For a while in my 40's I tried to change. I thought I was changing. I was learning some concepts and ideas that I liked... had been exposed to before, but not really bought, like individual responsibility: I am responsible for my own happiness, etc. But, I still wanted to believe in Prince Charming. What a waste of time! Now, in the past few years I've realized that I had not really changed much, still pretty much depending on circumstances, magic, "smoke and mirrors," and hope. A wise man recently said to me, "Hope is not a game plan."
Truth has settled in to me. Real, hard core, plain truth. And, there have been nice benefits. Cliches are cliches because they prove to be true. The truth shall set you free... someone can probably tell me where that one comes from. And, it's true. Really taking a long honest look at myself, and what I'm thinking and doing has been incredible.
One of those benefits has been an improved relationship with my mother. I've spent what seems like most of my adult life blaming her for my unhappiness. I've said repeatedly that she didn't love me enough. The truth is that she didn't love me the way I needed it. But, and it is a huge "but," and one I'm so happy to finally be able to see and feel, she loved me the best she could. When my dad ran away because that was what he did, she stayed. She worked her poor heart out to put food on our table and clothes on our backs, but because it didn't look the way I NEEDED for it to: sweet, kind, soft-spoken and touching... I missed the blessing that was right in front of me all along. Poor sweet woman. She has truly spent herself. Physically: the spider veins in her legs, proof of all the hours she stood on her feet on the floor of a cotton mill, dominate the skin; her back is bent from carrying the weight of worrying about all my mistakes; her eyes are tired, probably from crying tears over all my craziness. And, I know I couldn't have done anything any differently, I was truly doing the best I could to try to deal with the emotional tenderness that I was starving for. I pray for His Forgiveness and Hers and that we all might live long enough for me to make it up to her.
How I make it up to her is this: I agree with her. She has a deep need to be right. And, as much as I hate it, she is, very often right, especially about my mistakes. It is so freeing to say, "You're right, mom." And, in my heart, know that she is, and that I'm not just saying it to get her to be quiet about it. I have found such a sweet peaceful freedom in being able to admit my faults to her. I've been admitting them increasingly to others in the last little while, but, the Lord knows, I didn't want her to know she'd been right in all her criticisms of me. But, now that I've been receiving gentleness and tenderness and acceptance from others in my life, I no longer need this from her. It is enough that I offer these gifts to her. Along with my acknowledgement of all that she has done and continues to do for me every day.
Hallelujah. And, Happy Mother's Day.
