I want my mommy.  I wish she was here.  She left so early in my life…well not as early as some, but maybe it always seems too early.  I feel like I was comforted and seeded well, but then not polished, not told about adulthood, being grown-up, and being a mom myself.

What an experience to mate and hold a human seed in my belly.  Watching that bump turn into a baby.  Carrying another heart beneath my heart.  When my children were pulled from me, I could feel their heart beating for years outside of my body.  The invisible cord pumped love and support and returned beauty, wonder and a depth of dimension to spirit.  My children are my spiritual teachers, there is no doubt.

Twenty-five years later, she sobs on the phone and the pull of her body grabs my gut, twists my heart and wrings weeping tears as I type.  There seems to be so little I can do.  My words seem so small, so far away, so trite to comfort.

Thus I turn to my Mommy.  I lean into Meera, Durga and Mary.  I rest my head into the breast of Grandmother Spider Woman and let her take my sobbing to Her arms.  I breathe deep and know that we are always together on this astounding, mysterious, heart-spirit Path together.  She is as close to me as my pain, as near as my skin within.  I rest in Her Presence.