The 40 Year Old Bat Mitzvah

Everyday spirituality

Posted in philosophizing, soulfish, spirituality by Juliet on March 12, 2010

Regular Thanksgiving Feast readers know that I have an annual tradition of watching avidly for the first “Temecula wildflower” of spring.

We moved to Temecula several years ago around Labor Day. I set to weeding with all the zeal of a first time homeowner. The following spring, I noticed beautiful pink wildflowers all around the neighborhood.

Neighbors told me, “They started at your house!”

Turns out, the previous owners had planted Siskiyou primroses, which spread all over the neighborhood.  Home Depot must have sold a lot of them because I see them everywhere around town.  Here in Temecula, they grow all up and down Butterfield Stage at the edge of Crowne Hill, along De Portola Road, and especially throughout Paloma del Sol.

Knowing not to pick them the following year, I waited expectantly for them to make their appearance in the spring.  They did not disappoint me and now, six years later, I’m still preserving the tradition.

This, too, is spirituality.

My entire being, inside and out, is in tune with the very force of creation.

There are more prosaic moments, too. Both of our kids had a “cough virus” recently. They coughed and had fevers. Just when we thought we were ready to send our older daughter back to school, she woke in the night literally screaming in pain. She had an earache.

It was midnight; there was not much I could do other than comfort her. I gave her Motrin. I had her sleep sitting upright propped on pillows next to me and held her in my arms.

She whimpered all night but at least the screaming stopped.

As one a.m. turned to two, and I eased her into bed beside Scott so we could take turns being with her, my soul felt fulfilled.

My eyes felt rough from lack of sleep and I knew the next morning was going to be a bear. But I also felt a deep spiritual connection to my family – my daughter, crying from the pain, but comforted just by our mere presence; my husband, carrying the burden with me; our other daughter, not screaming or even whimpering, but tossing slightly feverishly in her own bed; and the generations of mothers, grandmothers, aunts, sisters, friends, and neighbors who had spent nights sitting awake in rocking chairs or propped on couches watching over children.

This, too, is spirituality.

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