Brenda's Bicycles

 

The fleeting nature of time never ceases to amaze me. On the one hand, I feel as if I have lived in Cozumel for an entire lifetime; on the other, it seems as if I was barely there for an instant. Practicing “living in the moment” has a way of playing magical mind games—creating a sensation of having been through a series of time warps.

 

I find it quite difficult to believe that only three and a half weeks have passed since I returned to Cozumel following an exhausting and emotional seventeen day journey to Utah—a difficult but spiritually rewarding expedition in which I ended up saying my earthly goodbyes to both of the dear mother figures in my life. That unexpected side-trip with two funerals turned out to be a rigorous mountain bike excursion over rough and rocky terrain into new uncharted territory.

 

Tonight, I am once again back in Utah as my youngest son and his beautiful bride-to-be are anxiously counting down the final hours before the official beginning of their new life together. Tomorrow morning they will kneel facing each other over a sacred alter in a Mormon temple as they joyously unite their lives together in holy matrimony.  

 

My first two days back in Utah have so far resembled a casual bicycle ride on smoothly paved streets. But I am well aware that tomorrow’s path has the potential to be considerably more challenging.

 

Gratitude fills my heart for my incredible children. They amaze me with their character and integrity; I am thrilled to observe how they live and honor their religious and spiritual beliefs. Each has chosen to get married in a Mormon temple, in a sacred ceremony where their marriage is performed not just for this lifetime, but for all of eternity. Temple marriage in a sacred tenet of Mormon beliefs, and qualifying to marry in the temple is not an easy accomplishment. Yes, I am very proud of them.

 

My spiritual life path has guided me in a very different direction—on a path that is neither understood nor supported by the church. The hard truth is that I am not considered worthy to attend the actual wedding ceremonies of my own children. I am no longer a member of the Mormon faith, and am not allowed to pass through those temple doors.

 

The awkwardness of this difficult truth has left me vulnerable to some extremely difficult emotions over the years as I have watched (or should I say not watched) my oldest five children get married. With each wedding, I passed through varying levels of deep emotions such as feelings of victimization, resentment, sadness, grief, anger, hurt, guilt, fear, and myriad other painful sentiments. Each difficult experience, however, also eventually resulted in tremendous healing and growth—greatly blessing my life as I learned to shift my perceptions.

 

While writing tonight about these experiences, a vivid image floods my mind. I picture an open and desolate field that was once scattered with thousands of hidden land mines. Seven years ago, when my life seemed to be collapsing all around me, I was very needy; I desperately craved love and validation from others. My emotional landscape literally resembled this volatile field of land mines. My own capacity for self love was so fragile that the smallest of external triggers could cause my life to seemingly explode around me. One small misstep and a sensitive feeling would be shattered, or a hopeful expectation would be devastated. On a daily basis, I was constantly picking up the pieces and attempting to heal and stabilize my life.

 

Over time, as I have progressed along my joyful healing path, most of those land mines have long since exploded, being subsequently healed and replaced with love. Through therapy and spiritual growth, most other unexploded land mines were safely uncovered and defused. Today, my emotional field actually feels quite clear, safe, and stable. The few land mines that still remain are very well hidden, existing only on less traveled paths, in unexpected places.

 

Tomorrow, as I sit out yet another wedding, my heart is indeed overflowing with love and gratitude. While feeling spiritually and emotionally prepared to face the day, I fully expect to pass through each experience with grace and dignity, joyfully participating in the day’s events in every way possible.

 

But I cannot fool myself either. I am fully aware that early tomorrow morning I will be mounting my bicycle and eagerly riding through the same large open mine field that once concealed thousands of land mines. As I venture through rarely traveled sections of the field, there is a very real possibility that I will stumble across another of these well-hidden and unexploded booby traps.

 

One thing I do believe, however, is that I am prepared to deal with whatever emotions may arise. I have the tools to heal, and know that no matter what comes up, I will respond through a perspective of unconditional love.

 

Yes, it is indeed quite likely that deeply buried feelings may begin to surface. If they do, I will shine the light of love on each of them. I will remind myself that each feeling is merely the result of my own perceptions, beliefs, and expectations. If I remain spiritually centered, Saturday will be a beautiful and peaceful day.

 

The Big Day

 

Saturday afternoon is now rapidly disappearing. As I attempt to squeeze in a little more writing time, the hours continue to race by.

 

I finally made it to bed early this morning, shortly after 1:00 a.m.—I simply couldn’t seem to put my laptop down last night; the urge to write was just too powerful. After less than six hours of restless zzzzz’s, I was stirring again, busily preparing for today’s big activities. By the time I pulled my Camry into the temple parking lot at 9:20 a.m., my insides were filled with an over-active gathering of anxious butterflies.

 

As I commonly do, I had arrived ten minutes early. Looking around the parking lot, all I could see were strange unfamiliar faces of men and women, dressed in their Sunday best, headed for the temple doors.

 

The last time I remember being this close to a Mormon temple was over twenty-two years ago—and today was the first time I had ever been on the grounds of this particular temple. Feeling quite strange as I exited my car, I began walking toward the entrance. Memories of the past, from so very long ago, flooded through the corners of my mind—memories of my own temple wedding almost 33 years ago—memories of how I had fought so valiantly to suppress and control my gender struggles—memories of the incredible guilt that haunted me during those difficult years—memories of how I had reached a point of no longer wanting to live if I had to continue pretending to be something that I was not.

 

When he invited me, my son told me that everyone was meeting at the temple around 9:30 a.m., and that I could come to help babysit the grandkids while the adults were inside participating in the ceremony. Feeling thrilled to even be involved at this level, I jumped at the opportunity. As I pondered my joy at being included, I could still remember the past emotional stings of not being given such an opportunity during previous weddings. Vivid memories still linger, memories of somberly sitting with a few friends at work, trying not to burst into tears as I painfully watched the minutes slowly tick away—knowing that at that very moment, one of my children was in the process of getting married—knowing I was not there—desperately wishing I could be.

 

Yes, I was thrilled to have been invited to be so near—to be so intimately included in today’s events. As I write about these feelings, however, I realize that I would be deceiving myself if I pretended that all past pain was fully healed. The intensity of my feelings tells me that I still have a little additional perception-shifting to work through. But that is exactly why I am writing—to bring these lingering little land mines into the light of truth.

 

As I neared the entrance area, the butterflies in my stomach fluttered even more wildly. “I wonder if my family is even here yet.” I pondered. “They’re probably still stuck in that slow traffic at the south end of the valley.” Then I wondered, “Do they really want me here?”

 

As 9:30 came and went, I began to slip deeper into a feeling of panic. “What if I can’t even find them? … What if I stand around here by myself for the next hour?” Even with my emotional preparedness, my self-doubts silently began to creep in. Yes, I momentarily tripped over the trigger of a small land mine.

 

I felt my cell phone buzz. Eager for a distraction, I reached to investigate. My dear friend Lori sent me a beautiful text wishing me a wonderful day with my family. I texted her back, letting her know that I was beginning to feel anxious. Seconds later, her beautiful reply arrived, “You will be just fine! Take a deep breath … and the reflection of who you are will be your companion today! I love you!”

 

Following her wise advice, I stopped and took a few deep breaths. After briefly meditating and immersing myself into a feeling of gratitude, I picked up my cell phone and called two of my sons. Both were still on their way, just a few minutes away. Calm and peace began to settle back into my soul.

 

Minutes later, I was standing in the waiting area just inside the temple entrance, joyfully visiting with several of my children and grandchildren. A sense of comfort and peace was now becoming deeply rooted within.

 

As all of the adults disappeared into the temple, I spent thirty special minutes with three of my precious granddaughters. I couldn’t have been happier and more content. Yes, I still wondered about the “goings on” inside the temple walls—but I was having a blast—and was overflowing with peace.

 

Almost as quickly as they had disappeared, my children began to emerge back into the waiting area. My dear son was now married, and it was time to record the event with photos.

 

The wedding party, including family and friends, found their way out into the beautiful landscaped surroundings of the temple. The colorful flowers, shrubs, and trees were alive with the moist energy of a recent storm. An earlier downpour had only recently ended its fury, and the skies were gradually shifting from gray to clear blue.

 

Deep gratitude permeated my being as I watched my beautiful family amidst the hustle and bustle of the photographer who was actively performing her duties. The youthful energy of my grandchildren eagerly playing in the background brought new life to my soul.

 

As larger family group shots were posed, I again began to doubt. “Should I stay in the background?” I asked myself. I was thrilled when the photographer told me, “Brenda, you go stand up over there …”

 

The remainder of the afternoon flew by quickly. Before disbanding for the afternoon, we met at a local church building for a small family luncheon. While waiting for the dinner to begin, I took advantage of the chance to play with several grandchildren. To my delight, I was thrilled to have my first opportunity to hold my tiny three-week-old granddaughter. What a wonderful afternoon, and the day’s events have yet to be completed.

 

An Abundance of Gratitude

 

My son’s magical wedding day is now complete. The reception was a beautiful experience. I could not have imagined a more wonderful ending to a fabulous day.

 

Yes, I did momentarily stumble early this morning as I began to slip into past thinking patterns and old emotional pain—but I put myself back on track by re-centering myself into a loving mind set.

 

Michelle, a dear friend and self-adopted sister, went with me tonight to the reception. I was intensely proud of my children as I watched them lovingly interact with each other, with their children, with Michelle, and with me. In every possible way, my children truly reflected back the love that I feel for them. Moments like tonight cause my heart to swell with an overwhelming abundance of gratitude.

 

In spite of the challenges that we have all faced—and even with the awkwardness of religious separation—tonight my children set a powerful example into the true meaning of unconditional love.

 

To each of my children, if you are reading this, I want to tell you how proud I am of the example that you set for everyone around you. I love you with all of my heart, and could never find the words to properly express the deep gratitude I feel for your beautiful presence in my life. Thank you.

 

Copyright © 2009 by Brenda Larsen, All Rights Reserved