Remembering Herself Home

Tears streamed down her cheeks as Maia said goodbye to her son, closed the door and walked to her car. The cotton candy skies with their Spring sunset couldn’t even lift her spirits. Birds sang an evening story and children played in the street, moving to let her car pass. She drove slowly, wiping the tears from her face. Saying goodbye to her son on the days he went with Dad was the hardest part of being a single mama.

She was running out of options for money and this meant they could take her child away. The fierce mama inside of her was so tired of this story. The same patterns of scarcity from her Grandmother’s generation played out in real time for her to see. It was time to become financially free.

She had always believed in fate. Her life had been like that of a book, each new chapter brought exactly what they needed in the moment that they needed it. Monetarily, they always had just enough. Separated for four years from the father of her child, she had worked a variety of jobs that captured her heart: food security in Central America, women’s empowerment in Nepal, wildlife conservation in Africa. She held fundraisers that filled rooms and raised thousands of money for others, but ironically, she had been starving the whole time.

Her son was five. He had gotten to the age where he noticed money. The night before, as they ate at their tiny kitchen table, he exclaimed, “Daddy is rich!” She calmly replied, “Some people believe money to be more important than others. Isn’t that interesting?” and as William looked back down at his food she made a face. How does it start so early, this interest in money?

People are rewarded for working long hours, being away from their family, exploiting the earth and the people that work for them. Maia had consciously took the last four years to be with her son. She took plenty of consulting jobs, worked during naps and bedtimes and worked when he was with his Dad. And when her son needed her she was there for him. She created emotional stability, but the financial stability was yet to follow. Her mind swirled. How will she ever create the abundance they need?

When she arrived home to their small apartment, she threw her keys on the hook and took off her boots. She greeted each of the plants growing in the apartment, tending to their leaves, watering them with both water and love. She sat down in front of her ancestor altar and lit a candle. Looking at the images of her grandparents, she asked the question aloud, “How? How do I change this story?”

She looked over at her son’s ‘work desk’ and laughed. There were papers haphazardly stuffed into the organizers she bought him. There are all sorts of gadgets held together by elastics – he had been building a robot. His five-year-old inventor self was so sweet. I never want him to lose his spark of imagination, she thought to herself.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a little black book that sat perched on top of her altar. Their home was full of books, journals, musical instruments and half painted canvases; a truly artistic home. But she didn’t remember this journal. It reminded her of the backpacker journals she travelled to Africa and India with. How did my travel journals get out on the altar? she wondered. Perhaps William found it and put it there. She picked it up and headed to her room to put it back. But as she casually flipped open the page, she saw what strangely looked like a mature version of her own handwriting. It was a message that she couldn’t have written herself.

It was dated twenty years in the future.

She sat spontaneously on the kitchen floor and began to read. Her jaw dropped in fascination, awe and wander. This was a message from her future self.

My dear sweet Maia,

My my my, how much work you have put into being alive over these years! You have never taken the easy route and yet you’ve always landed on your feet. I know it’s been a challenge to work on yourself in a culture that wants you to work on everyone else. I know you’ve spent more emotional investment on William and his future than you have a bank account and that’s been tough for you to process. Our society champions one path, but you’ve taken another.

I know this because I am you. As I write this William’s off in Egypt, uncovering some of the biggest mysteries of our time. He grew up to be an inventor. He grew up to be a discoverer. But most importantly, he grew to be a beautiful, confident and kind soul. You should be very proud of how you raised him.

Time slowed to a halt as tears began to spill from her eyes.

Every mother wants to know that the way they raise their child is ‘right’. And yet we’ll never know, will we? This is as close as you’ll come, but continue to follow your heart. No matter what Society or Google or Facebook or Instagram tries to pull you into, turn it off. Play cars and crafts with him. Connect with his lofty spirit. If there’s time for the important pieces, abundance will come into your life, because this is what the children of the world need right now. You are being supported by far greater sources than you know. Children today need stewards for their souls. Otherwise, the soul wanders in this technological, profit-focused world and they’ll get lost. Stay true to the way you are parenting him Maia. You won’t regret it.

Now, I know you have only stale bread on the counter and half a gallon of that oat milk left in your fridge. I know that you feed him fresh, organic raspberries and you only feed yourself some if there are any leftover. Stop that. Treat yourself right or else you won’t be here to help your future ancestors – his children – your grandchildren. You need to take care of you and trust me, the world needs you. Stop playing martyr mother and start focusing on your needs. I know I know you’re shaking your head saying, “How can I do this when I’m barely able to pay my bills?” This is the problem. Scarcity mind creates scarcity reality. I’m here to help you with this.

What would you do if you had $20,000? You would secure that home you’ve had your eye on so that he can live in a stable house from now until high school, right? You would finally get your engine flushed so that your car doesn’t smell like exhaust every time you pull up to a soccer game, forced to park away from his friends so you don’t embarrass him. You would buy him four pairs of pants, one in each size since he’s growing like a weed, and you should buy yourself a pair of real pants too. Not just those legging things you live in day in and day out. Buy an extra case of raspberries just for you okay? Buy a djembe drum and robot parts and create a magical environment where he can follow his passions freely. Splurge on organic cotton sheets so that you can lay your head alongside his blonde curls at the end of a long day and know that you're both breathing safe air. Get the water filter, so you can drink fresh water.

I know you would do all this, because I am you. And I’m here to get you $20,000 so you can do this.

Know this, your future self is abundant in all ways – emotionally, spiritually and financially. She’s cried and shook and screamed and healed. She’s gone to therapy and to the woods. She’s talked to Elders and mentors. She has lit candles and prayed and washed away the stress by dancing in the rain. She is whole and lifts everyone up around her. She circulates money into small businesses and mentors’ other young single moms on how to live in their truth. And she makes money doing it. You do not have to be scared of money Maia. You know that thing you fight for everyone else to have? You’re allowed to have it too. People just like you should have the money to be free, because in the process, I know you work to free so many others.

But here’s the catch. The money that I’m leaving for you comes with a challenge. You have to believe you deserve it. In order to believe that, you have to love yourself. I want you to spend the next 60 days doing everything you can to truly love and lift yourself up. Treat yourself like you would the dearest friend you have, the one whom you would do anything for. Buy yourself flowers. Turn on the music and dance with yourself. Pleasure yourself. Look in the mirror and say 100 times: I am here for you. I am here for you. I am here for you. Start and end everyday with gratitude.

By the end of the 60 days, if you are able to find this love within you, for you, the money will show up at your door. Just call me your future fairy Godmother. One day you'll understand.

Maia sat dumbfounded. While it seemed too good to be true, she felt this inner knowing that it didn’t matter. The message was clear. She needed to stop putting everyone else first all the time, thinking that this led her on some enlightened path…to what? To martyrdom? What if she could love herself more? What if she could love herself home?

For the next 60 days, the earth heaved and the sky moved as one woman came home to herself. She painted beautiful pictures just to paint. She wrote stories just to read her own writing. She danced in their tiny one-bedroom apartment, bumping into her son’s bunkbed as she went. She cried and ached and gave herself space to feel all of the sorrow that had been calling her for years. She bought herself flowers and a case of raspberries and ate all of them herself. She applied for grants to go to school and entered writing contests, finally allowing people to read her words. She was done hiding in the shadows. And when 59 days was up, she looked at herself in the mirror and said, “It doesn’t matter if anyone else is here for you. It doesn’t matter if money shows up at the door. What matters is that I remember how much I love you. I am here for you. I am here for you. I am here for you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.” And she went to sleep that night with peace in her heart and her little boy at her side. She knew that life was going to be okay.

In the morning, William woke before she did. He raced out to the living room to announce the time, his morning ritual. “The clock says 7….1….8…mama,” he spoke and then she heard silence. “Mom! There’s an envelope that someone left under the door!”

Groggy, Maia rose slowly, remembering that today was Day 60. Could it really be true? She went to the door and opened the envelope.

A cheque for $20,000 fell onto the floor. She picked it up and read the name on it. It was from a writing contest she had entered just two weeks ago, forty-six days after she found the little black book.

All along, it was her.

She remembered herself home.