Beautiful Crown

Isaiah 61:3 “

…to bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of joy instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair” 

Sometimes I have dreams. Most of the time they are silly;exaggerated solutions to a stressful day. Occasionally they have meaning. These visions are mostly for myself, but other times the dream is  for a different person. When the latter circumstance appears, the images are vivid as I feel like I am watching a scene from someone else's life.

 Years ago my first encounter with counseling was serendipitously with a Jungian psychologist. Carl Jung was a pioneer in the field of the subconscious and dreams. While I parted ways with the psychologist not long after our few sessions,our personalities did not mesh, I remain in gratitude for the materials and references she provided for me. In summary, from my study, I have surmissed that depth and Jungian psychology are involved in how the mind seeks to heal itself.  Similar to how many unseen armies bring platelets, white blood cells and fibrin to a physical wound, dreams, visions and subconsciousness,congregate to heal the wounds of the mind.  

 Last week I had one of my most unusual dreams! It lasted almost the whole night and I woke up seemingly exhausted. I had been chasing my BFF, Lauralee through buildings, across bridges, even down slides. Stuck in an "Alice in Wonderland World", where not only space, but often size changed, I worried perhaps this was just another side effect of the lingering effects from a mini-stroke last year. In the chance it was not, I reached out to Lauralee the next day!

"Laur, how the heck are you?"

"Great! How are you? Before I get started about me, please tell me about your level of "dizziness".

Thinking she was referring to my vestibular symptoms following my stroke, I laughed and said, "Well, the dizziness waxes and wanes. I ran into a pole on my bike, I got botox, and in a couple of weeks I get to wear EEG cables for three days".

"OH, that sounds like your level of "busy "which is the word I said,  not "dizzy" rivals mine".

We burst into hysterics, often the underlying theme to most of our conversations,  and proceeded to talk for two hours ! Sometimes, we laughed. Sometimes we cried. Often we did both as we caught up on each other's lives.

I told her about my hours long dream of chasing her.

"You are not going to believe this, Laur, but in my dream you were not only "busy", but you were pregnant! With this pregnancy you had decided to go without the epidural cuz I was chasing you all around! You were almost ready to enter the second stage of labor and start pushing. I knew you weren't quite ready so I had to keep following you from place to place to beg you to slow down.  Many years ago, I learned that a pregnancy means "something new". I could not wait to see what you were up to !!!"

"How strange! I had a similar dream about myself. I wasn't pregnant, but I was running around from activity to activity.  One time I was even on a swing! The dream was important because it had been talked about in my patriarchal blessing. That I was to be involved in a project sometime and a dream would be provided when the time was right for me to proceed in that capacity."

We were incredulous as we realized whatever "important " event lay ahead of her, we had both been provided with a similar dream! Always a fan of mystery and puzzles, our dreams had literally stumped, yet delighted us! 

As we discussed the real "busy" she was meeting in her everyday life, it became apparent she literally was running activity to activity sometimes winding up in an exhausted heap in her bed. She was teaching full-time, taking two upper-level courses, preparing for a son's wedding, toying with the idea of developing a pod-cast, and preparing a speech for her nomination As Mother of the year in Utah.  

 As we threw the ball of "solution" back and forth in regards to both our lives, it became apparent that most solutions were to come slowly and in time,but they would come. I decided after that phone call that Lauralee "grounds me" and brings me back to earth, much more able to meet my challenges!!!

We hung up our phones renewed, and yet still intrigued. "Why would we both have dreams about her running around? " "What was my part in her project?" "Was I  the backboard for her to bounce ideas off?" I knew when I had dreams like this before  it had always been for my benefit and learning.  However, at that  point I could not figure how the random nature of our dreams were supposed to intersect. 

Until...

Last night.

She finally shared with me her speech for Mother of the Year. She had texted me the morning of her speech to ask if she could share it with me. She was worried she would cry and that her emotion would distract from the meaning of her speech. Unfortunately I had lost my phone and had not found it until 10 minutes before she was supposed to give her speech! I texted her that maybe that had happened on purpose, cuz now all I could do was pray for her in the "moment". I told her I had a strong testimony of praying for people in the moment. I contacted all my girls and even my mom as we all prayed for Lauralee during her speech. Even as I did this, I was slightly puzzled. In this world there are certainly lots of words. There are certainly lots of speeches, what made this one important? My family did not question, but simply prayed for "Lauralee" in her moment. Later she texted she had given a beautiful speech and was able to articulate her thoughts in a clear way! I didn't ask to hear or see the speech at that time, not knowing if she needed me to hear it yet, or if my prayers had been sufficient for her.

Then last night, as I was reading a book, a page lept out at me. I sent her a screen shot of the page.

    

And the following text:

"Have an amazing Thanksgiving! Reading a book called, "A Walk In My Shoes", by Ben Schilaty. Got to the part where he said he heard on a podcast more of us need to tell our stories. I want you to know I love your story. Every bit of it. Every moment. I am still trying to figure out what my dream about you meant. So many parts of any podcast you choose will be spectacular...but in someway, your story should be included. Maybe in pieces, maybe in part, but always include part of your story. I think it's important. "

After that, she shared with me her speech:

"Coley, this is the speech I gave for the mother award. I felt like Heavenly Father and London both helped me. I'm very proud of it. I've been wanting to share it with you.

I was 27 years old when my first child was born. My husband, Jay and I wrote in a “joy journal” as we anticipated our daughter’s birth. At our final check-up, our effervescence turned to agony when we learned our full term daughter had died. On May 30, 1996 we said both hello and goodbye.  

After her birth, many mothers, including my own and my mother-in-law stepped in close and strengthened me. They brushed my hair, and bound my breasts. They swaddled me in their own arms as my grief poured out.  

Many, many women who weren’t related to me whispered, “You are not alone. I lost a child, too.” And I realized for the first time, the power of mothers - not just in their children’s lives but in the lives of each other. I looked at them, through my brand new lens of motherhood, and they were beautiful.

Eventually, Jay and I had four more children who, with their subsequent partners, have filled the chasm, carved by grief, with happiness. The vast holding space in my heart, chiseled by motherhood and notched with periods of stress, grief and pain has become a queen-size receptacle - for profound joy.  

All around me are women I admire. I can’t help loving them.

Young mothers with little broods of babies, constantly gathering, keenly watching. Still energetic when exhausted. “Watch me, mommy! Did you see that, Mommy?” Changing diapers, spreading peanut butter, 24-hour, back to back shifts. Loving recklessly. I look at them through my lens of motherhood and they are beautiful.  

Older mothers gathering grandchildren, season ticket holders to the perpetual events of their posterity; miniature athletes, budding performers, video game virtuosos. “Watch me, Grandma! Did you see that, Grandma?” Cheerleaders, curators of fridge art, car seats buckled into the back just in case. I look at them through my lens of motherhood and they are beautiful. 

I will turn 54 in January. This benchmark is significant. I will have been a mother for as long as I was not. 27 years before children, and 27 years after. If it were possible for me to unzip my skin and step out, I would be unrecognizable. Motherhood has refined what once was raw. 

In addition, motherhood has made me a superfan of other mothers. I want to strengthen them. May I help spread the peanut butter? May I admire your fridge art? May I brush your hair? “I lost a child, too.”

Each year on May 30 I quietly open a wooden box with a little lamb carved into the top. I lift out the small blanket and hat and hold them gently. I read through the joy journal. Maybe this year, I’ll add an entry. A much younger mother steps out and taps me on the shoulder. I see her clearly through my steady lens of motherhood. She is beautiful. She lifts her new lens and gazes back at me. And I, too, am beautiful."

After I read her speech, my heart jumped in my throat and I sobbed through my texted reply:

"Oh my!!!I am a blubbering idiot! I had no idea your speech was about London. It is probably good you didn't read this to me before you gave it as I would be doing what I am doing now! I would have been no help to you whatsoever, through my own tears. And the many tears I have cried for my sister and dozens of other women who have lost a child . These experiences have created tiny riverlets through the chambers of my own 💓 and made me so very tender on this subject. Last Christmas Eve was the last patient I helped with with her angel baby and we were all overcome, and yet so grateful for Christ's resurrection. Ironically, I will never forget when I saw you pregnant with London at my grandma Elaine's house just weeks before her birth. You were glowing, but it was more than that. I had never seen a pregnant woman as beautiful. And I had and have seen since so many pregnant women!!! Maybe you were surrounded by angels at that time and in the weeks following???I do not know. I just know that before you entered your "gat semane" - olive press, you had help. This knowledge has assisted me SO much when I have been called on to help other women during one of the worst moments of their lives. Thank you, thank you for your words of hope, joy, and sheer beauty in the years following your "gat semane". I needed to hear them and I think so many other people need to hear them too. Thank you for your story 💓.

My heart burst open as I finally understood why a very loving father in heaven had brought us together in the unconventional way of "dreams ". As an LD nurse for many years, my own grief surrounding infant loss runs deep. In addition,  having sisters,friends going through this had left its mark on my soul. Reading Lauralee's words about the sometimes taboo subject of infant loss, I found the part of my grieving soul that I hid. Then, I knew...the parts I kept in shadow, buried deep so I could still do my job...needed and deserved their own voice and even, release. 

And suddenly, I felt...

the crown of beauty...

too...

Isaiah 61:3 “…to bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of joy instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair”