On Friday, we invoke the muse of motherhood to shine her light of inspiration upon.
Sometimes wisdom is slow to seep through. :) It is Saturday already! Thinking back to when I was stewing over the Wisdom Card’s passage and trying to dream up the ‘right’ image, a friend handed me the children’s book, The Flower of Sheba. It is the story of the Queen of Sheba’s journey to see King Solomon. During their visit, Sheba put Solomon through tests to see if he was indeed “the wisest man in the world”. Her artists created a thousand flowers out of paper, silk and glass and touched each with sweet perfume. Among them, she hid one real flower and asked Solomon to find the true blossom. It was a challenge for even him — until he opened a window. A bee buzzed in, and Solomon bowed to the teeny creature and then followed it until the bee found the rose and sipped its nectar. But wisdom is an ongoing journey, which is why I painted Sheba entranced with the bee and flower while on the long caravan ride across the desert.
There has been nothing quite as humbling and challenging as being a mother, and it is comforting to know I don’t have to have all the answers. I watch other mamas, ask my mom and elders to share stories of their younger parenting years, and on a daily basis, I observe Tulsi — because many answers to my questions are in the watching. When Tulsi was born, she was air-lifted 3 hours away to a hospital with a NICU. One of her nurses said something wise to my husband and me when we were on edge from all the machines beeping and alarming. “Don’t watch the machines,” he said. “Just pay attention to her. If she is breathing steady and has a peaceful look on her rose-colored face, she is fine.” As simple as this sounds, it helped us relax a lot. On days when I wonder if my daughter is happy or if we are doing and providing ‘enough’ for her, I stop and pay attention to her and let go of comparing our family to others.
What does her face look like? Warm, sun-kissed, smudged with dirt and disguised with a yogurt mustache. And her smile could make anyone in the world feel happy.
How about her breathing? She pants like a dog as she is lost in a self-inspired project, cutting, gluing, taping, and running back and forth from the garden collecting sage leaves, oregano flowers, and poppy seeds for a cake she is baking in her oven, all the while serenading the world in that wildly sweet 3 year old way.
Yup, she’s fine. We’re fine. And I feel content knowing that on days when she’s ‘not’ fine, I can read her –just as King Solomon studied the tiny bee– and follow her lead as to what she needs.