Dear Mom

This year marks the 42nd Mother’s Day I’ll be celebrating my mom, and there are only so many bottles of perfume, flower bouquets, candles, bathrobes, books and handmade gifts you can give a woman before it starts to feel like it’s all been done before (because it has). Stories from my childhood, many involving my mother, have proven to be excellent fodder for my writing over the years, and she’s been a great sport about it, so this Mother’s Day I’m saying thank you with more than a gift (but don’t worry Mom, you still get one of those too). Thanks for being my number one fan, reader, and follower Mom. Your support means everything to me.

Dear Mom,

Of all the seasons we’ve walked through together, I dare say this is my favorite. Now that I’m grown and have a family of my own, I love learning who you are beyond your role of motherhood. It feels like there’s more space now for me to witness your life as yours. While you are the same woman I’ve always known, I enjoy seeing you find new interests and uncover passions that fell dormant at the expense of raising Nate and me. I love hanging your paintings on my wall, products of creative gifts I saw only glimpses of growing up. I watch in admiration as you embrace being a Lola, a mentor, and a volunteer, while remaining a steadfast wife, sister, and friend. You are so many things to so many people and yet you are still wholly you: mediator, inspired creator, generous giver, patient, purposeful, pursuer of peace for your anxious heart and courageous seeker of confidence over your insecurities.

There’s been time now to ask you things I never had the courage to ask before about your past, your pain, and the source of your strength. Your path to becoming a mom was riddled with heartbreak and loss, unfathomable to me but no less awe-inspiring. Thank you for extending me the privilege of knowing your story, for trusting me with your truth and for understanding that who I am has much to do with who you are. I’m grateful for your vulnerability when I ask you “Why?” and “How?” you managed certain challenges of motherhood. In this season I’m seeing you not just as my mom but a mom, one I can link arms with and soldier alongside because we’re in this together. Thank you for extending your wisdom and hard fought experience to me as I navigate terrain you’ve long since overcome. I live for the full circle moments that have occurred so often lately.

I often worry about my kids, particularly in challenging seasons when they are willfully disobedient, seriously lacking in self control or gratitude, exhibiting patterns of dishonesty, or their behavior borders on sociopathy. I worry they’ll never get on the right track, that I’ll sooner see them behind bars than in a graduation gown. But then I remember that I was all those things too, for much if not all of my childhood (and okay, well into my teen years and, alright fine, even into adulthood), and I still turned out alright, because I had a mom who was steadfast in her love, and who never stopped praying for me.

I’ll likely never run out of things to apologize to you for. I’ve been told my whole life that I cried and screamed so much as an infant I gave myself laringitis. That should have been your first indicator I would not be an easy daughter to raise. Mom, I’m sorry for all the deception, disrespect, slammed doors, eye rolls, stealing, dishonesty, smart mouthing, vindictiveness, entitlement, sulking, selfishness and the ongoing DRAMA I filled your world with for, let’s round it off to at least twenty-five years, give or take. Thank you for allowing me to start each day fresh, for listening without judgement and for never saying “I told you so,” no matter how much I deserved to hear it. I’m trying so hard to be the kind of mom to Providence and Justice that you were to me.

I recognize now all the ways you kept showing up for me when I was anything but grateful. I’ll be honest, I don’t remember many of the words you said, but I remember what you did. I remember the way you held my hair back when my stomach was upset, and the relief I felt knowing you’d be waiting in the kitchen for me every day when I got home from school. I remember the stickers and festive treats you put in my lunchbag and your face in the stands at every single one of my softball games. I remember your faithful attendance at all my piano recitals and the way your steady hand applied my makeup before school dances. I remember tagging along with you as you ran errands and the way you’d unwrap a stick of DoubleMint gum from your purse and split in half to share with me. I remember you shuttled me around to all the things every day without complaint, and even though I never admitted it, I really liked it when you sang along to the radio. I remember you let me make the cookie dough and eat it raw against your better judgement. You permitted me to play the Mariah Carey cd for the hundredth time and kept quiet when I wore only grey for a month straight. You patiently endured my hours of karaoke singing and piano practice. You allowed me into the kitchen with you and you gave me freedom to fail. You gave your blessing for me to take the trips, even to countries you’d never been, and to go on adventures and be as independent as I dared to be. I didn’t give you many reasons to trust me but you did anyway. You understood my need to do things myself and you let me go every time. Thank you for never holding me back, no matter how much you wanted to. Thank you for being there in your quiet, faithful way, ready with open arms but never with a lecture. You showed up every time. I knew I could always count on you, and I know I still can.

You’ll always be my mom and I’ll always be your kid, but more often now I view our relationship as one of friends, and as your friend I hope you’ll let me speak into your life these words of encouragement: You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known. I know there are things you wish you could change, times you wish you could return to, but I don’t. Your beauty is timeless and it’s only grown brighter by the day. You are strong and brave; remember this when you feel overcome with worry. The more I understand your testimony, the more I stand in awe of your strength. The loss you’ve overcome, the life-altering decisions you’ve faced, the enormity of the forgiveness you’ve shown, the amount of uprooting changes you’ve navigated, are all a testament to your unshakeable faith. You are a gift; your strengths and talents bring life and love to every table you sit at. Don’t ever sell yourself short or downplay what you have to offer. You bring joy to this world and your presence is a blessing to all who stand in your light, especially me.

I don’t get my green eyes or my freckles from you, and I certainly don’t get my fierce competitive nature from you, but I do have you to thank for my gifts of hospitality, humor, encouragement and gift giving. I’m quick to credit you whenever I’m affirmed for these things because I witnessed them so tangibly in you. You found ways to make very occasion feel special, to make others feel seen and appreciated, and to laugh at the hard things and celebrate the good things. You showed me how to honor others well. I hope you feel honored today too.

Happy Mother’s Day Mom. I love you.

It was our yearly tradition to bring my Mom breakfast in bed on Mother’s Day.

Mother’s Day 1984

My beautiful mama and me.