Peace Says Meet Me Halfway
Bulletproof School-buses, Bio-hazard Gear or Birthing Our Braver Next Self
Who is She?
I would like to turn off all news channels, go hiking on this lovely day before my birthday. I would like to erase from memory that image of a river of blood which one of the witnesses of the Paris massacre described seeing from the window of his apartment.
But She is pleading with me to hear her.
And I know exactly how She feels.
She tells me through all She has given me that She loves and cares for me.
So I can’t just go up the mountain today and turn my back on Her.
Who is She?
She is Peace Herself as I imagine Her.
What does She say?
Left alone after the crowds have dispersed; kneeling over the blood-stained cobblestones,
She is waiting for me to speak up for Her. She tells me how grateful She is for all I’ve done so far but, She implores:
Look, honey, I need you to step it up a bit before it’s too late. Julia, my darling girl, She says, don’t wait till that river of blood runs through your backyard.
I know how She feels because, you see, the one Orphan hidden in the deepest recesses of my secret Self is the one who’s been waiting for someone to speak up for her, the same way Peace has been waiting for me and you to rally on Her behalf.
Such a perfect assignment
And wouldn’t you know, Life, that master trainer has gifted me with the perfect job to help that wailing child grow up.
In the Fertile Heart Ovum Practice we learn that our inner Orphans can’t grow up without being seen and heard. Often, they need to be seen and heard over and over and over again until the emerging Visionary can actually take a few steps out of the Orphanage.
Life in its astonishing wisdom has recruited me to an assignment in which that Orphan is perpetually lured out of hiding.
If I were a baker or candle stick maker, people would have no trouble commenting on Facebook about my spectacular candles and cakes.
But to say a word or two after the hours we have spent, digging for the golden nugget of truth, that’s an entirely different story.
“Shame factor infertility” is perhaps the most insidious of all fertility challenges. Which means that 99 our of a 100 moms are ashamed to acknowledge our relationship. So the gist of literally thousands of thank you notes I received over the years:
“This work changed my life……..My baby wouldn’t be here…..If there is anything I can do, let me k now…..The only thing I can’t do is share my story, because, you see, not even my best friends know know that I went through this. They don’t know that…xyz….”
Orphans in the romper room, yours and mine
Oh how wonderful, says my wise Visionary grown up Self watching the Orphans head for the romper room.
But our Orphans don’t grow up left behind in the romper room.
And we don’t get to be born into our braver Selves by staying safely tucked in in our comfort zone.
Nor do we grow up in a vacuum.
Our Visionaries are born through engaging with each other, hearing each other in a sacred space we co-create that ignites life in myriad forms.
The Visionary is born through revealing our fragile Selves to one another; through relationships with people who support us in living our way into a brand new, unfamiliar reality.
How lucky I am to have been assigned such a perfect job.
To be offered a chance to hear that small speechless child over and over again as she grows into the Mama who knows that she is now grown up enough not only to speak up for herself and her work, but for everything else she believes in.
How lucky to be offered a chance to grow into an adult who also knows that the less she needs outspoken allies, the more readily they will appear at her doorstep.
An adult who can keep her commitment to gratefully show up at her work station and welcome all who knock on the door of this schoolhouse.
How lucky I am to be challenged by the Master Teacher to keep growing into an adult who can let the Orphans loose in the romper room and then bow, bow, bow to what is.
The tug of desire
An adult who bows to what is and then dares to respond to the tug of desire to be born into a braver version of herself. To keep asking for more without demanding it; to keep asking for what she needs from a centered, generous place.
Because if we don’t learn how to speak up and ask for what we need, there is little hope that someone will read our mind.
If Peace doesn’t show us that She will lose the battle without us, how will we know to join the ranks of peace makers?
Unless I tell you, you may never learn—that posting a comment on one of my Facebook posts, acknowledging the value of this work—can be healing for both of us. It can help me heal that unseen, unheard kid hiding in the orphanage, and it may reduce the harmful effect of “shame factor infertility” on you, your child, and anyone else suffering from the same affliction.
Who will speak up for them?
Unless we respond to the invitation that comes with each individual and collective crisis—the invitation to show up as we have not shown up before—bulletproof school-buses and bio hazard gear will not guard our grandchildren from the consequences of our denial.
May the memory of those who perished in Paris and victims of ongoing violence grow into a blessing of a peace movement; a movement joined by millions of people who might otherwise have remained on the sidelines.
Happy birthday to each of us who dare to heed the call of our next unborn Self.
How is this challenge a perfect assignment for you? Which unseen Orphan is it luring out of the orphanage? What does she need to take a step into a new reality?