Mom prose.

For about six or seven years, every year on Mother’s Day, my sister and I would sing a song for my mom.  We usually modified hymns so that they applied to my mom instead.  Lines like, “our mom is an awesome mom” and “we will love you in the morning, and we will learn to do what you say” are pretty characteristic of these tunes.

Fortunately, we had a tape recorder back in those days, so those sweet little voices, singing sort of cheesy but totally heartfelt parodies for our mom are preserved for as long as there are tape players.  Maybe cassettes will have the same resurgence as vinyl has, and they’ll be heard for generations to come.

I sat by the stereo tonight, rewound the tape so that I could get it ready for when my mom comes upstairs for breakfast tomorrow, and wished I had written her another song.  I intended to just rewind it, but I found myself listening to every song, hearing the voices slightly mature with each year’s recording.

As I listened to them, I realized that it might have been slightly sacrilegious to change the words from glorifying God to honoring my mom, but I think the heart of it was right.

As much as I long to be a mother someday, the thought of having the responsibility for another person’s life and upbringing terrifies me. Even pregnancy and childbirth is daunting enough without a lifetime of relationship to follow.  I’m so thankful to my mom for being brave, for facing parenthood with arms wide open (and my dad, too, but it’s not his day yet).

Thank you, Mom, for frequent embraces and reminders that you love me.  Thank you for making Jesus a priority right from the start and putting me in environments where I could learn for myself what my relationship with God should look like.  Thank you for both opening your ears to me to listen and your mouth to share your wisdom and insight.  Thank you for teaching me discipline and how to do my own laundry early on.

Thank you for reminding me of truth when my circumstances caused me to forget.  Thank you for teaching me how to practice hospitality and that food is always the best way to show someone that you care.

This past year has been a constant progression into new seasons of life: empty nest, partially empty nest when Brooke finished college, full nest for the summer even though Brooke works all week, half empty nest when I go back in the fall, totally empty nest when Brooke gets married in January… Yet, through the seemingly constant transition mode, we’ll learn what our relationship as mother and adult daughters looks like.

It’s a challenge worth accepting.  Happy Mother’s Day, Mom.

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