“What do you mean, you can’t find the package?!” My ever so slightly raised voice (actually, my kids would say “oh, s&%$, look out – that’s her 
LOUD voice”) demanded of the whispering customer service agent of (temporarily, I’m sure) Uncoordinated Parcel Dis-Service. Likely she was speaking as loudly as she could. As my body was already in sympathetic stress mode, my hearing was picking up all sorts of things both there and not there. Meaning, everything my ears detected was being amplified. In this case, the fact that our phone connection was not clear. At least to me.
As a new military mom, this now-lost package sent to my son at his latest base was the catalyst for my feeling powerless and thus clearly overreacting. It represented a lifeline from me to him, not unlike the umbilical cord that once attached us some 28 years ago. And as can happen with all cords, kinks had arisen.
I was asked the estimated value. “It’s priceless” I (admittedly) snarled. “My son is in the military and he’s protecting this country from all terrorists both foreign and domestic” (his oath of service). While not technically true yet, I suppose – he’s awaiting his next rate and orders – he’s still the property of the United States and they can send him pretty much wherever they want. “Yes, ma’am”, the sweet voice on the other end conceded – “I understand”. “What was in the package?”
“His favorite muffins and Halloween candy”, I curtly stated in response. (You may LOL at this point if you like – I won’t mind). “Do you understand how important it is to me that he get this small token of my love for him because he’s not going to be home for some time?” This last I didn’t speak out loud because at that moment I understood something far more meaningful. I wasn’t in control of that package from the moment it left my hands. Just as I wasn’t in control of my son’s life and hadn’t been for quite some time. In reality, from the moment he left my body and entered the Earth on his own he wasn’t mine any longer. As part of the Earth experience illusion, it had seemed like he had been mine for a precious short and sweet amount of time.
My body was telling me that it didn’t like arguing. Asking for information that just wasn’t available from people who likely had stretched and knotted heart strings themselves attached to perhaps distant loved ones didn’t feel like a healthy choice. For anyone involved in the situation. I didn’t want to be part of adding even indirectly to this contagious stress thing between us all.
And so, I let go. Of the package to be sure. Muffins and Halloween candy can be replaced and sent via another service. Letting go also means I’m rearranging this lifeline between my son and I, so that it’s still pliable and expandable in all new and (exciting to him, terrifying for me) ways. Because that’s what Love does. It asks that you rise to the challenge and meet whatever is coming with vulnerability and strength. Moving forward with Heart open and aware, more muffins and Halloween candy at the ready.