This weekend is not a cure-all. Getting away for two nights is not going to change anyone's life dramatically. But, it might be the subtle shift that starts a healing process. Getting to meet other women who have walked a similar road might provide a glimpse into a brighter future. Someone may hear one phrase that creates a spark of hope. Another person may find a friend that they can call to share the good, the bad, and definitely the ugly.
This year was different for me personally. I found myself on the edge of things more; listening with an aching heart to stories of pain, despair, and disillusionment. I also overheard riotous laughter, quiet sounds of empathy, and sometimes, just a silence that wrapped people like a warm hug. I was much more emotional than I expected to be. I often had tears threatening to spill over for a number of reasons. I ached for those who have felt alone; I wept for losses and gains, hopes and fears; my own strong emotions came to the surface as I listened in awe to women who work so hard for the children they love.
I love that this place we've all created together is a place of non-judgment. People napped without guilt, went for solitary or group walks, sat and read books, talked and talked some more, danced!, and maybe ate a little bit.
For me, the food was really important. I know I cooked too much, but I had motives behind my menus. First, I needed to make sure that every Mama had something she could eat. So, I needed a variety of choices. Second, I wanted to make sure that I had nurturing, fresh food as much as possible. That also helped out with reason three, which is I wanted to make sure I could have lots of fellowship in the kitchen. Chopping, cutting, stirring, etc., small groups of women had another chance to chat.
Sure, we could have probably thrown a bunch of pizzas in the oven and called it dinner, but I wanted to feed the souls as well as the bodies. The anticipation from the posted menus, the aroma of carrot cake wafting through the house, the pretty layers of the torta rustica, the extra touches for the morning coffee: these were all thought to bring small moments of pleasure and happiness. And, to be honest, feeding people well also totally feeds my own soul. I'm happy when I can make people feel good through the gifts I bring to the table.
As I drove away from the house, I found myself not quite ready to believe it was done for another year already. Like last year, I am not able to process it all right away. Little pieces pop up when I least expect them to. Small moments are working their way to my heart as I think about conversations I had with different women. I will always remember my conversation about gratitude with one mom; I chose to start living that way immediately and I've already felt the change in myself.
I loved seeing small groups of women chatting quietly on the deck, in the hottub, or in one of the living rooms. I cherished hearing peals of laughter from around the wine tasting table. My heart still has the echo of hurt from hearing some painful stories. And, I am so grateful to be able to measure the growth in my own family by what I said and felt last year to what I said and felt this year.
And - that's a wrap! MA13 in the planning stages already. :-)
Teresa
