When my mother died, I bawled like it was the end of the world. When my father died, I only experienced a brief weeping at the news. Yet the mother-son experience was far from perfect. Perhaps the only way to explain it is that, after she's gone, you suddenly realize, "I've lost my Momma!." In spite of all of our rough periods, she was still the person (next to my wife) who stood by me, loved me unconditionally, and was proud of anything that I had accomplished.
However, her history was shrouded in mystery --- including the begetting of me. As her medical condition worsened, I was made recipient to some soul-cleansing confessions, even though some of the facts didn't quite add up after further investigation. Why do people keep so much anger, hurt or shame pent up for so many years? I assured her on more than one occasion that there was nothing she could say to me that would lessen my love for her.
Still, she was my Mom. No matter how far away I lived, she would make contact with me on a regular basis. I could call her anytime, day or night, to share good news, bad news, joys or sorrows. I miss her.
As I look back, I see that much of our relationship was surface, similar to how my Dad and I related to one another. Countless games of Canasta were the backdrop for what conversations we had. (She trounced me soundly the night before she died.) Upon further reflection, I now realize that any meaningful talk was about me or my family. That is to say, I was foolishly focused on myself, rather than getting to know who she really was and developing a true dialogue with her.
My mother had difficulty in showing love and affection. Her best effort was to provide material things for me (She worked most of her life.), and, being an only child, I was more than ready to accept that arrangement. However, deep inside I needed more. While it was not an excuse for my lack of outward love for my own children, it does provide an explanation. We have the responsibility as adults to stop the cycle --- to form a bond with children and grandchildren, a bond that will affect generations to come.
My wife and I are watching with enjoyment the activity of new birth and growth of some house finches, whose nest is located precariously in a hanging spider plant on our front porch. Both mother and father bird are actively involved in caring for the young ones. God has designed in some species of nature a pattern that we "higher creatures" should take lessons from.
Caring for one another is paramount in our existence on this spinning ball and is an intricate part of a journey that extends far beyond our fleeting breath called life. God is both father and mother, the perfect parent. He birthed us, nurtured us and prepared a place for us. He sent his firstborn to teach us about himself.
We would do well to observe the lives of those close to us, then address our own lives in relation to theirs. This experience must begin at home, if it is to ever truly work with others. Also, don't be discouraged if the results are not quite what you expect. God is constantly working in all of his children, in areas that we often do not know about. I am responsible for me.
For many years after my marriage, my mother kept a room prepared for me, I guess in case the marriage didn't work out. But both my mother and my God had to eventually kick me out of the nest, so that I might spread my wings and learn to fly.
STEVE
No comments:
Post a Comment