Looking for a place to feel inspired and challenged? Like to share a smile or a laugh? Interested in becoming more familiar with Canadian writers who have a Christian worldview? We are writers who live in different parts of Canada, see life from a variety of perspectives, and write in a number of genres. We share the goal of wanting to entertain and inspire you to be all you can be with God's help.
Saturday, May 08, 2010
When I Grow Up, I Want to Be Like Mom - Gibson
My mother, (God bless her unbuttoned heart) never encouraged me in the kind of relationships that would make me a mother myself.
Consider this entry in my childhood diary. I was ten years old.
Dear fiancé,
I don’t know who you are or even if I’ll ever have you but if I do I hope you like pets. I have three. One is a hamster. We could clean out his cage together.
I also hope you would never want to hug or kiss because I don’t like that stuff.
The other day my mommy and me were looking out the window and we saw a couple lying on the grass together kissing and hugging and my mommy said it looked awful and I said that I thought it looked awful too so then me and my three friends got the garden hose out and turned the cold water on and sprayed the couple and got them wet.
What fun!
Sincerely, Kathy
Somehow that diary entry escaped its pages, and almost ten years later dropped in at my wedding. After our emcee revealed this bit of embarrassing literature to our guests, he, clearly relishing the moment, presented me with a gift. A squirt-gun. Then he went into some great length of detail on how I was to use it. In case the Preacher ever became amorous.
I didn’t need the lesson: my mother had already taught me.
Ahem, ahem. Two children, and three grandchildren later, it seems obvious: I misplaced the squirt-gun. Mom forgave me the instant she laid eyes on our babies.
At ninety-one, her mind as sharp as her best paring knife, but her plucky little body ravaged by a quarter-century of ill health, Mom prays fervently for all her progeny. She wishes we could live closer, she says. And she urges me to not work too late at night, get plenty of rest, and take good care of the Preacher.
“Are you cooking him good meals?” she asks sometimes, when I visit her in Chilliwack.
“Mother. Does it look like he’s starving?” I ask her. She giggles.
One day I mix a batch of her favourite cookie dough to freeze. She watches. I leave the room for just a moment. When I return, there she stands, grinning. Rolling the dough into balls, and with a sharp flick of her wrist tossing them onto the freezing-sheet across the table. As though they were pebbles, and she a child on the shore.
She giggles at my laughter. Later, with excruciating difficulty—her shoulders have come unraveled—she raises her arms. Cradles my face in both hands. Looks me in the eye. Says I’m a wonderful daughter and she loves me, and am I eating enough?
My mother (God bless her generous unbuttoned heart) doesn’t use words much. But for over five decades, she’s been my North Star in life and faith, humour and wit, mothering and grandmothering.
When I grow up, Lord...
Yeah, just like her.
****
Author and faith and life columnist, Kathleen Gibson. This column was published in Yorkton This Week and online at Sunny Side Up.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Popular Posts
-
Write Canada is more than a professional networking conference. It’s a safe place where beginning and intermediate writers can learn ...
-
It's an old proverb: How do you eat an elephant? One bite at a time. Sometimes elephants come crashing through our front door - uninvite...
-
I have been feasting of late on Marilyn Chandler McEntyre's Caring for Words in a Culture of Lies . She exhorts all of us -- and mo...
-
Dreams are baffling things. Like high quality china they have a strength that defies logic. Yet after years of bumps and bangs that sugges...
-
Have you ever been to a film festival? Last year I had the privilege of attending Sundance where God put in on my heart: “What if we had a f...
-
Writers—especially those who aspire to write books—are currently being told that the publishing industry is undergoing a massive change. Th...
-
This may be a bit outside of what we normally post here, but the problem as I see it is that people frequently come to The Word Guild after ...
-
Five days from today the seasons will officially change as summer gives way to autumn. From heat to coolness. From green to red and yello...
-
When I was a young mother many people offered advice on how to raise my children. Some suggestions were more helpful than others. One helpfu...
-
To what would we have turned in our low times had David had not written about his experiences? When he was down, David created songs ...
2 comments:
Entertaining. I like your style, Kathleen.
Your story, "Next Time We'll Go by Camel," was a humorous addition to our launch in Kitchener for Grandmothers' Necklace. Probably not so funny at the time.
Carolyn Wilker
Kathleen,
Humorous and heartwarming, perky and poignant (especially for adult daughters, I hazard to guess).
Thank you for this piece; and thank the Lord for your dear mom!
Post a Comment