When you were raising me, I'm pretty sure I viewed Mother's Day as a kind of yearly atonement for my generally unbridled sense of entitlement, my voracious consumption of parental resources, and the liberal behavioral latitude I typically allowed myself.
I actually remember congratulating myself on giving you one whole day of respite from my normal self.
Sure, I did my part to honor you by presenting you with the picture I drew in Sunday School and the lopsided clay pot I painstakingly formed, fired, and glazed in my elementary school art class. I also remember collaborating with Danny to make you breakfast and to be extra careful to be good and grateful, and to not argue with him in front of you for an entire day.
And for these efforts, I paid myself back in smug, self-congratulatory spades.
Thank you for graciously not remembering how selfish I really was.
As so often happens, age has brought clarity to the situation, and now I am overwhelmed with embarrassment for my childhood immaturity, and gratitude for the job you did and continue to do as my mother.
Here are just a few of the things I appreciate about you, in no particular order.
Here are just a few of the things I appreciate about you, in no particular order.
1) You are a relentless thinker.
You taught me to love ideas and to search out answers to my questions, to not accept the sound bite or the majority opinion without doing my own research, and to filter everything through the grid of God's word. Period.
When I was young, I did not always appreciate your reminders to ask myself what message the music or the book or the movie of the day was trying to sell me, but now I can see that ideas are not neutral ground. You taught me the importance of worldview, that everyone has a religion, that truth is discoverable, and that much of life is about sorting out and analyzing the ideas which flow around us continuously.
Fun stuff, but you have to be awake for it! Thank you for teaching me to recognize and be attentive to the important things in life.
You taught me to love ideas and to search out answers to my questions, to not accept the sound bite or the majority opinion without doing my own research, and to filter everything through the grid of God's word. Period.
When I was young, I did not always appreciate your reminders to ask myself what message the music or the book or the movie of the day was trying to sell me, but now I can see that ideas are not neutral ground. You taught me the importance of worldview, that everyone has a religion, that truth is discoverable, and that much of life is about sorting out and analyzing the ideas which flow around us continuously.
Fun stuff, but you have to be awake for it! Thank you for teaching me to recognize and be attentive to the important things in life.
2) People are worth it.
You showed me what it looks like to be a fierce defender of the voiceless, the helpless, the weak, the abandoned, the abused, the ones trapped in material poverty and in poverty of spirit.
You showed me what it looks like to be a fierce defender of the voiceless, the helpless, the weak, the abandoned, the abused, the ones trapped in material poverty and in poverty of spirit.
So many of my memories of you involve the people you blessed with your time and your talents. You took us to hard places. You cared for hard people. You poured unconditional love on folks who didn't even know what love looked like, and so sometimes they lashed out or took advantage of you or held out their bottomless cups for more without even thinking to say "thanks".
I remember you being wise and good in your dealings with them, and taking the time to explain to me why you were going to continue to give in certain places and why you were waiting on others. You were soft where it mattered, and hard when firmness was the kindest thing.
You may not have known how closely I was watching, but I was. I learned from you to see the image of God in every human being, and to love Him by loving them.
I remember you being wise and good in your dealings with them, and taking the time to explain to me why you were going to continue to give in certain places and why you were waiting on others. You were soft where it mattered, and hard when firmness was the kindest thing.
You may not have known how closely I was watching, but I was. I learned from you to see the image of God in every human being, and to love Him by loving them.
3) Hard work is a blessing.
I never knew you to not be involved in a major project--never at the expense of us, but alongside us. You ripped up and refinished our floors, you painted and papered, you fixed broken furniture, organized messes, created warm, inviting spaces out of barren rooms, preserved, restored, planted, watered, and harvested. You drove equipment and made big farm meals, hosted friends and strangers alike at a moment's notice, burned fields, and cleaned out barns.
And you found JOY in the work of your hands.
I never knew you to not be involved in a major project--never at the expense of us, but alongside us. You ripped up and refinished our floors, you painted and papered, you fixed broken furniture, organized messes, created warm, inviting spaces out of barren rooms, preserved, restored, planted, watered, and harvested. You drove equipment and made big farm meals, hosted friends and strangers alike at a moment's notice, burned fields, and cleaned out barns.
And you found JOY in the work of your hands.
I remember you worrying that you had been too immersed in projects when we were growing up, but all I remember is a pretty, dark-haired mama who had a remarkable ability to get things done, but always had time for a conversation or a bike ride or a picnic at the field where Dad was working.
Thank you for helping me see that the purpose of work is not to get you to the next vacation, but rather to bring order and beauty to your beloveds in the right here and right now .
Thank you for helping me see that the purpose of work is not to get you to the next vacation, but rather to bring order and beauty to your beloveds in the right here and right now .
4) God is first.
This was so much a part of our lives that it almost never occurred to me that life could be otherwise. Our family way was to care about God's word, God's ways, God's people, and God's creation. There wasn't a sphere of life from which He was excluded.
We were taught to love God in our language, honor Him in the entertainment and activities we engaged in, and consider Him in the ordering of our days. His love and care and beauty came up in conversation. His people were family. His house felt like home. This deep, abiding sense of the lordship and friendship of God has grounded me and given me peace.
Because of this, it was as natural as breathing to transfer those habits into my own home and to speak in the language of grace when Jamey and I were married. I feel we don't always manage to do it as well as you and dad did, but we strive to!
This was so much a part of our lives that it almost never occurred to me that life could be otherwise. Our family way was to care about God's word, God's ways, God's people, and God's creation. There wasn't a sphere of life from which He was excluded.
We were taught to love God in our language, honor Him in the entertainment and activities we engaged in, and consider Him in the ordering of our days. His love and care and beauty came up in conversation. His people were family. His house felt like home. This deep, abiding sense of the lordship and friendship of God has grounded me and given me peace.
Because of this, it was as natural as breathing to transfer those habits into my own home and to speak in the language of grace when Jamey and I were married. I feel we don't always manage to do it as well as you and dad did, but we strive to!
5) Life is not about me.
You taught me this in two ways.
First, you showed me that life was not about YOU. You are one of the most accomplished women I know. You speak knowledgeably about a wide range of topics. You are well read and interested in everything. You are a gifted writer and a talented seamstress. You have a shrewd mind for business, an incredible knack for organizing, a tireless work ethic, and a talent for hospitality. You are a gifted teacher, an adept money manager, a wise counselor, a devoted wife, and a loving mother, but even with all these gifts and talents, you have never sought to bring attention to yourself. You are no diva. In fact, when I think of our childhood, I picture you as always there, but always in the supporting role, never in the spotlight.
And you were content to have it so, rejoicing in the successes of your friends and family, and (hopefully) celebrating off stage in the quietness of your heart.
Secondly, you let us live under "NO" when it was best. "No, you may not inconvenience your family to engage in selfish fun."
"No, you may not shirk your responsibilities."
"No, you may not live unkindly/beyond your means/at the expense of others/immodestly/against what you say you believe/wastefully/arrogantly/deceitfully/self-indulgently/hypocritically."
And of course, I tried sometimes. And it would have been easier for you to just smile and let me have my way, but you were willing to be the iron that sharpens iron. You stood up with clear eyes and reminded me of who I had said I wanted to be, and to Whom I belonged, and you asked me to line up my actions and my words, even when it made sparks and heat and tears.
Thank you for reminding me that I am not the queen of the universe, and for helping me remember my place in, and my responsibility to the community of souls, for the glory of my true King.
You taught me this in two ways.
First, you showed me that life was not about YOU. You are one of the most accomplished women I know. You speak knowledgeably about a wide range of topics. You are well read and interested in everything. You are a gifted writer and a talented seamstress. You have a shrewd mind for business, an incredible knack for organizing, a tireless work ethic, and a talent for hospitality. You are a gifted teacher, an adept money manager, a wise counselor, a devoted wife, and a loving mother, but even with all these gifts and talents, you have never sought to bring attention to yourself. You are no diva. In fact, when I think of our childhood, I picture you as always there, but always in the supporting role, never in the spotlight.
And you were content to have it so, rejoicing in the successes of your friends and family, and (hopefully) celebrating off stage in the quietness of your heart.
Secondly, you let us live under "NO" when it was best. "No, you may not inconvenience your family to engage in selfish fun."
"No, you may not shirk your responsibilities."
"No, you may not live unkindly/beyond your means/at the expense of others/immodestly/against what you say you believe/wastefully/arrogantly/deceitfully/self-indulgently/hypocritically."
And of course, I tried sometimes. And it would have been easier for you to just smile and let me have my way, but you were willing to be the iron that sharpens iron. You stood up with clear eyes and reminded me of who I had said I wanted to be, and to Whom I belonged, and you asked me to line up my actions and my words, even when it made sparks and heat and tears.
Thank you for reminding me that I am not the queen of the universe, and for helping me remember my place in, and my responsibility to the community of souls, for the glory of my true King.
5) Encouragement is as essential as air.
If I had not seen that you were my biggest ally and my greatest fan, I probably would not have allowed you to hold me accountable the way you did (and do).
I never for one second doubted that you loved me more than your own life. You cheered me at every concert, game, and performance. You listened to every silly fear, applauded my little successes, held me through my failures. You told me I was designed and valued by God. You showed me that no matter what I accomplished, I was enough in your eyes.
You still show me. You still tell me you are proud of me. You talk me through my parenting failures. You still put your own life on hold in order to bless your children. You pass out my writings to strangers at McDonald's (😏). You continuously remind me of my worth to God and to you, and this gives me wings.
If I had not seen that you were my biggest ally and my greatest fan, I probably would not have allowed you to hold me accountable the way you did (and do).
I never for one second doubted that you loved me more than your own life. You cheered me at every concert, game, and performance. You listened to every silly fear, applauded my little successes, held me through my failures. You told me I was designed and valued by God. You showed me that no matter what I accomplished, I was enough in your eyes.
You still show me. You still tell me you are proud of me. You talk me through my parenting failures. You still put your own life on hold in order to bless your children. You pass out my writings to strangers at McDonald's (😏). You continuously remind me of my worth to God and to you, and this gives me wings.
6) Love is an action.
You are not one for sloppy sentimentality. Words of affirmation is not your particular love language. Although you do say, "I love you", more often you show "I love you".
This was such an important lesson for me growing up. I am good with words, but where I needed your example was in the daily, mundane, selfless, often thankless acts of service that whisper, "my life for yours."
John 15:13 says, "Greater love has no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends." This is more than words. It is what God did for us, and what we are called to do for others.
It is what you do for dad. It is what you did for your mother as you cared for her so beautifully for the last eight years of her life. It is what you do for your circle of friends. It is what you did and continue to do for Dan and me and our families. And because I have seen how beautiful it is, it is what I want to do too.
7) Marriage is meant to be forever.
One of the great gifts you and dad gave Dan and me was the security of your marriage. You loved us, but you loved each other first. We knew your relationship went beyond feeling (although you nurture and enjoy that aspect of your marriage) into a bedrock commitment to God that would last as long as your lives did--which is why when you and dad had differences of opinion (which I am glad we sometimes got to see), we did not fear that it would bring an end to our family.
Watching you work through occasional conflict was actually a very reassuring thing because it showed us that a successful marriage did not depend on choosing someone who would think exactly like we did on every issue, but rather on choosing a person whose ultimate loyalty went past any feelings we could inspire in them, all the way down to the eternal moorings of their love for and fear of the Lord.
Thank you for painting a picture of the everlasting love between Christ and His church in your marriage. I appreciate the sacrificial protection that Dad offers you. I appreciate the nurturing place of honor that you offer Dad. I love watching you serve one another. I love that you have not run out of things to talk about, that you enjoy each other's company, and that you still sharpen each other after all these years. Your marriage has been a model for Jamey's and mine and we both honor you for the example you have set.
8) Honesty is invaluable.
I am glad you were not one of those moms who only ever told their children that they were the most wonderful, beautiful, talented, brilliant, golden examples of their species ever to grace the planet. I would have seen through that in a second because even at a young age, I knew it wasn't true.
Children are not idiots, and you never treated us like that. This is not to say that you withheld praise where praise was due. You didn't (seen point #5). But neither did you puff us up with exaggerations and half truths.
I knew that what you said to me, good or bad, could be trusted. This does not mean that either of us thought you were infallible in your knowledge and assessment of a situation, but I did know that you were going to give me your best observations and opinions after careful thought, and that I could trust you for that.
This is why I still go to you when I want to cut through the haze of my own thinking. At best, you will have a well-reasoned solution. At worst, you will give me another perspective to consider.
Either way, I will have your honest opinion, which in this world of smoke-blowing, flattery, and half-baked tweets, is worth its weight in gold.
You are not one for sloppy sentimentality. Words of affirmation is not your particular love language. Although you do say, "I love you", more often you show "I love you".
This was such an important lesson for me growing up. I am good with words, but where I needed your example was in the daily, mundane, selfless, often thankless acts of service that whisper, "my life for yours."
John 15:13 says, "Greater love has no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends." This is more than words. It is what God did for us, and what we are called to do for others.
It is what you do for dad. It is what you did for your mother as you cared for her so beautifully for the last eight years of her life. It is what you do for your circle of friends. It is what you did and continue to do for Dan and me and our families. And because I have seen how beautiful it is, it is what I want to do too.
7) Marriage is meant to be forever.
One of the great gifts you and dad gave Dan and me was the security of your marriage. You loved us, but you loved each other first. We knew your relationship went beyond feeling (although you nurture and enjoy that aspect of your marriage) into a bedrock commitment to God that would last as long as your lives did--which is why when you and dad had differences of opinion (which I am glad we sometimes got to see), we did not fear that it would bring an end to our family.
Watching you work through occasional conflict was actually a very reassuring thing because it showed us that a successful marriage did not depend on choosing someone who would think exactly like we did on every issue, but rather on choosing a person whose ultimate loyalty went past any feelings we could inspire in them, all the way down to the eternal moorings of their love for and fear of the Lord.
Thank you for painting a picture of the everlasting love between Christ and His church in your marriage. I appreciate the sacrificial protection that Dad offers you. I appreciate the nurturing place of honor that you offer Dad. I love watching you serve one another. I love that you have not run out of things to talk about, that you enjoy each other's company, and that you still sharpen each other after all these years. Your marriage has been a model for Jamey's and mine and we both honor you for the example you have set.
8) Honesty is invaluable.
I am glad you were not one of those moms who only ever told their children that they were the most wonderful, beautiful, talented, brilliant, golden examples of their species ever to grace the planet. I would have seen through that in a second because even at a young age, I knew it wasn't true.
Children are not idiots, and you never treated us like that. This is not to say that you withheld praise where praise was due. You didn't (seen point #5). But neither did you puff us up with exaggerations and half truths.
I knew that what you said to me, good or bad, could be trusted. This does not mean that either of us thought you were infallible in your knowledge and assessment of a situation, but I did know that you were going to give me your best observations and opinions after careful thought, and that I could trust you for that.
This is why I still go to you when I want to cut through the haze of my own thinking. At best, you will have a well-reasoned solution. At worst, you will give me another perspective to consider.
Either way, I will have your honest opinion, which in this world of smoke-blowing, flattery, and half-baked tweets, is worth its weight in gold.
9) Children should be addressed like sentient beings, not like baby animals.
This is not to say that you never chirped and cooed over your babies and mine. You did. But you also started conversing with us all at a very young age.
I remember you taking a walk around our back yard with baby Isaiah (a.k.a. Jack-Jack) just after one of his 8 hour, volcanic, no-holds-barred kickboxing matches against normal night-time sleep habits. He was exhausted. I was exhausted. Neither of us understood each other and we were both out of words for the situation.
You scooped him up in his quivering, red-faced, wild-haired state, and began explaining the morning to him in a soft, mature cadence. You talked about the leaves and the trees. You told him about wind and sunlight. You told him how much he would enjoy growing and running with his brother and sisters, and you sympathized with his frustration over being so tiny in such a big place. And he just watched your face and was quiet and comforted.
Your words about children being able to understand a lot more than we give them credit for has also rung true in the lives of my children from hard places. I have remembered how you spoke to me about big things at a young age--gently, but honestly--and I have tried to do the same thing with my little ones who are trying so hard to contextualize their trauma and loss.
I think that honest, open, dialogue has great power at any age, and I credit you with teaching me this.
10) We do not need to fear the future.
One day I want to be able to rest in the face of the unknown like I see you do. I want to not be paralyzed by my fears over my own future or by fears over the paths my children may take. I know this ability has come over time, but I also know it comes through prayer and practice. Prayer first, but also:
Practice at giving the reins of our lives back to God (who holds them anyway) and trusting Him with the end results.
Practice at holding our plans loosely (which you have said comes via loss and uncertainty).
Practice at letting go of outcomes for other people (which you remind me we have no power over anyway).
Practice at loving God for God's sake and not for what He does for us (which gets easier as He proves Himself faithful over a lifetime).
I am most grateful that you have taught me that my future rests safely in God's hands, and that because of that, my future with you has no end either. I am grateful for our years here on earth, and even more grateful for the years we will one day share in eternity.
Thank you for being such a special mom, such a wonderful role model to me and to my children, and such a good friend. I love you!
--S
