For Mother’s Day this year, I wanted to reflect on a list of gifts that my mom has given to me through the years. These are the ones that didn’t always show up in the moment as glamorous or gratifying but they were sustainable. They are the ones that settle deep inside and subtly show themselves again and again. The list could go on, but I will narrow it down to 4:
LIMITS
This “gift of limits” that was given to me was pretty practical early on. Like, you know, don’t run out in the road or touch the hot stove top. What mom makes for supper, is what’s for supper. No you may not go there or watch that. Those kinds of pretty basic boundaries. The ones that were setting an underlying foundation of safety for me without me even knowing it.
In time, the limits still given became more nuanced and suggestive. They began to be attached with the “why” question more often. Not the shaming kind but the truly curious kind. The helping us thinking through our underlying motives and potential outcomes kind. At times more of the “I don’t think it’s the best idea, but I’m going to let you make your own decision on this one” kind.
Not only did my mom enforce and encourage practical limits, she also set an undertone of internal limits as well. A philosophy, of sorts, that said “you are special, you are not superior.” We weren’t, in fact, the best at everything. We wouldn’t, and shouldn’t, win every award. She did not constantly rise up in our defense because we were the exceptional ones that deserved all the exceptions.
It’s still there today. A life soundtrack. Like a familiar tune, soft and steady:
You are not superior but you are oh so special.
You are not going to be good at everything.
You don’t have to spiral, you just need some sleep.
You can take a no. You can give a no.
You can let your limits humanize you.
Even better, you can let them humble you.
Right into the arms of a limitless savior.
SUPPORT
If one of my moms hands lowered to draw limits, the other was sure to be lifted high to offer support. She didn’t hold out one without the other. They worked in tandem together.
Now thinking about it, it’s as if she wasn’t afraid to say when something wasn’t our strong suit because she never withheld telling us when something was. She cheered so loudly for us that our own internal voices of insecurity or doubt were more easily drown out. She cheered for us. The us that we were and not the us that she or anyone else thought we should be.
She majored on the good.
What a powerful gift. She saw the good and spoke the good. She called it up out of us and allowed us to walk into it. She never pitted one persons passion over another and equally cheered all of our pursuits.
It’s why she used to yell from the stands of the basketball court when I finally made a basket or why she would tell me that my C in math made her proud. It’s the same reason why today she reloads my Starbucks card and renews my blog payments. Because her support comes from a place of seeing. Of knowing. And of majoring on the good.
LOVING OUR DAD IN FRONT OF US
There is much that I do not distinctly or vividly remember from when I was younger. I carry with me many outlines of my upbringing but couldn’t draw up all of the detailed bones that created it. One of those broad categories of my life is the relationship I witnessed between my mom and dad.
I couldn’t tell you if they had many little spats in front of me or if they went on dates every weekend. I don’t remember them constantly holding hands or regularly working through things together. But to my core I know this: my mom honored my dad.
My mom is a woman of words. And women of words can use them to bite or to bless. They can use words as a weapon to inflict wounds. They can also use words as a melody(e), to sing life and love. I remember, truly remember, my mom using her words to do the latter. She has consistently spoken to, and of, my dad with honoring and uplifting words. I trust that the way she spoke to him behind their closed door at night was the same way she spoke about him in rooms that he was not in.
Of course my mom did not love my dad in a perfect way but she really did love him in a beautiful way. A way that prioritized him and praised him and partnered with him. A way that built a sense of security in us all. And it is a gift that has undergirded and surrounded and now followed me, each day of my life.
A BOND AS SIBLINGS
Last but not least, is the gift my mom gave us of cultivating a lifelong friendship as siblings.
I know the Ted Talk. I know we cannot force our kids relationships with one another to look a certain way. I know that there is no secret sauce to guarantee the outcome of them moving from a required love to a voluntary liking. But, I will not discount or downplay the environment that my mom set for friendship to be forged in childhood and to flourish into adulthood. One not ultimately of competition or comparison but cheering.
She laid fertile soil for the seeds of friendship to grow. She not only spread the soil for it but set the example with it. She showed us, with her own siblings, what it looked like to be each others biggest fans. To let them lift her up instead of fighting to lift herself up. She laughed until she cried with them. She invited them over. She went to visit them. All in front of us.
And it’s the same type fruit of friendship with my own siblings that is also still blossoming into something today. It is a gift that keeps growing and giving.
A gift of grace.
As all gifts really are.
Thank you, mom.
Lewisvillelife 