It
is Mother’s Day and I just want to say I love you. Not because it is a day I am supposed to do
that, but because I sincerely want you to know that I do. When I reflect on what I remember from my
upbringing, I am grateful for your devotion to me as a daughter. But, when I think a little deeper, turning the
viewer around and looking at our lives from your angle, I can make out a picture
of the love you gave to me.
From
my perspective as a grown woman who has had open opportunity, I cannot imagine
what it must have been like to finish high school, get married, and bear a baby
girl, all by the age of 19. How terrified
you must have been when your infant experienced her first seizure in what was
to become a frustrating 5-year quest to find out what was wrong and what to do. I remember only glimpses from that era, so I wonder
how many nights you laid by my bed watching for problems, fearing the worst. How many times did you rush to the emergency
room with an unresponsive baby, wondering if you had waited too long? You weren’t even 25 yet. I cannot fathom how you managed it.
I
am sure I was a handful as a young child.
Today, as a busy adult, I am so grateful for the innate but excess
energy I have always experienced. But in
the days of my childhood, there were no medications to calm overactive little minds,
and you had to deal with mine every hour of every day. I clearly remember being the only girl in 1st,
2nd and 3rd grades to have the distinction of being
paddled in the principal’s office, simply because I could not keep from
disrupting class with my constant uncontrollable talking and activity. You taught me that I had to respect school
authority, and that your authority was united with theirs. But, you also searched for ways to think
outside the box to help control my hyperactivity and point my energies in a
positive direction. You weren’t even 30 years
old, you had no training in childhood development, yet you understood that I had
brains and potential that needed to be harnessed and managed and directed. Thank you for that.
I
still have the letters you wrote to me in college, all addressed “Go Get ‘Em,
Tiger”. Anyone else who reads them may
not get it, but you had watched me enliven crowds wearing a furry striped mascot
suit in high school and never let me forget I was just that - a Tiger at
heart. I realize now, when you reflect
on how “difficult” my college years were, that I only called home when I was at
my lowest. Whether it was a hardhearted professor,
unrequited love, or just plain homesickness, it was then that your reassuring words
were needed most. But, Mom, my college days
were actually pretty great, with loads of friends and fond memories remaining from
them. So, I regret that I only shared
the tough times with you, but I am also very appreciative that you were always
there at the other end of the telephone line.
And
now I am grown, you are aging, and we are dancing the step where who leads and
who follows is unclear. Yet, I am clear
on this: I am what I am because of your
love, and I will always strive to follow my God’s commandment to honor
you. Happy Mother’s Day.
