Cry, and the Milk will Come

Our house listed today. After four months of floor refinishing, painting, wiring, plumbing, old oil tank-removing, garage-building late nights, these old walls are loved up and ready for someone else. When Wyatt got home and saw the sign, he said, "That makes me sad." Then he went up into his favorite crook of the cherry tree and just sat there for awhile. I wish some adults I know could process their emotions as well.

These last weeks have brought to mind some favorite lines from Rumi:

Crying out loud and weeping are great resources.
A nursing mother, all she does
is wait to hear her child.

Just a little beginning-whimper,
and she's there.

God created the child, that is, your wanting,
so that it might cry out, so that milk might come. 

On the off-chance that some men are reading this blog--men that aren't fathers, especially--Rumi, amazingly, (was he a man or a woman?!) refers to what's known as "let-down." When a nursing mother hears her baby cry, her breast milk is released. The child's wanting unleashes the abundance in her.

So many times recently, I've said to Yancey, "What would we have done if Rich and Mary didn't let us live with them?" or "How would we have met our deadline if Kenny didn't come over and mow the lawn?" or "How would we have paid for this if I didn't have so much work lately?" And Yancey will say, "But you did" or "But they are." Cry, and the milk will come. I am so grateful for the abundance that's been released over and over again in our lives. 

The changes are just beginning for us, and I have a feeling Wyatt will need a lot more time in that cherry tree. His little trek reminds me that, in times of uncertainty and change, our inner life is really all we have--all we can count on. Houses, friends, careers, success--they come and go. What hasn't changed for me is the asking and the receiving. The milk is there--it just takes a lot of wailing to get it sometimes.