At around three years old children start to express (without encouragement) feelings of love for their caregivers. At the time of writing my daughter is four and randomly she turns to me and says “Daddy,” “yes” I say, “I love you!” Oh my word my heart skips a beat! What a joy, what a blessing!
Our relationships with our caregivers directly influences how we choose to be open to giving our heart to others. I remember specifically when I first ‘fell in love’ with a girl. I was elated, floating on air, with little awareness of the potential pitfalls that awaited me.
One day, when I was eleven, in the days before cell phones, I rang her house and asked her mother if I could speak to her. Her name was Amanda. She came on the phone and I said, “Hi Amanda, I Love You!” And then I hung up instantly in embarrassment. Phew it was done, I’d expressed myself, my heart sang its truth and for a brief moment I felt released and enlivened with a hopeful future.
Within the hour I received a call from Amanda. “I hate you!” And she hung up. I was crushed, confused, and shattered. Tears poured out of my being and I didn’t know where to go. I was at my mother’s home at the time (my parents had separated when I was four). My relationship with my mother was not usually a cuddly one, although there was deep caring from my mother, she never had time for anything less than an emergency. I remember staggering into the lounge where my mother was busy reading. She saw me in pain and without missing a beat and to my amazement, put down her task and opened her arms to hug me. I collapsed even deeper into my heartbreak.
I wept hard. I felt my mother’s presence fully with me. Rarely had I ever felt that before. My mother was always busy, always working, always managing the environment. Something I’m sure she felt her five kids were antecedent to. The last time I remembered feeling such compassion from her was when I stood outside dripping in blood, having rounded a corner into a plank of wood at a building site.
As I laid with her and told her what happened, she stayed with me, not trying to stop my tears, simply witnessing with her loving presence my pain. I don’t remember exactly what she said to me, all I remember is my heart felt held and loved unconditionally. Still to this day I remember that kindly event as one of my fondest loving memories. My heart was met by a love that transcended time and space, a mother’s love, consistent and strong , always present in the background of every screaming complaint. My heartache turned to gold. Love offered and love returned. What more could someone ask for than this eternal love? I was already loved, I am already loved. I no longer needed to validate my emotions with another’s returned. I am free to love more wildly without the fear that could have grown had my wound not been cleaned as it was. Thank you, mum!
