Peace Corps Jubilee...

I refused to say “good-bye”. Instead I said “see ya later” as I hugged her so tight I could feel her ribs and breasts. I kissed the soft skin of her neck over and over taking in her smell.

“You are precious” I whispered.

“See ya later” felt a bit easier than “good-bye” somehow. Yet the awareness that life, mine and hers, are not our own does not escape my notice. We are Held by Divine, but there is never a guarantee of MY will or HERS. Only what is or what will be.

The Great Unfolding.

The tears began about a week before she left. Up until that time I was able to tuck the knowledge of her upcoming long absence into a corner of my mind. It did attempt to spew out once in a while, like the forced pressure on a tube of lotion in an airline bag. I knew that if I allowed the cap to unscrew, even just a bit all would be lost.

I was in my first Circle Processing session at my Living School Symposium when the cap was finally removed. I was in a safe place with safe people. Tears flowed freely all morning and into the afternoon. Cleansing and saturating, the image of a glass being poured into and overflowing water streaming onto the table captured my mind. Down, down, down the water fell always flowing. And somehow there was also absorption, as if my Soul had been bone dry.

I had a sense of feeling overwhelmed and saturated.

I allowed it all. The feelings. The tears. No attempt to hide it. No embarrassment. Not even the use of Kleenex, which tends to say “stop crying”.

By that evening, I was refreshed. Laughing. Resting. Sitting in Silence. I was ready to release her.

Our last night together before I said “see you later”, she played her piano. We sat together on the couch, soaking in her melodies of longing, watching with hungry eyes how she moved and swayed, how her fingers curled and danced upon the keys.

My son saw my tears, fresh again and said “This is the longest any of your children will have ever been gone before mom”.

I nodded my head up and down in acknowledgment because my throat was voiceless. I nodded my head up and down remembering the mom’s I know whose children are absent from this Earth. I am privileged.

When she finished playing, she sat with her siblings and they began to cry together in a cuddle pile on the couch and their father and I held them with our hearts.

Today, her room is empty and clean after I energetically wielded the vacuum into every nook and cranny. It awaits a young women who will move in soon. She is not blood, but she is like another daughter. At least this room will be occupied again and not stand alone and empty.

I am proud of my Jubilee, for her desire to make Peace in the world. I admire her ability to adapt to various cultures and people groups, for her nonjudgemental heart, her tender touch, her curious eyes and her willingness to live simply.

The Peace Corps mission is to promote world peace and friendship.

What better way to do this than to share my Jubilee with the world!

Siblings cuddle puddle…