A Memory

Some people have a gift of capturing beauty in photographs. Others capture beauty through their words. My friend Shelly is gifted in both. In today’s post, Shelly paints a beautiful memory with her words.

A memory:

On our way home from Dallas today, we stopped at a Wendy’s. After we sat down, a middle-aged man entered with a tiny, elderly woman. He gently guided her to the line and showed her the menu board. He carried her small purse, handles frayed, to a table and went back to retrieve her and their trays.

He helped her unwrap her food and made several trips to gather the extras for their meal.

Her back was to me, but his merry eyes lit up each time she said something. I crossed near them to dispose of my trash and I saw him reach across the table and pat her cheek gently. “Mom, you’re such a beauty. I hope you know that, ” he told her.

She smiled and dabbed her mouth as she nodded her head slightly. He steadied her shaky hand when she pulled the fork upward for another bite.

I had to stop. “You two…it’s wonderful.”

He grinned. “Well, she’s still my best girl, aren’t you, Mom? Even though you’re 94, we still enjoy our dates, don’t we?”

She nodded and her eyes crinkled softly as she patted his hand.

I don’t know what their story was before, or where the road led them after, but in that moment, they were perfection. Pure, righteous, holy.

contributed by Shelly Smith Morales

 

The Other Mother

Happy Mother’s Day!

Since Mother’s Day was yesterday, it might seem as though I am late in wishing all the Moms Happy Mother’s Day. But truth be told, motherhood should be celebrated every day.

The card I sent my daughter on Mother’s Day reminded me of this: The outside of the card was optimistic: It’s mothers day and you have earned a quiet, relaxing, unstressful day. The inside of the card was realistic: You may not get, it but you sure deserve it.

Being a mom is not easy, but it is rewarding. In the midst of dirty diapers, peanut butter and jelly smeared faces, and unwelcome Crayola art exhibits on the walls, are toothless smiles, lots of impromptu hugs and kisses, and wilted bouquets of floral weeds snatched from the ground-just for Mom.

As a young mom with four children under six years of age, I often remember feeling more like a mother duck trying to keep my ducklings in line than feeling like a woman with true needs and desires. Most days I celebrated my children. I taught them, played with them, sang with them and prayed with them. But then there were those days when I felt like the worst mother on the face of the earth. I wanted to run away. Those were the days when my last bit of patience was gone, and I had to force myself to be kind. Those were the days when I wanted to wring my children’s necks instead of hugging them.

I loved my children dearly. I still do. But when I was raising them I often found myself scolding them more than celebrating them.  Sometimes, when I was singing them to sleep, I would think about the times I had lost my temper and yelled at them, and feared that I was going to permanently damage them.  Instead of being the mother I so desperately wanted to be, I feared I was becoming other mother –the one I was afraid of exposing. The mother full of fear and frustration, who merely survived each day.

Yesterday, I had the privilege of hearing from my four amazing children.  I am happy to say that through the grace of God, in spite of all of my shortcomings, they all survived me and are doing quite well. I also had the privilege of reading some of my mother’s journals. I loved my Mom and am thankful for her. She taught us about Jesus, sang to us, and invested her time and talents in her family. She was a prayer warrior. She was an amazing woman, but like the rest of us, she was not perfect. I saw incredible strength in my mother. But I also saw fear, confusion, and enabling-all things to which she wouldn’t admit.

As I read mom’s journals, I got to know my mother through different lenses-not through the eyes of a child with lots of questions, but through the eyes of a fellow mother, who had traveled the road of raising children in the midst of difficult situations. Mom’s struggles, her fears, and her frustrations opened my eyes to the other mother I had not known. The mother whose spoken words often didn’t acknowledge what was going on in her heart. The woman whose faith and trust was challenged just like the rest of us. The woman who adored her children, but also was, at times, overwhelmed. The woman who in a lot of ways was just like me.

Reading Mom’s journals, brought back memories from my childhood. Her journals also gave me clarity and answered some questions I have had for many years. I realized that most, if not all mothers, have another side they don’t share with their children. For some, it may be the hurt little girl they are hiding. For others, it might be the person they are afraid of becoming. Being introduced to my mom’s other mother reminded me of my own journey.

If you sometimes feel like a failure at motherhood, realize that you are not alone. Being a mother is not easy. But it is rewarding. You have nothing to fear. God knows all your thoughts. He loves you! He sees the mother you are on the outside and He knows about all your fears, frustrations, and questions on the inside. And He understands both. Embrace the Lord and embrace motherhood. You don’t have to be perfect. Jesus is the only perfect one. Just keep your eyes on Jesus and walk with Him daily in the beautiful journey He has blessed you with. The journey of motherhood.

May you be abundantly blessed!

Jeannie