Something I wrote for our Unitarian Universalist Congregation's service on Thanksgiving
I was asked to speak on "spirit"...here's what I came up with:
My Experience with the Human Spirit
My son is adopted. He is not from my flesh, not of my blood. I did not give him life; he took his first breath in another woman’s arms. We do not share a genetic map. And, in his own words, he is “cafe” and I am “white”. Until I met this child, I did not know the smell of his skin; I did not know the softness of his hair; I did not know the difference between his cries; I did not know how to soothe him. But from the moment I first saw his picture, gazing deep into his coffee-colored eyes, I knew his spirit. I felt a formidable connection with this child so many miles away, so far from the embrace of my arms. Some might say that I was experiencing that powerful force known as ‘mother’s intuition’; others more skeptical might say that my longing to know him was so intense, it created a false sense of familiarity. But, deep in the core of my Being, I know that somehow, in some inexplicable, metaphysical way, his spirit made its way into my heart and became intertwined with my own spirit. I knew his spirit, well before his precious little cinnamon skinned baby body arrived into my arms.
I struggle to explain this phenomenon to other people, grasping for the right words to convey a sensation that is so very real for me. Here is what I know: Cristian Emanuel, Diego’s birth name, was born on an auspicious day in December; to the ancient Mayans, no doubt a lineage from which his biological family comes, the number 13 is sacred. And so, there has never been a doubt in my mind that this child born on December 13, 2004 in San Juan Alotenango, Guatemala, on the coffee planted foothills of Volcan de Agua, was meant to be my son.
Diego is a strong life-force, full of vigor and energy. His spirit is exuberant, fiercely determined, incorrigible, sometimes difficult, and extremely strong-willed, much in fact like my own. The connection we share, the mother-child relationship we have, in my logical mind should be no different than the bond I share with my biological daughter. Except that it is different. There’s something much more intangible about the spiritual connection I feel when I hold Diego in my arms, when I think about the early months of his life during which time I could not cuddle or console him. I certainly anticipated having similar feelings for my daughter when she was born, but I admit that I do not. She and I share a different kind of bond, but it does not feel the same as the spiritual bond I feel with Diego. That’s neither bad nor good. It just is.
And so this morning I share with you my embryonic understanding of spirit and its presence in my life and how it is embodied in the relationship I have with Diego, a deep connection distinct from emotion and stronger than physical reality. In my life…this is how I have experienced the human spirit.
My son is adopted. He is not from my flesh, not of my blood. I did not give him life; he took his first breath in another woman’s arms. We do not share a genetic map. And, in his own words, he is “cafe” and I am “white”. Until I met this child, I did not know the smell of his skin; I did not know the softness of his hair; I did not know the difference between his cries; I did not know how to soothe him. But from the moment I first saw his picture, gazing deep into his coffee-colored eyes, I knew his spirit. I felt a formidable connection with this child so many miles away, so far from the embrace of my arms. Some might say that I was experiencing that powerful force known as ‘mother’s intuition’; others more skeptical might say that my longing to know him was so intense, it created a false sense of familiarity. But, deep in the core of my Being, I know that somehow, in some inexplicable, metaphysical way, his spirit made its way into my heart and became intertwined with my own spirit. I knew his spirit, well before his precious little cinnamon skinned baby body arrived into my arms.
I struggle to explain this phenomenon to other people, grasping for the right words to convey a sensation that is so very real for me. Here is what I know: Cristian Emanuel, Diego’s birth name, was born on an auspicious day in December; to the ancient Mayans, no doubt a lineage from which his biological family comes, the number 13 is sacred. And so, there has never been a doubt in my mind that this child born on December 13, 2004 in San Juan Alotenango, Guatemala, on the coffee planted foothills of Volcan de Agua, was meant to be my son.
Diego is a strong life-force, full of vigor and energy. His spirit is exuberant, fiercely determined, incorrigible, sometimes difficult, and extremely strong-willed, much in fact like my own. The connection we share, the mother-child relationship we have, in my logical mind should be no different than the bond I share with my biological daughter. Except that it is different. There’s something much more intangible about the spiritual connection I feel when I hold Diego in my arms, when I think about the early months of his life during which time I could not cuddle or console him. I certainly anticipated having similar feelings for my daughter when she was born, but I admit that I do not. She and I share a different kind of bond, but it does not feel the same as the spiritual bond I feel with Diego. That’s neither bad nor good. It just is.
And so this morning I share with you my embryonic understanding of spirit and its presence in my life and how it is embodied in the relationship I have with Diego, a deep connection distinct from emotion and stronger than physical reality. In my life…this is how I have experienced the human spirit.
posted by Ramers at 4:05 PM
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