SOUL MAIL Sunday: Come See My Window
Welcome once again to SOUL MAIL Sunday. This week I found myself returning to a question from last week's message: What is love asking you to do now?
Then several questions from the movie Moana began following me:
Her grandmother asks: Do you know who you are?
Maui the shapeshifter asks: Who are you gonna be?
And Moana asks herself: What lies beyond? And she wonders when and how does she decide to leave what she knows and loves and follow her calling? Many of us may have asked these questions during those big transitions in our lives.
And another question arose for me: Why are you becoming?
These questions seemed especially appropriate this week as I prepared for Grandparents Day and my community Art Table beneath the great Magnolia tree at our farmers market. I came up with this OWL project for the Art Table to speak to the children and grandparents about wisdom on this holiday.
My artist friend Kathy gifted me this painted owl rock during the COVID pandemic. On the back it says:“Be Whoo You Are.” It made me smile, but this week I realized that it was also asking a serious question. How do we become who we truly are? And who helps us along the way?
My answer began with a little girl I met more than 45 years ago. In my first job as an occupational therapist, I met Mona when she was only ten years old. Almost two years ago, after many decades had passed, I searched for her and we reconnected. We discovered that we had both become mothers, grandmothers and book writers. Her first children’s book is entitled The ME I came here to be. I am chosing to read it for the celebration of Grandparents Day at my twin grandsons preschool class coming up next week. There is nothing like a true story!
This week Mona celebrated another birthday with her granddaughter. Looking at the two of them together reminded me that becoming who we are is never just an individual journey. I’m grateful for all the people I have met throughout my life who chose to rise above their challenges, and become more of who they came here to be! We are shaped by the people who come before us, the people who walk beside us, and the people who come after us. But we don't have to carry everything forward. We inherit beautiful things—and painful things.
I have been thinking about this in relation to my own family history: the music and rhythm passed down through my paternal grandfather; the artistic creativity and appreciation of beauty from my paternal grandmother; the love of gardening and the healing peace of nature from my maternal grandfather, and the wisdom of healthy eating from the garden and natural methods of caring for the home from my maternal grandmother. These are things I consciously choose to carry forward. I have also had to face painful family patterns and beliefs that did not serve us well and often left us with scars that were hard to heal. I do not want to carry them into another generation. They are things I consciously choose to release and transform.
Perhaps part of becoming who we are is learning to ask:
What do I want to carry forward?
What do I need to release?
And what do I want to create anew?
And then nature began answering those questions in its own language.
A tree fell near my home this week. My son and I have both been facing the loss of trees in our neighborhoods. This has happened in the past as well, like when hurricane Wilma knocked over a huge palm tree next to our Florida home in 2005.
Dragonfly and Fallen Tree
Then, on my way to pick up my grandson, I encountered another messenger—a huge dragonfly on the side of his house. The dragonfly has been appearing in my life for weeks now, reminding me of transformation, adaptability and movement.
And then, while playing tennis with my grandson, he discovered a tiny caterpillar moving quickly across the court. He was fascinated by how much movement could come from such tiny legs.
I began to realize that I wasn't simply noticing insects and trees. I was watching life teach me about becoming. The caterpillar becomes something else. The dragonfly adapts and moves. The tree falls and life continues. And the Magnolia tree at our farmers market follows its own beautiful seasonal rhythm.
Farmers Market Magnolia tree and its blossoms and cone-shaped fruit with bright red berries
A few months ago, this tree was covered with huge white blossoms that felt almost like satin. Now those blossoms have become cone-like fruit filled with bright red berries that will eventually become seeds.
The children who come to my Art Table know this tree as an old friend. They dance beneath it to the music of the market. They look up into its branches with wonder. Sometimes they courageously climb upward to see the world from another perspective.
And we can also teach them that this beautiful elder is a living being deserving of care and respect. Perhaps that is part of what grandparents do. We help children look upward. We share what we have learned. We provide a place where they can feel safe enough to explore. And we teach them that becoming themselves does not mean becoming disconnected from everything around them.
Yesterday, I had another opportunity to experience this with my grandson. We played tennis and probably hit about 175 balls. During a water break, our conversation wandered into something he had witnessed in a classmate at school toward the teacher. We talked about anger, behavior, respect and the difference between wanting to have power and knowing how to use it.
I met his teacher this week during his school’s lunch celebration of Grandparents Day. I pointed out to him that his teacher, who is small in stature, has a strong presence and a college degree. Then I showed him a photograph of Mona and told him about her four college degrees, even though she has lived with significant physical challenges like his teacher. It became one of those unexpected teaching moments that grandparents are given.
And I thought: We are always modeling how to be, act and respond to life. Children are watching us become. They are watching what we do with anger. They are watching how we treat people who are different from us. They are watching how we respond when life knocks us down. They are watching whether our boundaries become walls—or create a safe space in which love and freedom can grow.
That brings me back to two SOUL MAIL messages that have been speaking to me during these past weeks: Come See My Window - AND – Stand Tall in the Face of All that Comes to You.
Come See My Window was speaking the loudest for today. It reminds us: Your fear is only one part of a greater loving story. And I think that may be part of what becoming is. We don't get to choose everything that happens to us. We don't get to choose every family pattern we inherit. We don't get to prevent every storm, every loss, every scar or every challenge. But we do have choices about what we do with what we have been given.
We can become more loving.
More courageous.
More curious.
More forgiving.
More creative.
More capable of setting healthy boundaries.
More willing to listen to the quiet voice within us.
And perhaps we can help the next generation do the same.
The Magnolia doesn't stop being a Magnolia because its flowers fall.
The tree that falls can still nourish new growth.
The caterpillar doesn't know exactly what it will become, but it keeps moving.
The dragonfly doesn't stay in one form forever.
And we, too, never stop choosing who we are.
Perhaps the deeper question is not simply:
Who are you?
Or even:
Who are you gonna be?
Perhaps it is:
Why are you becoming?
What are you becoming for?
What are you carrying forward?
What are you releasing?
And what new life might become possible because of the choices you make today?
Today's SOUL MAIL message, Come See My Window, reminds me that I am becoming part of a greater loving story. You may view the SOUL MAIL image and read or listen to the poetic message below.
Perhaps we never really finish becoming. Perhaps we simply keep choosing—
and loving—
and learning—
and growing—
until the story we are creating becomes part of the story carried forward by those who come after us.
