Here, Weakest Means Strongest

Dear Sister,

When I arrive out of breath your brow is furrowed, eyes shut tight.  The only thing you can see is agony.  I ease myself into the room and when your gaze meets mine your eyes flicker.  You are ashamed.  Ashamed that I have to see you like this.  Ashamed to have descended to a level that seems so low.  You focus wavers from the neshama you are bringing into the world and for the moment you worry about what I am thinking.  I try to fade away, wondering if indeed I should have come, but then I remember to be brave in the face of your bravery, reminding myself that you want me here.

I wait, watching you, silent.  And I pray, pray that you will become comfortable with my being with you, pray that I will be able to be of some use, pray that this will be an experience that you will look back on with pride and joy.

It washes over you again and again.  Pain that rocks the earth’s core, and I can see the change.  Now you let go.  And I’m here for you.  Body, mind, and soul.

“Help me.”

As another wave comes, again you are overcome.  With fear and helplessness.  Your face is raw with vulnerability.  Vulnerability that up until now, didn’t exist in my world.  Never mind you, my gorgeous sister, my inspiration and touchstone, going through what women have been overcoming since we left Gan Eden.  You are one with the universe in every ounce and every second you’re experiencing.  You cry out.

“I can’t do this.”

Dear sister, you are doing it.  And you right now, at this moment, are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.  You are perfect, and so right.  Your face, wracked with torment, is clean and pure with purpose.  Until now, I never knew anyone could be so strong.  As the wave peaks higher and higher, every inch of you falls into place.  I reach out to hold you tight as your purpose threatens to overwhelm once again.

You collapse.  Drained.

“I’m too weak.”

No, dear sister, you are the strongest I have ever seen.  And you are so stunning that it it shatters the room and I cry with you.  You say that you’re weak yet light is shining through you infinitely, pouring into this place so bright that I have to look away.  And I remember a year ago, when you were there for me, holding on in the same way and telling me that I was the most beautiful.  Now I understand.

The life in my belly kicks against yours, urging it to join the world as I hold you up and you brace yourself to be overwhelmed once again.  You breathe deep, eyes skyward, and we cry out together.  You, because you don’t think you can do it, and me because I know that you can.  You feel powerless, helpless, and don’t know much longer you can go on.  But I know you can, my beautiful ethereal sister, and you will, because this is why you are here.  This is why we are here.

But for now, you will continue.  And every time you will pray for this wave to be your last, knowing that not now, not yet.  With every surge you will rise higher and higher, closer and closer to Gd, reaching out with everything that you have to bring down that soul.  This soul that has chosen you and only you to be his mother.