Looking back and forward

Just a few years ago, I was hoping - dreaming, really - that I could go to an adoptive moms' retreat being held in Florida. There was one space left, which tempted me with its sense of fate. However, with a dose of reality, I realized that it would be a huge amount of time and money for me to travel that far just to get some support. I had already been blessed with the support of a number of regular attendees at our monthly coffee group, where we adoptive and pre-adoptive parents compared notes, supported one another, and grieved or celebrated depending on the circumstance.

Looking around at these people who had become so vital, so deeply necessary to me, I realized that I didn't need to travel across the country. I just needed to continue to build the community already in evidence.

So, with some trepidation, I built our first Moms Away. It was more than I could have ever hoped for. It was a weekend, beyond even any other since, that healed the broken pieces of my heart. It was that weekend together that I realized the strength in community and in sharing one's journey with another whose own journey has a similar trajectory.

I had been similarly gifted with other women in my life at just the moments I seem to need them, whether or not I knew that I did. Women who arrived with their wisdom or joy or shared sorrow; women who felt on a cellular level the same things I did. This isn't to say that there weren't men in my life who were important; it is just to say that these women - these soul sisters, really - were themselves a gift in my life.

Since that first Moms Away, I have organized and run three other weekends. Each has been important to me. Part of this is that occasionally I get to glimpse another woman get just exactly the support she needs. Those moments when I see small groups or pairs talking quietly together or a larger group laughing uproariously on the deck - those moments are like starbursts. These are moments that are little flashes of light that keep a bit of the dark at bay.

And, if I'm really lucky, I get to carry those feelings from one year to the next. I always question whether or not I really want to do all the work to organize and run yet another weekend. And, just as certain as the fact that I question it, is the fact that someone will remind me that somewhere there is a mom who needs us as much as I did that first year. And, so, on we go.

If you are reading this, if someone sent you this post or you found it late one night while looking for some support, perhaps you are that person who needs Moms Away 2015.  To find out about registration, click on this post or contact Teresa at tmkisil at gmail dot com.

Until then, remember this...

“Courage doesn’t always roar. Sometimes courage is the quiet voice at the end of the day saying, “I will try again tomorrow.” - Mary Anne Radmacher