This is the kind of ache that prayer can’t soothe and poetry refuses to explain. A holy wounding. A lion-hearted love that leaves stretch marks on the soul. Thank you for reminding us that to be alive is to be both nest and sky, cradle and release. Some Mondays feel like crucifixions, but you’ve wrapped this one in resurrection.
"I am," indeed—tender, torn, and still showing up.
Oh my dear soul, Aleksander, what an utterly moving response to Sarah's last share. A holey wounding. A lion-hearted love that leaves stretch marks on the soul. Yes, both "nest and sky, cradle and release"... indeed, "I am" too... tender, torn and still showing up.
Tenderly astute, succinct Aleksander 🙏 aligned with Sarah's soul sharing.
Oh, my goodness, Aleksander. This is SO beautiful. I honestly cannot believe the privilege that I feel here to read such moving soul and heart language. A deep bow of gratitude❣️
I live in the abyss of my children grown, where I am theirs yet they are not mine. I see the lights and joy of the world in their children’s eyes, and wonder if they see joy in mine. This abyss has swallowed me, spit me out again and again. A choice and experience I choose and will choose until my last breath.
Thank you Sarah for reminding me of the Mondays and of the summer days. Thank you community.
Dearest Linda….oh my, your words, “I live in the abyss of my children grown, where I am theirs yet they are not mine.” Caught my breath. That. T h a t.
Is IT.
You captured this inexplicable phenomenon we “will choose” to our last breath.
Thank you Linda, an ever sweet relief to read your ever so succinct reflection, to feel “so seen” (as Sarah always manages to do 🙏) 73 in Sept. alone. Retired. kids grown, gone, far away. Limited contact. This “abyss”…..how DO we do this? We are theirs, but they are not ours. My small grandchildren know me as a vague concept. An abyss I never saw coming or ever would have imagined possible. Your, and Sarah’s words touched my soul🙏 I feel ever so grateful to feel “seen.” Not alone. Blessings Linda.
I live in the gaping wound of having lost my child last year to a sudden cardiac event.
And yet, I am.
I am here.
I am alive.
I am broken open and exposed to this harsh world.
I am on my 50th Monday without him physically here.
And through this passing of time, I find myself more in love with the natural and spiritual world - for that is where I remain connected, forever to my dear sweet boy - a connection that can never be lost or destroyed. 💫
I can only imagine this chasm yet somehow Grace and eternal love is so beautifully holding and supporting you. Sending you gentle waves of ease, light and love . 🙏🫂💞🕊️🙏
This is so beautiful yet so devastating all at once- I feel this writing as I do all of Sarah’s writing- as an invitation and at the same time, a trembling kind of surrender- I am never the same person before and after I read what she has written or before and after a meditation. I’m
forever, however subtly, changed. I’m such a fan❤️
The circles just keep spinning round and round. Today my husband and I spent half the day with our three eldest grand nuggets. To listen to them, to observe their innate kindness for this world they are inheriting, catches my breath, and with a bit of a prick of a hang nail on silk. I go back in time to their mother at their varying ages. Our cellular matter will always be infused somewhere within these gorgeous children of ours, I hope mine is all around their hearts. 💜 Enjoy your sons this summer, and the adventures at hand. Carve out heart moments for you too, even if brief, each and every one of them matters. Such a touching offering, Sarah. Loving care dear one and to your precious family. 🪶
Oh my, my dearest Sarah. I wait to create the space/moment to close my eyes and listen to this next share you sent on A Body Marked by Love. I glanced down the words a bit, and KNOW how deeply moved it's going to be, how fathoms deep in me will be touched. I need to wait for a quiet, dark, embraced space to listen. I started to read responses, and not ready yet as I will want to respond to everyone's share... as this is such a deep, heavy, 'experience' for those of us who travel this path. Oh my heart. My heart. I am. 💗🙏
So beautiful Sarah, so touching, so poignant yet it leaves you feeling sad, disheartened, but proud. Proud of who they did become and the part you played in it all. The circle, completed. Now time to rest.
Your words often touch my heart Sarah. They soften my heart and I shed tears. Your words about your children, oh how they resonate with me and the ache in my chest I know I will always feel for my 32 year old son. It’s an eternal ache. I have feelings that I have lived numerous life’s and will live many more yet I can’t quite grasp them. You are an angel. 🙏🏽💞
Sarah, you have such a gift in the way you write with the emotions of so many. Listening to you spin words into the reality of exactly how I feel, it's both beautiful, and achingly tender to my mother's heart. What a wonder it is how we are all connected through the beautiful nurturing cycles of our earth, the changing days. They go so fast, as our children grow even faster, it seems. So much pride, sadness, fear, amazement, and all encompassing love as we watch our once wee ones go out into the world, and begin their own seasons of this life ❤️
Good gracious. What a beautiful one this one is. Thank you, Sarah. Always stupefied (in the very best way) by your words. Enjoy this Summer with your boys.
Coming from a childhood of abuse, neglect and trauma I raised my two children the best I could. With no taught resources, I poured through literature and dove into therapy. I had to do this right…I had to stop the cycle . We made it through and off they went. Did I do it right? Self doubt lingers yet to this day. And then, my daughter bought a home across the street from us. What, I thought. She wants to live near? Then she gave me a gift of a lifetime, my first grandchild. Could this really be happening I remember thinking. I’m the person always walking on eggshells waiting for the next disaster to unfold. But yet, this blessing has been given to me. Mondays represent joy, that is my full day with my granddaughter. She captures every cell in my body. I have to restrain my hugs. I want to hold her while she sleeps because it heals my old wounds. Sarah, thank you for your beautiful words. They allow me to open up my heart and sore with gratitude.
This is the kind of ache that prayer can’t soothe and poetry refuses to explain. A holy wounding. A lion-hearted love that leaves stretch marks on the soul. Thank you for reminding us that to be alive is to be both nest and sky, cradle and release. Some Mondays feel like crucifixions, but you’ve wrapped this one in resurrection.
"I am," indeed—tender, torn, and still showing up.
Oh my dear soul, Aleksander, what an utterly moving response to Sarah's last share. A holey wounding. A lion-hearted love that leaves stretch marks on the soul. Yes, both "nest and sky, cradle and release"... indeed, "I am" too... tender, torn and still showing up.
Tenderly astute, succinct Aleksander 🙏 aligned with Sarah's soul sharing.
Oh, my goodness, Aleksander. This is SO beautiful. I honestly cannot believe the privilege that I feel here to read such moving soul and heart language. A deep bow of gratitude❣️
I live in the abyss of my children grown, where I am theirs yet they are not mine. I see the lights and joy of the world in their children’s eyes, and wonder if they see joy in mine. This abyss has swallowed me, spit me out again and again. A choice and experience I choose and will choose until my last breath.
Thank you Sarah for reminding me of the Mondays and of the summer days. Thank you community.
Dearest Linda….oh my, your words, “I live in the abyss of my children grown, where I am theirs yet they are not mine.” Caught my breath. That. T h a t.
Is IT.
You captured this inexplicable phenomenon we “will choose” to our last breath.
Thank you Linda, an ever sweet relief to read your ever so succinct reflection, to feel “so seen” (as Sarah always manages to do 🙏) 73 in Sept. alone. Retired. kids grown, gone, far away. Limited contact. This “abyss”…..how DO we do this? We are theirs, but they are not ours. My small grandchildren know me as a vague concept. An abyss I never saw coming or ever would have imagined possible. Your, and Sarah’s words touched my soul🙏 I feel ever so grateful to feel “seen.” Not alone. Blessings Linda.
I see you🙏❤️
Let go. Let be. Be free.
* Is Is *
yes an abyss we never saw coming-my free fall caught by communities like this and those of heart that understand
Thank you for your understanding today ❤️
Yep... a free fall we never saw coming. Who knew?? Thank GODDESS for communities like this 🙏🙏🙏💞
I live in the gaping wound of having lost my child last year to a sudden cardiac event.
And yet, I am.
I am here.
I am alive.
I am broken open and exposed to this harsh world.
I am on my 50th Monday without him physically here.
And through this passing of time, I find myself more in love with the natural and spiritual world - for that is where I remain connected, forever to my dear sweet boy - a connection that can never be lost or destroyed. 💫
I am so sorry for your loss Heather. Sending love and light to you 💕
I can only imagine this chasm yet somehow Grace and eternal love is so beautifully holding and supporting you. Sending you gentle waves of ease, light and love . 🙏🫂💞🕊️🙏
This is so beautiful yet so devastating all at once- I feel this writing as I do all of Sarah’s writing- as an invitation and at the same time, a trembling kind of surrender- I am never the same person before and after I read what she has written or before and after a meditation. I’m
forever, however subtly, changed. I’m such a fan❤️
Monday mornings -you write so elegantly Sarah
I smiled as I read this as my children are grown and out of “this place of love” yet I still feel
I too am deciphering needs always with love carrying their hopes and mine
Thank you for this !
The circles just keep spinning round and round. Today my husband and I spent half the day with our three eldest grand nuggets. To listen to them, to observe their innate kindness for this world they are inheriting, catches my breath, and with a bit of a prick of a hang nail on silk. I go back in time to their mother at their varying ages. Our cellular matter will always be infused somewhere within these gorgeous children of ours, I hope mine is all around their hearts. 💜 Enjoy your sons this summer, and the adventures at hand. Carve out heart moments for you too, even if brief, each and every one of them matters. Such a touching offering, Sarah. Loving care dear one and to your precious family. 🪶
Oh my, my dearest Sarah. I wait to create the space/moment to close my eyes and listen to this next share you sent on A Body Marked by Love. I glanced down the words a bit, and KNOW how deeply moved it's going to be, how fathoms deep in me will be touched. I need to wait for a quiet, dark, embraced space to listen. I started to read responses, and not ready yet as I will want to respond to everyone's share... as this is such a deep, heavy, 'experience' for those of us who travel this path. Oh my heart. My heart. I am. 💗🙏
So beautiful Sarah, so touching, so poignant yet it leaves you feeling sad, disheartened, but proud. Proud of who they did become and the part you played in it all. The circle, completed. Now time to rest.
Your words sing to my soul; a familiar song of understanding, of knowing. ❤️
Beautiful, sad, compelling, joyous.
Thank you, Sarah.
Your words often touch my heart Sarah. They soften my heart and I shed tears. Your words about your children, oh how they resonate with me and the ache in my chest I know I will always feel for my 32 year old son. It’s an eternal ache. I have feelings that I have lived numerous life’s and will live many more yet I can’t quite grasp them. You are an angel. 🙏🏽💞
Sarah, you have such a gift in the way you write with the emotions of so many. Listening to you spin words into the reality of exactly how I feel, it's both beautiful, and achingly tender to my mother's heart. What a wonder it is how we are all connected through the beautiful nurturing cycles of our earth, the changing days. They go so fast, as our children grow even faster, it seems. So much pride, sadness, fear, amazement, and all encompassing love as we watch our once wee ones go out into the world, and begin their own seasons of this life ❤️
Good gracious. What a beautiful one this one is. Thank you, Sarah. Always stupefied (in the very best way) by your words. Enjoy this Summer with your boys.
Coming from a childhood of abuse, neglect and trauma I raised my two children the best I could. With no taught resources, I poured through literature and dove into therapy. I had to do this right…I had to stop the cycle . We made it through and off they went. Did I do it right? Self doubt lingers yet to this day. And then, my daughter bought a home across the street from us. What, I thought. She wants to live near? Then she gave me a gift of a lifetime, my first grandchild. Could this really be happening I remember thinking. I’m the person always walking on eggshells waiting for the next disaster to unfold. But yet, this blessing has been given to me. Mondays represent joy, that is my full day with my granddaughter. She captures every cell in my body. I have to restrain my hugs. I want to hold her while she sleeps because it heals my old wounds. Sarah, thank you for your beautiful words. They allow me to open up my heart and sore with gratitude.
Thank you, Sarah... recently i have discovered that the arrival of a grandchild soothes that open wound. It is a balm of love like no other! 🌻
My 18y/o love has left home to build his own, through adventure. He may be back, either soon or never. 💔🙏🏼