The words that make the rose bloom were also said to me.
The words told to the cypress to make it grow strong and straight,
The instructions whispered to the jasmine,
And whatever was said to the sugarcane to make it sweet,
And to the pomegranate flowers to make them blush,
The same thing is being said to me.
Rumi, shamelessly taken from Anne Lamott’s Facebook page today.
When I started this blog, I pledged to come up with something like a prayer every Sunday morning. Here it is, Sunday at nearly 10:30 pm, and I’m doing a cut-and-paste from Facebook.
But that’s typical for me this type of year. My children are on a frenetic schedule of parties and sugar, and there’s no sign of things slowing down until Christmas. Cookie parties, gingerbread house parties, Santa-showing-up parties, Breakfast with Santa parties, Grinch parties, ice skating parties, pajama parties, gift-exchange parties. I’m thrilled to see them so busy and happy, but I’m exhausted and finding myself getting crankier and crankier and sometimes even a little bit snarky about the excesses of the season where I live.
I’m beginning to see what life is like after divorce. It seems exactly like life before divorce, which is good, just with more difficult logistics, which is hard.
But as for Rumi, how lovely. Typically I read a poem like this and think of my children. Lamott reminds us all to think of ourselves too. All too often we save our most beautiful thoughts and dreams for our children. But as Rumi reminds us, The same thing is being said to us.
I needed this reminder today.