Beyond A Mother’s Life

This time of year is the season that always brings me thoughts of my sweet Mother.  I was only 40 when she left this earth, but for the couple of weeks around Mother’s Day and her birthday or near the time we lost her or holiday seasons, I get reflective.  It’s hard.  I understand the need to establish your own home and boundaries, cut apron strings and let your parents be empty nesters.  Balance is important.  I applaud that.  And I did that well.  She taught me the ability to establish my own home.  To not rely on her.  To make decisions with my husband without interference or control or suggestions of what we “should or shouldn’t do”.  She supported and celebrated my decision making and my marriage. Giving my husband a glance that they both understood.  And with that “leaving and cleaving” perhaps that’s how focus of our relationship dimmed.  Or support of hers lost. 

So many things I would have liked to have shared and understood.  And in all fairness, each year I find myself at a different age and stage of conversations with her.  Each year bringing new questions, reflections and things that I would love to know.  So, I have those conversations with her, though one sided now.  Things like, “I’m sorry for not focusing more on you on special days and holidays” always is present on her birthday and Mother’s Day.  I get it.  Raising little ones creates focus on them and not on a single Mom with all her five children having flown the nest.  Balancing in-laws that are five minutes away keeps that side of the family happy; but, may have put conversations and visits with her 45 minutes away on “out of sight/out of mind” mode. 

So, Mom, I would have loved to have learned more of what was on your heart or your views on things and why. I would love to have cooked alongside of you and written down each step and ingredient to duplicate dishes that are lost.  I would have loved to have sat on the couch with you and learned to crochet from you and with you.  I would have put on a movie to watch so we could share laughter.  I would have brought you ice cream and snicker bars and perhaps even more panty hose for your supplies for your job with your clients.  I would have traveled to England and Scotland WITH you, not just sending you there to create memories together.  I would have tried to keep up with you more on the golf course. But most of all, I would have taken time to hear your heart and let you hear mine.  Time that can’t happen now that I can only yearn to happen.  Conversations about a quilt grandmother made that has a random block with baby things…that took me to research a wedding date for her and then find out she had lost a baby.  I would have asked if you knew.  I would have asked more family history questions.  More questions about my Daddy who died when I was 17.  More questions of growing older or being young.  Just a word to those of you who have parents living.  Don’t take them for granted.  Have meaningful conversations.  Make lists of questions that you may want to know after they are gone—then ask them.  Spend leisure time with them.  Have them tell you stories about anything they want to tell you.  And listen.  Intentionally listen.  Cell phones down.  Undistracted.  Give them that gift.  Remind them of their importance to you.  Honor them with thoughtful gifts, heart gifts.  That are most meaningful because they came from you.  Recognize their strengths and celebrate them.  Give them credit where credit is due.  Realize their weaknesses and give them grace.  Understand and appreciate their wisdom, life experiences, and faith.  Honor them in ways that demonstrate your love and loyalty. Were there things that I didn’t understand? Absolutely.  Things that annoyed me? Things I just couldn’t figure out? Yes.  But, I would attempt to look beyond, dig deeper, and love more freely.  Embrace them and be present in their lives.  Even if briefly.  And more often. 

Until we meet again, Mother–then we will sit with feet under that table and share all that we need to share there.  And perhaps, all those questions that I had here really won’t matter at all.  Just time with you, celebrating Jesus, at a table, together.

Embrace time with them.  I promise you won’t regret it.  And trust me, neither will they.