Friday, February 8, 2013

i missed my mom & dad for this?

You look like a mom in all the most wonderful ways.

There's a Mama T novena I have that I actually don't actually physically have
I currently possess a photo-copy of the actual novena booklet.
My mother sent me the photo-copy, and she attached to the twelve stapled pages (that are now worn, dirty, and dog-eared) a bright pink post-it note (now faded and water-stained) that reads:

I want to write you a nice long letter & tell you how wonderful you are & how much I love you, but if I hold this until I get that done, you'll never see this novena--busy as always--
Lots of Love,

As I look at that note, I never fail to smile.
That is my mom in a nutshell. She is always on the run. Always pouring herself out in six hundred different directions at once for her six children.

I can't even imagine what it's like to have six children small enough to fit inside of you grow into six children who are large enough to carry you in their arms.

I've never been in the business of standing still

 I currently find myself in the crossfires of two longings:
One: wishing I was small enough to fit inside my mother's arms again. Wishing I was snuggled up in my little home in suburban Minnesota, waking up to the aroma of bacon and pancakes floating down from the kitchen, being smothered in attention while I just try to read the Wall Street Journal like the incorrigible grouch that I am. I find myself longing to find the rewind button, and fold my wings up, and squeeze back into my warm little cocoon.
Two: Each time I see a little British baby swaddled in a thousand and one layers in a little stroller, or a little toddler running all over a British park, chasing pigeons, my heart aches for the day I'll hold my own little child in my arms. And I want to speed through all the adventures that will get me to that day. I get itchy feet, wanting to dive out of the present and into the future. I find myself with the irresistible desire to put my life on fast-forward.

What's great about being five to six hours ahead of everyone else in your life is that you often wake up to loads of emails. Most of which are full of business that you don't want to attend to at 7am in the morning, or full of reminders for events back on campus that you don't want to be reminded are happening without you.
But some are little notes from family, or electronic letters from friends full of love and happinesses, and reading them is the best way to start the morning.
One of my friends wrote a midnight epistle that reduced me to a grateful, teary mess.
It was one of the most precious letters I have ever received, and as I read it, I was reminded to live again in the present.
I was reminded that I've always felt too young to be on my own, and too old to be anything less than stubbornly independent.
I was reminded that even my little two-month-old self was already squirming out of my mother's arms, ready to embrace the adventure of the world.
And reminded of how my twenty-year-old self was dying to retreat from the big, wide world back into my mother's arms.

I was reminded of how much I love mothers.

1 comment:

  1. heads up, they call it either a "pram" or a "buggy" over here.