I Am My Mothers’ Daughter
(This poem is for my daughter, who doesn’t look like me, but takes after me in all the ways that matter most. May all my children grow to know and appreciate all the mothers in their life who love them well, parent them in some way and influence them for good. May they “rise up and call her blessed”).
“She is her mother’s daughter.”(apostrophe “s”)
I have often heard this refrain as others comment on her eyes,
her hair or her curvy shape.
Sheepishly, I admit that I roll my eyes like
a teenager knowing this is not what matters most---those who have mothered me, often
look nothing like me
if the condition is only looking on the
outside.
But they are right, “I am my mothers’ daughter,” (“s” apostrophe)
if they dare to look deeper:
I am learning that my children are lent to me and am pushing them
toward what is best for them
like my first mama did
even if it doesn’t include me.
I am sharing the appreciation of the beauty
of notes and rhythms, of different styles of music
as we slide on a record and dance in the kitchen or
lean into each other as the day closes
legs up & eyes closed letting the truth we find in lyrics wash over us
belting out our favorites. I am teaching gratitude for growing
things as we cultivate
the earth, watching for it to bring forth green, flowering, fruitful things---
remembering that we are what needs to keep growing most.
These are things I learned from the Momma who bore me in her heart and not her
belly.
The middle school pal, who knew little of motherhood
except what her own fierce mother taught her. She told the secret that weighed me down with shame to save me despite my unkindness towards her.
I am always carrying her act of sacrificial love as uncomfortable but needed grace.
I’m sorry that it took becoming a grown-up to realize that sincere friends mother us too as they do what is for our good.
My closest college friends did the same—love me well in hard times.
I’ve loved even when it is uncomfortable because of all of them.
I am learning to steward what God has given me in this life well
living out a generous heart with others, like my college buddy’s mom
who treated a lonely, grieving college student like she was her own daughter, including her on school breaks and enabling her to go on holiday for the first time in a foreign country.
The female professors, childhood teachers and coaches that
shared their knowledge, imparted skills
pushed me to push myself
but were also gracious, I see your imprint on my life,
the ways I live it. I don’t give up and am a life-long learner because of
you.
The women in the churches or fellow mama friends I have been a part of (especially BBC, NSCB, Cornerstone)
helped me grow in my faith.
I have learned to love God and others as I sat
in your Sunday school classes/youth group/Bible studies, been prayed for or
with, babysat/taught your children, was invited to your homes, received home
cooked meals, learned from leading or being served and bearing one another’s
burdens.
You have taught me to take an honest look at my sin, be truthful about
my pain, lay everything at the feet of Jesus, live a life that is changed by Him,
be thankful for my salvation, and remember the hope of a future in Him.
I am mastering inviting like Grammie E,
who opened her home and heart without delay to the stranger, sharing
the lovely and painful parts of her story. Later, her invitations included visits
to a new state and grand, first time adventures abroad. She is Grammie now but truly
was a mom on weekends once where a little girl felt safe as she played in
water, counted coins and was rocked in her loving arms.
She includes and enjoys breaking the stereotypes of mothers-in-law.
From the family Christmas party where she threw together an ornament with a celebrity that resembled me (stillmakes me chuckle) so that I didn’t feel left out
to the many chats around delicious cheese platters (with a delightful glass of wine in hand)
to playing at the beach with grandchildren, imparting to me that love looks like making people
feel like they are part of your crowd and enjoying them when you are together.
She’s been coming along side me since we first met a second Mother-in-law (another stereotype
breaker)
to check on me, to answer my questions when I seek advice, to help
me when I was physically and emotionally weak, to work with our hands on
projects. She’s taught me that together is a side by side kind of endeavor where
no one is better or less than. It’s a love that is a humble linking of arms, that
asserts that we are collectively stronger. It’s a love that isn’t afraid of working
hard for others in very practical ways. Her mothering has always been “hands on.”
So, maybe, it’s true,
I am my mothers’ daughter (“s” apostrophe)
all of them and
you are too.
(Take some time to name the women who have mothered you well over the years in the comments below.)