New Sight
You know those pictures that hurt your eyes, the ones that when you look at them one way they are one thing. But then you blink and they are something new entirely? Optical illusions, if you are being obvious.
I've recently stumbled across an optical illusion that has to do with my thinking and not with my sight.
It occurred to me the other day that I might just have this whole birth mother thing wrong, that I might be thinking of Carly's birth mother in totally unfair terms.
It came to me that, if things were different, we might be friends. How I arrived at this conclusion is something a friend of mine recently called 'girl logic.' I was thinking of something sort of distantly related and then BOOM!
Epiphany. Quandary. Shift.
There was a story on the radio about a mom that agreed to be the surrogate for her daughter. The short of it is that her daughter could not have children and so the mom carried and gave birth to her own twin grandchildren. I was thinking about what a great sacrifice and risk that is. Not only are you putting your body up for this transformative process, but your soul and mind. Once that baby, or babies as the case may be, starts moving and responding and being the abstract concept becomes a real person. And, in many cases, a surrogate mom can't help but love that little soul she is so anxiously engaged in protecting. I am fairly sure that being a surrogate is not something I would be able to do without a really really REALLY good reason.
And yet, isn't that exactly what Carly's birth mother did for me?
Holy cow.
If, like me, you believe in a pre-earth life and you also believe you knew and loved your family there then it follows that I knew Carly's birth mother. No matter how I jostle their relationship around, my mind latches on to the idea that Carly's birth mother was my friend. She agreed to give me one of the most sacrificial, great gifts a woman can give another. She agreed to carry my child.
Perhaps we were strangers there. Perhaps the great plan of happiness made a provision for a total stranger who would make a mistake and need an out. There are a million ways it could be.
It is not that I have been or acted ungrateful to Carly's birth mother. I freely admit that I am not always kind or charitable in my musings on her choices and circumstances. But given the chance, I could never express my gratitude in a coherent way. I could never put into words the wonder I feel each day when this smiling, fantastic star that she made possible beams up at me from my own arms.
Thinking of this woman - this stranger near but so far - as my friend changes things for me. It complicates and simplifies things at the same time, it changes the picture.
Maybe the optical illusion falls away and I get a glimpse of the true sight with which a loving Heavenly Father views us all.
I've recently stumbled across an optical illusion that has to do with my thinking and not with my sight.
It occurred to me the other day that I might just have this whole birth mother thing wrong, that I might be thinking of Carly's birth mother in totally unfair terms.
It came to me that, if things were different, we might be friends. How I arrived at this conclusion is something a friend of mine recently called 'girl logic.' I was thinking of something sort of distantly related and then BOOM!
Epiphany. Quandary. Shift.
There was a story on the radio about a mom that agreed to be the surrogate for her daughter. The short of it is that her daughter could not have children and so the mom carried and gave birth to her own twin grandchildren. I was thinking about what a great sacrifice and risk that is. Not only are you putting your body up for this transformative process, but your soul and mind. Once that baby, or babies as the case may be, starts moving and responding and being the abstract concept becomes a real person. And, in many cases, a surrogate mom can't help but love that little soul she is so anxiously engaged in protecting. I am fairly sure that being a surrogate is not something I would be able to do without a really really REALLY good reason.
And yet, isn't that exactly what Carly's birth mother did for me?
Holy cow.
If, like me, you believe in a pre-earth life and you also believe you knew and loved your family there then it follows that I knew Carly's birth mother. No matter how I jostle their relationship around, my mind latches on to the idea that Carly's birth mother was my friend. She agreed to give me one of the most sacrificial, great gifts a woman can give another. She agreed to carry my child.
Perhaps we were strangers there. Perhaps the great plan of happiness made a provision for a total stranger who would make a mistake and need an out. There are a million ways it could be.
It is not that I have been or acted ungrateful to Carly's birth mother. I freely admit that I am not always kind or charitable in my musings on her choices and circumstances. But given the chance, I could never express my gratitude in a coherent way. I could never put into words the wonder I feel each day when this smiling, fantastic star that she made possible beams up at me from my own arms.
Thinking of this woman - this stranger near but so far - as my friend changes things for me. It complicates and simplifies things at the same time, it changes the picture.
Maybe the optical illusion falls away and I get a glimpse of the true sight with which a loving Heavenly Father views us all.
Epiphany. Quandary. Shift.
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