We’d like to give you a gift tonight/ To tell you we love you/ And that you are God’s gift to us/ and we’ll always honor you.// You let me know you love me/ In so many different ways. You make me feel important/ With encouragement and praise.// You’re always there when I need you/ To comfort and to care.// I know I’m in your thoughts;/ Your love follows me everywhere.
You help me do the best I can/ To be kind and good and true/ You show what true love is/ In all you say and do.// You’re patient when I’m not so good/ And correct me like a good Mom would/ And when we hug and make up then/ The fun can begin again.// And when you’re mean and grumpy/ And I’m mean and grumpy too/ You always say you’re sorry/ And I try to say it too.
Two years ago I attended their father- daughter Valentine’s banquet, but tonight’s mother daughter tea at Victory Life Church was new for me. In November I (finally) responded affirmatively to a plea for a teacher for the first and second grade girls, so each Weds. night I show up and at least try to provide a fun (safe) balance of fun and relative productivity, albeit some weeks more valiantly than others.
We’ve had a few snow days in the last few weeks, but two classes ago we made no bake cookies complete with peanut butter and honey and 50 very sticky fingers, and yet the walls got to stay their respective colors (ones pink, there’s a blue, etc..), the little brown smudge on the faucet was gone before anyone noticed (as far as I know) and all went well.
Last week on the other hand… One of the guys in my young adult group just looked at my wide somewhat glazed eyes following them back from the bathroom and gave the friendly advice of keeping them under control.
Easier said than done- let’s just say I came home praying against sextuplets.
Image by dbarronoss via Flickr
& yet it’s been done. More than once.
Graciously, willingly, with mistakes and oops moments
and moments that cause every mother to laugh when she hears the words “…and I’m mean and grumpy too” simply because it’s true.
It’s impossible to stay on top of the game 24/7.
It really is okay. We understand, or will.
Nobody’s equal to you, Mom. With you in my life, I’m blessed.
It goes on of course (this is actually something my Mom wrote/ compiled when I asked her last minute help on preparing something for the girls to present to their mothers) but I have to stop here. ‘With you in my life, I’m blessed’.
Chris Fabry was talking this afternoon about the tinge of jealousy one unable to conceive might receive from hearing/ seeing something as simple as a status update announcing that a couple is expecting. He might have gone on had I finished the program, but I see that concept digging farther and deeper into almost spastic twitches of, jealousy yes, but more so of pain. Pure sorrow at a continual reminder that, for some, such a simple well-intentioned statement no longer rings true.
Tonight I sat next to a girl who’s mother was sick and could not come.
Last week I cried with a friend who’s mother did not seem sick.
If this was 750words.com they’d mark off another ‘distraction’ simply because the cursor just stops, blinking.impatiently. I keep interrupting its steady pulse in order to scroll up just to stare at the increasingly blurry intro pic of Mom and I- a test for a new cell a few years ago. An impromptu just because I wanna see if this thing works type picture. It wasn’t a fancy phone- I’m not quite sure how I got it off and obviously the quality is not that high, but its the only one I have and I know full well that I’m lucky to have it- that not every one has, or has ever had, that chance to wrap her arms around someone who won’t pull back.
I was in my PJs– so not presentable, but this picture bypasses all that and is by far my most treasured. It’s been the profile for my missions blog (valerielong.myadventures.org) for 2 years now and I still can’t help but stare, knowing that regardless of miles or time, that love is and will continue to be real, even long after I have received my last perfect sized hug.
I love you so, and I want you to know/ I think you’re the very best!
Not every mother will spend her entire morning bailing [me] out [again] but even though I know each mom is different and different people remember the person by that name very, very differently, I still think there’s an innate sense that causes us, lets us, look up to her. Maybe nobody went by that name but there is always someone who could fit the bill. Wonderful, gentle, yet so strong. / The many ways you show you care/ Always make me feel I belong.
I can’t pretend to know, conocer, be intimately familiar and related to and involved with the full extent of the pain of not having her, a her, around.
Even so, especially so, I want to be that woman.
I’ve seen this lived out- your kids my kids, it makes no difference. She loves them all. I want to be the lady who hugs a crying stranger in the hall and the one who can be described by at least most of a child’s Valentine’s Day poem.
You are kind when I am foolish;/ You give guidance when I ask;/ It seems you can do most anything;/ You’re the master of every task.// You’re a faithful source of comfort; You’re my cushion when I fall. You help in times of trouble; You support me whenever I call.// I love you more than you know; You have my total respect. If I had my choice of mothers, You’d be the one I’d select!// Thank you for all you’ve done/ And given so generously./ I love you, my wonderful mother;/ You’re a heaven- sent blessing to me.
Whether or not you realize it, you might very well be that person and there are people who are and want to be and will continue to be that for you.