It might be because I have a slew of family, cousins, nieces, and nephews that I was taught to always put another person first. As a result, all gatherings were crowded, and being first in anything was a moot point.
It was not unusual for me to extend an invitation to the person next to me to step in front at the meal line, settle in the middle seat in the car, or show up as johnny-on-the-spot for dirty dish detail and laundry and cleaning and babysitting...
You get the idea. I was acting out within ingrained habits without thinking about what I was doing. I became a non-self with no room for me, and questions and creativity and openness and dreaming and wanting and…… I brought these “follow along” habits with me into adulthood.
Then one day, when I was old, I looked at my actions, primarily my efforts within a group, and decided I was not all that happy with that version of Marleen.
And so, I changed. Slowly at first, I gained confidence and momentum.
Do you know that you attract happiness when you show up as yourself? I discovered that first-hand.
My life is healthier today. This is because I no longer wait for someone to step in with new ways of doing things so I can follow along.
No more waiting for someone, anyone, or the right person to step up with questions or solutions.
You might say I fired the old Marleen and hired this new version of me.
And a new version is available for everyone reading this post. A unique and different version of one-self, just in case the old version is not working out so well.
Let’s draw back the curtain of a new one-act play. A play with new stars! And the title?
When the doors opened, people poured in to celebrate the life of a woman. This woman gave with a whole heart, baked bread, birthed babies, weeded gardens, drove a tractor, wrote disciplinary letters to her children, walked with a walker, smiled with her whole face, and loved outrageously.
My Mother
Mother’s death brought us together on this day and time. This woman, she, the wheel, the rest of us, the spokes, all gathered to say goodbye and remember her as we knew and understood her. Each one had a story and came together to tell it and laugh and remember.
It was electric. A connection was made by voice, sight, sound, and touch.
We had three days to get it orchestrated. We referenced numerous pieces of paper Mom left with the details on who,
how, and where the event should be held. Ingenius on her part, as we followed her wishes to a T. She got what she wished for, and we, for sure, we did. We got it done with the many details in getting the word out, check the church, how much food, who digs the earth for the grave, arrange transportation, whether it will rain, etc.
My family is not at all similar. Some like church, others, not so much, and then the boundless opposing ideologies about culture, lifestyle, parenting, education, where to live, how to live, who likes what, who does not, and will the Vikings ever win; a SuperBowl! (I just threw that in).
Even without similarities, I felt a glorious people connection during the hours at the church and then especially at the gravesite. We connected. Maybe it was an eye roll, a handshake, a word, laughter, whatever. I felt the presence and energy, and spirit of the crowd around me. Maybe it was that we were in one thought, all standing around the gravesite and extending our gratitude to our mother, grandmother, great-grandmother, great-great-grandmother, and friend by plucking a flower from the large bunch resting on the casket.
We loved her.
Mom connected us, and that day by the gravesite, I felt safe, loved, and embraced by everyone around me.
