Ode to Mom But Not As Poetic As Intended

Most people who know me would be shocked to know that I am sitting here at a loss for words. I decided to sit down and type a wonderful "Ode to My Mom" or something that would serve as a fitting tribute. The thing is that I find myself not even knowing where to start.

Yesterday, my whole family, (the divorced side too), gathered to see Sarah perform at her dance recital. She was wonderful. Sarah really has a natural rhythm and energy about her that is infectious. Of course, Mom was there too. At dance recitals, for those who are uninformed about such matters, you don't just watch your child, you watch a whole show of all the children performing in their area of dance. Costumes, music, make-up... It is a whirl of activity! The children were all wonderful. The director had even put together a "Daddy-dance" in which dad's came out and performed with their little ones. It was the cutest thing ever. But, perhaps the thing that entertained me more was Mom's hysterical laughter while watching the little pre-school and kindergarten children perform. She was in stitches. Just because you put a fancy little costume on a child, do their hair, and make them look more precious than anyone could imagine, does not mean children are going to do what they are choreographed to do. Mom takes such delight in that... She loves to watch the children "dancing to their own beat".

I think one of the things I have grown to admire most about Mom in recent years, is her new-found ability to let us dance to our own beat. Sometimes, I'm sure that she isn't as delighted as she was when she was watching the pre-schoolers, but she honors our path and allows us to do whatever we need to do. She rejoices in our successes and prays for us throughout our struggles. Don't get me wrong. Mom isn't meek and mild. She has definite opinions about things. But, usually, she just gives her opinion and lets us make our own decisions.

Growing up, Mom was perfect. She was Supermom with a capital "S". My brother and I were always involved in different things. I took dance as a child, and before the storm I'm sure we had the pictures to prove it. I can remember a little picture of myself in a red polka-dotted costume. My hair was pulled up in curls on top of my head and I was posing for the world. There were also photos to memorialize all of our activities. My brother and I played baseball and softball, soccer, and tried basketball. Mom was in the PTA; she was on the board of the sports league; she owned the preschool we attended; she worked as a Title I assistant at our elementary school... In short, we were the center of her world.

Because of my mom, I have a fabulous sense of who and what I am. Even before our family had embraced a spiritual life, I always knew I was Divinely created. Mom cherished us so much that she related that unspoken message in everything we did.

Sometimes we were so cherished, it was aggravating. She had to know where we were at all times. We weren't allowed to do things other kids did. We were forced to talk to her about stuff. If something was going on with one of us, she wouldn't leave us alone to go stew about it privately, we had to get it out in the open. Even now, she still says, "Let's get it out in the open and let God's light shine on it."

Mom is traveling to Texas this month to watch her eldest grandchild (my neice)graduate from high school. Then, she and J.R. will be returning to take Danielle on a trip to Italy. I am so very excited for her. She loves doing things for and with her grandchildren. She has always had a dream of going to Italy and I am so glad that the opportunity materialized for her. God is truly wonderful.

Interestingly, Mom now has a different type of teaching position. She is the teacher at the Youth Court. When kids get in to trouble for a variety of infractions, they get to go see my mom. The other day, I was in Subway ordering a sandwich. Mom came up to meet me because she was taking Danielle to eat and needed enzymes. (We generally all carry an abundant supply of enzymes... I don't know where her supply was that day.) Anyway, the teenager behind the counter saw my mom and noticed that I was talking to her. He asked, "Do you KNOW her?"

I replied, "Sure. She is my mom."

His eyes got really wide and he said, "I met her at Youth Court after I got into trouble. She talked to me."

I just nodded and winked at him. "Yeah, imagine growing up with her as your mom." He looked awed, fearful and envious all at the same time.

I called Mom over and she had a pleasant conversation with him. He said he was staying out of trouble.

I'll bet he is... Having to have the type of conversation that he did with my mom is not an experience he is likely to forget soon. Both girls have said if they get into trouble and have to go to Youth Court, they would prefer to be transported directly to prison.

What is so terrible about Mom's conversations? Well, it is her ability to see the spark of the Divine within each person. Then she is able to let the "offender" know, in no uncertain terms, that he/she is not living up to Divine potential. The shame, guilt and remorse is a killer. I was a little wild as a teenager, so I have some experience with these types of conversations. [Insert mischeivious wink here.]

The talks, the involvement, the interaction with my mom have made me into the person I am today. I hold no illusions of granduer. I know I don't measure up to Mom. I won't ever wash my children's shoelaces weekly or whip out a Halloween costume on the sewing machine. I just can't rise to that level. But, her love and nurturing have helped me to become a Mom who can make sure her children get treatments and get ready for softball games at the same time. I can flush I.V.'s in the car on the way to the mall. I can stay up giving treatments when Sarah is having an allergy attack and finally dope her up with Dimetapp when we just can't take it anymore and all need to sleep.

When Dan was in fourth grade, she had a problem with a little boy in class. Since I work at her school, I pulled her out in the hallway, gave her a hug, wiped her tears and said, "Honey, I think you are old enough to learn a very important life lesson now..." Dan looked at me expectantly and I told her, "Some people are just
a--holes." She laughed and I laughed and it helped her get through the day. It has become a joke in our family and I was able to share the same bit of spiritual wisdom with Sarah last week when some of the girls in her class were mean to her.

This has become rambling and long... It isn't the flowery "Ode to My Mom" that she deserves. Still, I just thank her for making that commandment about honoring your mother incredibly easy for me.

~Namaste'~