Yesterday was my birthday. 11/11/11. Double nickles, to boot. News flash!! Breakfast is now cheaper for me at Perkins! I think that ought to be switched around to give new parents the financial break instead of 55 and uppers. At least that is what my husband and I used to covet when our kids were young. As the big day approached, I kept thinking, this is pretty darn special, right? I usually get all excited when I randomly look at the clock and it says 11:11. I know. It IS something you want to take a moment to soak up. So, yesterday I set the alarm on my phone for 11:11 on 11/11/11. Magical (at least if you take a moment and conjure up magical feelings.) The hard part of my day was that we helped my mom move from assisted living into the nursing home. She had had a stroke and heart attack 1.5 weeks ago. Her left hand, arm and leg were useless. By day two she was walking a ways down the hall and could lift her left arm up high enough to comb her hair. Miraculous, really. Yet, it was time. I felt torn between grieving the loss of her freedom, and feeling relieved that she was safe and secure. So my birth day held an underlying grief and sadness, like the slow, steady bowing of a deep cello note. My mother, though, is the kind of person who takes in the reality of what life deals her, and then finds the good in it. She is the queen of letting go. And in letting go, there is freedom and peace. As she used to say, "Put in on the shelf, and let God take care of it." I studied with watercolorist, Cheng Kee Chee, about 10 years ago and he had that same message, "Let go of your need to control everything." In letting go, all kinds of beautiful things happen.
Robyn Sand Anderson