A Mother’s Reflection

Slam!

Stomp, stomp, stomp.

Smack!

Slam!

It was Friday night at my house and my 12-year-old son, Noah, was pissed. He wanted to stay up late, yet I could see the red inflamed rings under his eyes.

“You take the fun out of everything!” he screamed, tears welling up in his tired eyes.

“If you want to look at it that way, then, okay. I am still not changing my mind,” I said, calmly. I am not always even-tempered when he gets upset but this night, I was.

He buried himself under the sheets in the other room and began to process.

As I laid with my youngest son, a realization flooded over me.

Noah was exactly like I was when I was a preteen. A very spirited, opinionated and stubborn child, I was often labeled as too sensitive. When I was high, I could almost touch the sky. But when I was low, I made sure everyone within close proximity knew it. And many times, the people around me didn’t know how to handle my emotions and were overwhelmed when I expressed them with such passion.

This led to me locking myself in my room for hours on end, trying to figure myself out without having any guidance. The only way I knew how to move through it was to numb the feelings.

It took me over twenty years to really accept myself and my sensitivity. Through diving into a spiritual path of self-inquiry and self-acknowledgement, I learned that my ability to sense, deeply and fully was a quality that catapulted me on a path guiding people on their healing journey. I also learned that my passion and fire was what made me continually move forward when I wanted to stop and hide. It was the important ingredient to a life guided by inspiration. And that inspiration led me to several different successful careers and adventures beyond my wildest dreams.

As I lay in bed, stroking my youngest son’s head, tears began to form. These were tears of gratitude for Noah and his reflection of me. A minute later, the door quietly opened, and my fiery, passionate AND hugely lovable Noah walked over to me with his own tears and fell into my arms.

“You remind me so much of me,” I told him. “And your passion will serve you one day. I’m certain of it.”

“I know, Mom. I know. I love you so much.”

“I want you to express yourself to me. And I will always love and accept you,” I said as I rubbed the place behind his heart.

We embraced, sniffles and smiles uniting us. In that moment, we both felt heard, understood and acknowledged for exactly who we are — nothing more, nothing less. And THAT is the most precious gift we could give each other.