You have to let your defenses DOWN in order to be Mothered.
So when you're in a position to MOTHER someone else, you completely empathize. Where you have to get to, from the needy side - to bobble your head "Yes," accept, welcome, encourage the tire change.
It is far from easy to be vulnerable, not wanting to appear lazy and inept, to will your hand UP, while trying to scrape yourself off the pavement of despair.
OR feeling:
belittled
scared to numbness
your intestines are knotted
pockets turned out
the blazing fever
deserted
you're thumbing a ride, seemingly to hell.
I've been there, in all of those places from the starting gate where "I need to figure this out. Three days ago. By myself."
Years ago. Lying on a gurney, in a Brasilian hospital, awaiting foot surgery, I cried silently, filling my ear canals with tears. They spilled over onto the stiff sheet, creating a soppy pool under my head. The attendant, a young fellow with high eyebrows, hard parted and slicked to the side in a perfect black shiny shelf, placed a delicate hand, just slightly to the left of my neck. He leaned over. As I inhaled his swollen-to-bursting cologne, he hummed "May you be gently lead to the Lord, and return safely back home." (This was my loose interpretation, since my Portuguese was spotty at the time.) In a swift second, he stood and left the vicinity. I am not positive he was even there. The stark halls, that just a minute ago, brought my trepidation cantering from one door to the next, had softened.
I still felt the steady water flow from my eyes. Now they didn't perpetuate fright. Instead, I just lie there, in the moments, breathing.
I was Mothered to Peace in that time of delay. I never saw that guy again. I'm certain he'd done it before and will do it again. If he was really there!
And I pray I can live up to that.
Prepare to be Mothered, so you can in turn, Mother someone else!
And be sure to tell the story. 'Cause they're so luscious.
Leave me a comment, if you already have a story to tell. I'd love to hear it.