitement of hearing the music, hunting eggs (when we were younger) and enjoying friends and family.  I have to admit, my favorite Easter's are not in church.   My favorite Easters have been out in Nature.

I am so grateful for my parents and their deep faith, they would share what Easter meant to them, what having faith 'looked' like to them.  Mom shared with us that to her Easter meant that we could have hope.  There was this horrible chain of events and on Easter morning, hope was born.  I don't know that I felt the magnitude of her story until adulthood.  Only when I was weathering storms could I fully embrace the thought that there may be hope.  Dad shared with us that by being good neighbors, by treating people with dignity even if we didn't think they deserved it, helped us understand what Christ-like meant, we can't be the judge, we don't know what someone is going through or what pain they may be in.  These are the gifts that lead me through life, to have hope, to be kind, and to be curious!  The lesson that both Mom and Dad instilled in us happened when we were in nature.  They gifted us the idea that we are all One, the Earth, the plants, animals, water, sky, Sun, and neighbors, we are ALL ONE.  They taught us how to make moments sacred, to ask for permission to enter spaces, and to witness life happening all around.  I think that is why those nature Easters mean so much to me.  

There was no surprise that the urge to visit the Grand Canyon came up this weekend.  I have been nervous about packing Liam, with his feeding pump, tubes, health, etc., I have let there be excuse after excuse of why the time wasn't right to dip off the edge of the Canyon.  Well, now was the time!  We packed water, food, formula, the feeding pump, diapers, sunscreen, and off we went.  There was a loose goal in mind, Cedar Ridge, on the South Kaibab trail, 1 1/2 miles.  I type that and giggle, 1 1/2 miles, what!?!?  That is a walk in the park, anywhere else!  In the Canyon, that is 1 1/2 miles straight down and 1 1/2 miles straight up.  The seduction of the downhill is almost overpowering, thank goodness for the many years of hiking the trail, I knew not to get sucked in.

The hike out was okay, the temperature was rising, and Liam's weight was tiring.  By the last few switchbacks, I could tell, I was getting done.  Sean was so supportive, I think he knew how important getting to carry Liam in and out was to me, he let me set the pace and checked in.  At the last few switchbacks, he checked in and for some reason, I heard the request differently.  What I heard was more like a declaration, "Here, give Liam to me."  I obeyed, and thank goodness feeling 20+ pounds lighter I could finally breathe, I didn't realize how tired I was!  I always have to laugh, 1/2 hour after touching the rim coming out, I am restored and ready to go, this weekend was no different!  I have hope to make the next Canyon hike down to Indian Gardens. 

Liam is growing so fast and changing everyday!  Thursday he made his first free handed steps to the couch.  He is problem solving and finding ways to maneuver things...and people so he can get where he wants.  To blow off steam he makes a loop in the living room with a pink chair as his guide.  He is learning a new 'face', he got tired of winking, so now he has an exaggerated blink.  On the trail he kept one hand out so he could wave at all the hikers we passed.  I only knew he had fallen asleep because people stopped saying hello.  He is gaining more babble words, when Sean is home the two of them can go on for what seems likes hours!  With me, he is quieter, we think because he has had so many experiences of being with me in groups of people, he has associated me with quiet.  He is still attempting to eat, frozen food, milk, or juice are his favorite.  I can't wait until next year when Liam may be more interested dying eggs, finding them, and more aware of what is happening around him.  

I am caught off guard in the moments I miss my mom so much and her vacancy is felt so acutely.  I have a beautiful hand made vile with ashes of my mom, she came to the Canyon with us this weekend.  In the moments I miss her the most, there she is helping me to remember to turn to Hope. She was there nudging me up the trail with her grandson on my back.  I am sad she won't get to hike Liam in the Canyon, and yet I know, she will be there every time he goes in.   Just like she was there with me as I picked out 'healthy' chocolate for Sean for his Easter basket and will be there next year for Liam's basket.  She will be with us next year as I get ready to teach Liam how to dye eggs and remembering all the ways she decorated eggs, there were so many I will have a hard time choosing what is first!  She is here every time I need encouragement reminding me that Easter, and Christ are all about Hope.  Through the stories we share about her, she lives on, what a gift.

This little light of mine...

This weekend Sean, Liam, and I went up to the Grand Canyon.  We knew we wanted to do something to help remember my mom and the place that just seems to be 'Mom' is the Grand Canyon.  She hiked the canyon more times than I can count.  She would go down to Indian Gardens, hike to Phantom Ranch, go Rim to Rim, and maybe down just a mile or two.  Sometimes she would hike with friends, Dad, us kids, and sometimes she would hike alone.  As we walked the South Rim Trail, I had this realization, she never was alone up there, she would make a 'friend' on the trail, on the rim, on the shuttle bus, in a lobby.  I don't remember a time when she didn't meet a 'friend'.  And sometimes this 'friend' would be a furry friend, scaled friend, or even a feather friend.  No matter what, I don't really ever think she was alone up at the Canyon.

We packed up the car mid-day after a morning of me teaching and headed North.  In Williams we needed a pit stop and decided a candle might be a nice gesture for whatever heart ceremony we were about to facilitate.  We stopped at the local grocery store and I went hunting for a candle.  A long time friend of the family recognized Liam and in that moment I realized that Liam and Mom are similar, they are known.  They love most everyone and most everyone loves them.  They make friends wherever they go.  Another long time friend hollered out and we were able to share a quick hug, a hug I didn't realize I needed until it was exchanged.  Though Williams will never be home again, there is a need that this tiny little town fills and all the people hold a special place in my heart.

We continued up to the Rim, arriving early evening.  The temperature was cold and the sky grey, but there was a familiar warmth that surrounded me and gave me strength.   The last time I was up at the Canyon with Mom was right after Christmas 2015.  She was getting weaker and almost didn't get out of the car.  I think Andrew and Dad coaxed her out into the wheelchair and we toured around the Mather Point Visitor Center.  When we got to the Village, there was something amiss with Mom.  She wasn't looking at the Canyon, this place she would get so giddy about, this view that she didn't capture on paper because no painting could share the depth of her love for this place.  And here she was, unable to walk the Rim trail, unable to even speak loud enough for us to hear sometimes, or make sense of the words she shared.   I guess I knew that Mom was not going to 'beat' cancer that day at the Canyon.  I just didn't realize that I would be saying goodbye in 2 short weeks.

Saturday we went back into the Park, back to Mather Point and this time we bundled Liam up and we walked the Rim trail. We found a place to let Mom's light shine once again on the Rim.  We were able to celebrate, to grieve,  and to honor Mom all while being at the rim of this glorious landscape that Arizona is known for, a landscape I think the whole family has a special relationship with.

There is something so unique when a person passes.  I had the honor of sitting with a friend in 2011 as she transitioned.  I got the call from a mutual friend, asking for me to come.  When I got to our friend, she was breathing irregularly and seemed anxious.  We were bodywork buddies so I went straight to work with Bowenwork moves that I imagined would help calm her system.  The moves worked, she was able to slow her breath and her body relaxed.  We called another friend to come, when she arrived the two of us would alternate doing Bowenwork moves and holding our friend's hand.  As our friend started to lose consciousness she asked for specific Bowenwork moves at specific times.  Finally she relaxed into her journey state, we continued to do Bowenwork here and there if she would get agitated again.  I went into a meditation state and started to sense the subtler needs, the unfinished business.  This friend had a son who was able to make the trip up to say good-bye and there was some healing that could be done.  I started to do PSYCH-K® with her and him, and with each balance, my friend seemed to relax a little more, journey just a little deeper.  And yet, she wasn't able to fully go.  By then, there were just 4 of us in the room, my friend, her son, the Bowenwork friend, and myself.  The Bowenwork friend was whispering to go to the light, to relax and let the light take her.  What I got in the meditation was different, what I got was this; my friend was at a closed door, the door was backlit.  She was already at the light, but she couldn't get the door opened, then it hit me, SHE was the key, she had to let go of her body to open the door.   In an unspoken way I shared that with my friend, I got the sense that she got it, her body was present but something shifted in the room, she was gone.  There wasn't any room for me to rest, it was 1:30am and I was to work in the morning, so I kissed my friend and took my leave.  I got home and at 2:15am got the news that she had passed at 1:43am.  Even now, 6 years later, I feel the magic in that night, and the connection I felt with my friend as she found her way.  Death doesn't scare me anymore, now there is magic, strength, and peace.

I am so grateful I had this experience before Mom's passing, because I wasn't able to be with her when she passed.  I had made the choice to come home get some affairs in order and then head back up until the time came to come back home.  As Liam and I were traveling to Williams, she took her last breaths.  I am so grateful she and I had mended anything that needed mending and she got to spend time cuddling and reading to Liam, because today, the sadness is just that I don't get to hug my mom.  I know I can talk to her, I have dreams about her, and she lives in the stories her loved ones share about her.  So as we leave the darkest part of the year, I am grateful there is a light in honor of my mom flickering on.  Thank you for sharing in the celebration of her life.