Mother’s Day: Live Weightless (Intention # 3)

I would like to introduce you to my friend, Cheri Hardaway. She is a mom, a writer and so much more! I met her through The Christian Writers Forum last year and have enjoyed seeing both her writing and calling come together. I know you will enjoy her ” Run Like A Girl” story. It is one every woman can relate to as a mother or a daughter. May it encourage you to live weightless in your relationships and to extend grace to yourself.

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I stood in the greeting card aisle, stifled a sigh, and reached for another card. I’d done it again, put off buying a card until the last minute. I hated shopping for Mother’s Day cards. They were all just so . . . wrong.

This one read:

                                                          The dearest gifts that heaven holds,

The very finest, too,

Were made into one pattern

That was perfect, sweet, and true;

The Angels smiled, well-pleased, and said:

“Compared to all the others,

This pattern is so wonderful

Let’s use it just for Mothers!”

© Helen Steiner Rice

Ugh. Too sappy. I reached for the next one—another monologue declaring that Mom had always been there for me . . . as a Mom, as a friend.

My heart was a rock inside my chest. How could I send her that? I wouldn’t mean a word of it. She hadn’t been there. She’d been drunk. For ten solid years of my youth, from age ten to age twenty, she was drunk. I could still remember waking to the sound of the pop top from the kitchen, knowing she was already drinking beer, before I even got out of bed. I could still picture the empty beer cans hidden in my baby sister’s closet. 

Yes, now that I was grown, I understood why she’d turned to alcohol. We’d talked about it several times after she’d gotten sober. And yes, she was sober . . . now. Had been for the past decade.

I reached for another card. It read:

Mothers have a special way

Of saying ‘I love you’

A love that God has given them

A love that will hold true

For Mothers sacrifice so much

Providing for the home

Creating there an atmosphere

That reflects God’s love alone.

© By M. S. Lowndes

I held the card, lost in thought. I saw again the wonder in my toddlers’eyes, leaning against Grandma as she pointed out the ladder up the side of her Christmas tree. They couldn’t get over the little elves that hung from some of the rungs, as if they were scrambling from top to bottom and back again, with holiday goodies. It was a tree straight from a fairy tale.

My kids didn’t know the same mom that I remembered. They knew a wonderful woman who  desired their every happiness. It gave me joy to see them with her and know that they wouldn’t know the same woman I knew from that painful time in our past.

I rejoiced God had brought peace to her troubled heart and helped her to stop drinking, so my kids wouldn’t have to know her like that. I gave thanks they knew the same woman I’d known in my younger years, the one who sat up until dawn sewing Barbie clothes for my Barbie doll on Christmas Eve.

And then it hit me. She had been there for me, until life threw her a curve ball that she couldn’t get past. It was only then she’d trusted the alcohol instead of God.

Things happen, I thought. No one’s perfect. What if life throws me a curve ball? Will my own kids find it difficult to buy a Mother’s Day card for me too?

That thought hit hard. I knew how much I wanted to do right by my children. And suddenly I realized that my mom had wanted the same thing . . . still did. In fact, I knew God today because she’d taken me to church as a youngster. She’d instilled the truth of God into my heart, and though I’d walked away from it for a time, I’d come back to it. I knew God forgave me.

Mother’s Day reminded me of the prayer, “ Forgive me as I’ve been forgiven.”~ Matthew 6:12 
Had I forgiven my mom as I had been forgiven? I went down my ready list:

God, You know what an embarrassment she was to me in high school . . .

I couldn’t bring my friends home . . .

When I had a problem, I couldn’t talk to her, I got so sick of her negativity . . .

“Excuse me.” I was nudged back to the present when a frazzled-looking woman reached past me to grab a card. She attempted to read it, as the toddler in her cart fished items from behind and dropped them on the floor with a gleeful giggle.

The young teen by her side just shook her head and watched the scene. “Mom, you said we were leaving. I need to get home now.”

“I know. I know. I’m sorry. I just need to grab a card for Grandma.”

The young girl folded her arms across her chest, with a dramatic hmpff.

“It’d be quicker if you’d help with your little brother, you know.” The woman sounded tired.

The girl reached for the toddler’s bombs and threw them back in the cart, finishing with a kick to the tire. “Don’t know why you need to get her a card. She never speaks to us anyhow.”

The woman shot me a glance, tossed the card into the cart without reading it, and turned to leave. But not before I saw the tears in her eyes. I heard her mumble, “I’m sorry,” as she walked away.

I didn’t know if she was sorry she took the time to get her mom a card . . . sorry I’d overheard the family skirmish . . . or just plain sorry she’d gotten out of bed that day.

I swallowed past the lump in my throat and bowed my head there in the middle of the greeting card aisle. Father, I have no idea what was happening between that mother and daughter, but I know You allowed it to happen in front of me. I’m sure the mom has her issues, and the daughter obviously has some, too. Thanks for reminding me of my issues– I am keeping score of things that happened over ten years ago.

Help me, Father, to forgive Mom. Help me to remember that she didn’t hurt me intentionally. Help me live weightless–forgiving as I’ve been forgiven. Amen.

I re-read the card in my hand:

Mothers have a special way

Of saying ‘I love you’

A love that God has given them

A love that will hold true

For Mothers sacrifice so much

Providing for the home

Creating there an atmosphere

That reflects God’s love alone.

© By M. S. Lowndes

No, Mom hadn’t been perfect. Neither was I. She tried her best. She introduced me to Jesus–the only one who makes me completely weightless.

My prayer, as I paid for Mom’s card, was that one day my own children would understand the lesson that God had just taught me–bitterness weighs heavy, forgiveness gives wings. How much better to better to forgive and live free . . . love free . . . run free . . . like a girl.

 

 

© By Cheri Hardaway, February 2009

All Rights Reserved.

 

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