Do you have plans for Mother’s Day?
Are you starting with church, followed by Brunch, then a few gifts and a peaceful day?
Tons of pictures?
That’s pretty much how I’ve spent Mother’s Day my whole life, until now.
This year, my mother won’t be here for Mother’s Day, but a story of mine and a story of her own remains, every time I see Lilies of the Valley flowers.
When I was about four years old, my parents moved from a small Summer Kitchen behind my grandparents’ farmhouse, into a Craftsman Bungalow in the “city”. The “city” was a 20-minute drive from house A to house B, but at the time, I felt like it was quite an adventure, traveling all that way…. where in the world were my parents taking me? and why?
Our two-bedroom bungalow was huge in comparison to our one-room summer kitchen home. Now, we lived on a corner lot, across the street from the Elementary School, where I would soon attend. Directly in front of us, little houses were lined up in a row, as well as on each side of us, an entirely different world than living in the country, with open views of corn fields, cows and cicadas to sing us to sleep.
Even though I was small, it felt “different”, this new-to-me world, but nice, to be a family all in one place, our own place.
As our first Spring approached, I spotted tiny white flowers with dark green leaves on the side of a neighbor’s house, no windows on the side, or door, no one to see the pretty flowers, except me.
What a wonderful surprise for my mother!
I pulled, plucked and picked until I could hold no more and ran proudly into our back door to the kitchen.
Excited, happy and proud of my surprise, flowers for my mother, I was the one “surprised” by her response.
Immediately, she took me by the hand, flowers and all, and marched me to the neighbors’ front door. When Mrs. Dunten answered her door, mom said, “tell her you’re sorry for stealing her flowers!”
Stealing?!!
I was embarrassed, and ashamed. Mrs. Dunten saw my reaction and said quietly that I could have all the flowers I wanted, and she accepted my apology, for not asking first.
Ouch, it’s hard to tell this…but what’s worse, is that sixty years later I remember this vividly!
Just a couple of years ago, when mom lived here with us, she apologized to me for being so “harsh”. At the time, she thought it was important to teach me right from wrong.
Apparently, her mother did the same thing to her when she was 7 years old. Picking Lilies of the Valley flowers as she walked home from school. They were for her mother, who loved flowers!
Again, the same response, accusation and humiliation.
When she told me her story after reliving mine, we both were teary-eyed, seeing ourselves and each other as little girls, innocently wanting to please our mothers, and reprimanded in the process.
I appreciated her apology, though I told her it wasn’t necessary.
“I know you love me.”
We both had the same story, same reasons, and the same results, with an eighteen-year gap in-between events.
Didn’t make it right.
Made it “understandable”.
You know, sometimes we forget that our parents are people, were once children, and actually had a life before us. People are people, it’s that simple, they only know what they know, and will repeat actions that they’ve learned along the way, positive and negative both.
Understanding, takes pure grit.
Forgiveness is not for the weak but is required to move forward.
This year is different, but special still.
Every time I see Lillies of the Valley, our stories come to mind, of myself as a preschooler, and my young mother, who loved me well.
After hearing her own story, I realized it was probably extremely difficult for her to do what she felt she must, teaching me respect of person and property, right from wrong, knowing full well that her tiny daughter, who had a very big heart, only wanted to make her smile.
It broke her heart.
She was strong enough to correct me the only way she knew, a way that had “worked” on her, knowing how it would make me feel.
And years later, knowing that I had never forgotten that.
Poor Mrs. Dunten! What a position she was in, whether she agreed with her new neighbor, this young mother or not, she was wise enough to never “overrule” the parent in front of the child.
I’ve been blessed to have decades of wonderful Mother’s Days, with my mother, and with my children.
And at the end of the day, even though she’s no longer here, my heart will remember,
“I know you love me.”
blessings to you,
xx,
