Relationships Can Be Complicated

07 Friday Jun 2013

Posted by Catherine Lawton in challenges of motherhood, expectations, forgiving mom, forgiving yourself, generational patterns, generations coming together, Learning to appreciate Mom, the healing journey

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authentic relationship, Finding our identity, Israel, Messianic Judaism, Mother, mother and daughter, relationships, Yeshua

That’s me and Mother (a few years ago!)

In her review on Amazon.com of Journeys to Mother Love, Judy Pex* wrote, “I would recommend this book to any woman because even if we don’t all have daughters, we do all have mothers, and from my personal experience as well as women I speak with, those relationships can often be complicated.”

When it comes to complicated relationships, Judy knows of what she speaks. Growing up Jewish in America, living most of her adult life as a Messianic believer in Israel, raising her children to believe in Yeshua (Jesus) while they attended Israeli schools and then served in the Israeli army, hosting travelers from all over the world in the hostel she and her husband, John, run. Worshiping with and caring for people from many different cultural and language backgrounds. Working with refugees. All kinds of opportunities for complicated relationships (which she navigates with grace)!

Especially fraught with opportunities for complications is the mother/child relationship, and most especially the mother/daughter relationship. Why is that?

I’m going to list some thoughts off the top of my head about what might cause those complications:

1. Perhaps mothers try to re-live their lives through their daughters. And perhaps daughters see themselves or their potential selves in their mothers, and they may or may not like what they see.

2. Unrealistic expectations.

3. Emotional dependence.

4. The need to (and not always managing to) really listen and view your daughter – or mother – as a unique individual in her own right.

I’m sure there are many more contributing factors. Maybe our readers can add their thoughts about why this mother/daughter relationship can – and often does – become so complicated.

~ Catherine Lawton

*Judy (Judith Galblum Pex) is the author of Walk the Land: A Journey on Foot through Israel and A People Tall and Smooth: Stories of Escape from Sudan to Israel.

Role-Reversal and Emotional Baggage

21 Tuesday May 2013

Posted by Catherine Lawton in confessing our need, emotional needs, feeling inadequate, forgiving mom, frustration to freedom, God's healing love, letting go of anger, mother wounds, the healing journey

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authentic relationship, Courage to be honest, Emotional and spiritual healing, Forgiveness, life stages, mother and daughter, relationships, Role reversal, unresolved hurt

Loritta, author of the story “White Knuckles”

Loritta Slayton tells another story of mother-daughter role reversal.

“Little by little,” Loritta says, “more of those decisions that limited Mom’s independence were required…. Quite independent her entire life, this change was hard for her. I found it challenging to lead in the face of her resistance and frustration. I hated the friction it caused.”

Loritta’s upbringing wasn’t characterized by warm or demonstrative affection and trust. White-knuckled anger took hold of Loritta as the responsibility for her aging mother (and then her mother-in-law as well!) fell to her. Loritta says, “Mom had ways of bringing out my lack of patience…. I had emotional baggage to deal with and I didn’t know how.”

Loritta’s story, “White Knuckles,” is the last story in the book, Journeys to Mother Love, for a reason. She has a strong testimony of relational healing that hinged on forgiveness toward her mother and obedience to the Lord. The conclusion to her story makes a fitting conclusion to the entire book:

“And so I hope that you, the reader, will be encouraged to give God permission to loosen your fingers from any ‘white-knuckled’ grip. May you be encouraged to say, ‘yes.’ May you experience the joy of finding freedom in any relationship where you’ve let your emotions rule over your heart and life. … Don’t wait. Give God permission now and start your journey to freedom and love.”

Thank you, Loritta, for your example to us of honesty and courage and faith.

~Catherine Lawton

Through all the Changes Life Brings, Mother is the “Glue”

19 Sunday May 2013

Posted by Catherine Lawton in Gratitude, Learning to appreciate Mom, leaving a legacy, losing mom too soon, the healing journey, when mom has alzheimer's

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Alzheimer's disease, life stages, Modeling the faith, Mother, mother and daughter

Kerry Luksic had a great relationship with her mother. Her mother had always been the strong, capable, “sharp dynamo who raised thirteen kids.” Then her mother got Alzheimer’s and their roles began to reverse. In Journeys to Mother Love Kerry shares her journey of accepting the changes in her mother and realizing that her mother’s love for her hadn’t changed.

Her story, “Finding the Blessings in Alzheimer’s,” takes us on the emotional roller coaster of a daughter dealing with Alzheimer’s disease in her mother. Then she concludes:

“It’s true that dealing with Mom’s Alzheimer’s disease hasn’t killed me. In fact, it has made me stronger. It has reinvigorated my perspective to appreciate every day, since you never know what lies ahead. It’s true that things could be worse with Mom. She could have died years ago or her illness could have progressed at an even faster rate than it has. I know several women who have lost their mothers and it’s one of the hardest things to get through in life. The loss of a mother leaves a permanent hole in your heart and can tear families to shreds. Mothers are the glue of most families….

“Even though Mom no longer knows who I am, she shows immense delight when I visit her and still recognizes the love between us…. I believe it’s through Mom’s life lessons that I have the strength to accept her fate and the role reversal the disease imposes. Mom’s lifelong mantras, ‘You don’t give up, you offer it up; you look at the bright side of life; you put your head down and just keep going’ are a constant part of who I am.”

Thank you, Kerry, for sharing your story with us, and for the reminder that mothers are often the “glue” of their families. As a mother, through all the changes life brings in myself and in my children, I pray God will help me to be “good glue.”

~Catherine Lawton

Grace to Broken Mamas on Mother’s Day

12 Sunday May 2013

Posted by good2bfree in challenges of motherhood, childhood memories, Gratitude, Learning to appreciate Mom, Parenting, the healing journey

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Family, mother and daughter, Mother's Day, Mothering, Parenting

I was cleaning my kitchen and an image of the upcoming Mother’s Day flashed in my mind. I pictured myself alone. By myself. No kids. No husband. Just me. It felt refreshing. Of course this mental image came right after all three of my children came in like a swarm of bees buzzing around me with, “Mama, can I have?” “Mama, can you get me?” “Mama! He hit me!” A constant buzz of wants, cries, and whines.

I pulled out a snack to calm these kiddos of mine. Looking at them sitting quietly (only because they had a mouth full of cocoa puffs), I resumed reality. I do want my Mother’s Day to be a celebration—more for the sake of my children, because I remember when I was a little girl excited to celebrate my mom. I would present her with the best handmade card ever created. Every year I gleamed with pride as I held out the pink construction paper fashioned into a fabulous declaration of “# 1 Mom!”. My mother accepted it with a smile, knowing that no matter how shaky my 5-year-old handwriting was, or how my crayon meant to draw a kitty cat that instead looked like a flat turtle with pointy ears, she loved it. I’m sure the idea of propping her feet up with a good book crossed her mind, but she always celebrated with her daughter instead.

Mother’s Day is a celebration. No matter how my relationship was with my mom, she decided to keep me, nurture me the best she could, and, simply, be my mom. I love her for that. And I thank God for knowing my mom would be the one for me.

Often times on the days when I feel so overwhelmed being a mother myself, I will hear an encouraging message reminding me of how God hand-picked me to be the mother of three creative, caring, spicy kids. They stretch my patience, my mind, and even my skin (as evident of the marks on my thighs!) But they also widen my heart and tame my selfishness.

I now understand my mom’s smile as she held the Mother’s Day card I made for her. She liked the card, sure; but she saw beyond the scribble. She saw a child, her child, drawing a different view of the world for her—a world that offered grace to a broken mama.

My sweet babies show me grace every day by wrapping their arms around me or cupping my face and saying, “I love you, Mama.”

Now that’s worth celebrating!

~Treva Brown

A Gift of Flowers

06 Monday May 2013

Posted by vernahsimms in generations coming together, Gratitude, leaving a legacy

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Family traditions, giving and receiving, Home and Garden, mother and daughter, Mother's Day

My sweet mother has been gone from her home on earth for more than forty years, but I still think of her every spring about this time. For several reasons: first my birthday is towards the last of April and that day years ago Mother gave me life. Also, even though she already had four living children and couldn’t afford another, she gave me love and nurturing. And, of course, Mother’s Day is coming up soon.

But more importantly, I think of Mother because spring is the planting season. Mother taught me the love of gardening and how to plant each seed, each bulb and each small, rooted plant. She showed me the way to clip cuttings from geraniums and roses and other plants to start new growth, thereby having a cheap way to multiply beautiful flowers and shrubs.

I recall the first day in early spring when I drove the few blocks to Mother’s house and together we spent the morning browsing in a nearby nursery looking to buy tomato plants. Mother reminded me my birthday would be soon and said she wanted to buy me a gift of flowers that were already in bloom, that I could plant in the yard. A lovely present that lasted all summer! I chose red salvia and a blue flower (I don’t recall the name). Usually I planted seeds and had to wait for blooms. The luxury of immediately having plants in bud or full bloom thrilled me.

When Mother’s Day arrived I gathered a pretty bouquet and presented them to Mother. And so the ritual between us was started. I am happy to say it continued for many happy years. Mother lived to be almost ninety-three and continued to garden on a small scale until about two years before her death.

To this day I enjoy digging in the dirt. It is difficult for me to stoop, so I have purchased large pots I can use outdoors. When spring comes each year I rejoice in the new life of the birds and I never fail to think of my mother and the joy she brought into my life with the love of gardening. I only hope she can look down and share the happiness with me this year. I am passing on the love she taught me to my great-grandson, and I think that as long as the earth stands and plants grow, my mother will not be forgotten.

In a few days I’ll say again this year, “Happy Mother’s Day, Mother. I LOVE YOU!”

~ Verna Simms

A Yarn about Love

20 Sunday Jan 2013

Posted by Catherine Lawton in losing mom too soon, the healing journey

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a heart filled with love and hope, life and death, mother and daughter, Prayer

Mother was not expected to live much longer. But she never spoke of death. She kept knitting Christmas presents and making plans to see all her family.

One day I took her to the hospital for cancer treatments, and a nurse told her about a good place to buy yarn at the woolen mills nearby. Mother wanted me to take her there.

“Are you sure you feel up to it?” I knew car rides were painful for her.

“Yes. Let’s go now while we’re out and I have the energy.”

“So we set off in my old Volvo through crowded and confusing city streets. At one point we found ourselves driving in circles. Mother held her sides as she laughed. If it hurt, she didn’t let on.

At the factory store, we found wool yarns dyed in every imaginable hue. Mother exclaimed over the colors and textures. “I get excited just thinking about new projects. Knitting is fun because each pattern is a new challenge. I’d love to make these sweaters.”

She thumbed through a pattern book, then replaced it on the rack. “After I finish the afghan I’m working on now, I’ll knit for the grandchildren.” Her tone indicated there would be plenty of time.

Inspired by Mother’s enthusiasm, I selected a basket full of yarns. Waiting in line to pay for them, I glanced at Mother. She stood near the woolen fabrics. A cloud seemed to have crossed over her. She was frowning. How tired she looked, how thin, how old (cancer had done that, though she was only 48 years old).

The joy of my purchase vanished. Leaving the shopping cart, I walked over to her. “Mother, here’s a chair. Why don’t you sit down?”

“I think I will. I guess I should have taken a pain pill this morning, but I hoped I could get by without it.”

Returning to the cashier’s line, I thought, What are we doing here? Suddenly I resented the whole scene: bustling shoppers, busy clerks, long lines. What is the purpose of all this? I made my purchase and walked Mother to the car, sadly realizing time with her was coming to an end.

Later I watched Mother as she sat knitting a ski cap for my sister. I knew she often prayed as she knitted. The long blue plastic needles kept crossing and interlocking the loops of green and white yarn. In a similar way her prayers were connecting link upon link of loving requests to the heart of God on behalf of those she loved.

She died about two months later. Mother loved life and held to it as long as she could. But even more she loved God and the people He put into her life. That love enabled her to endure, believe, and hope to the last.

~ Catherine Lawton

p.s. This true story first appeared in the book, My Turn to Care, compiled by Marlene Bagnull. First published by Thomas Nelson in 1994, it was reprinted by Ampelos Press. In 2012 the book was re-released by OakTara.

p.p.s. It is still hard for me to read and share these memories of my mother’s suffering and my loss of her when I was in my twenties. God has done so much deep healing in me through the years. Yet sadness can still wash over me and I long to see her. I know she’s completely free and whole and joyous with Jesus. As I get older I don’t want to spend too much time looking back, but keep looking forward in hope and anticipation.

MY BEST CHILDHOOD CHRISTMAS MEMORY

20 Thursday Dec 2012

Posted by arcecil in childhood memories, family gatherings, the healing journey

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Christmas Eve, Family traditions, Mother, mother and daughter, White Christmas

“La pie – The magpie” by Monet

On that Christmas Eve, my little sister, six years younger than I, had been sent off to bed. She went gladly, since she thought Santa wouldn’t come until she was asleep. I wasn’t a bit jealous that I wouldn’t have sugar plums dancing in my head; I got to stay up and help bring the presents out of hiding and place them around the tree. My other two siblings, full-fledged teenagers, were watching Perry Como’s Christmas Special in the den.

Mother, Father and I did a good job of displaying the gifts and filling the stockings. “I’m Dreaming of a White Christmas” could be heard from the room down the hall.

“Are we going to get snow for Christmas?” I asked.

“They’re saying we might get a dusting,” Mom replied.

Soon my father, who had worked all day, retired for the night; and Mom returned to the kitchen to take care of a few last details for our traditional Christmas-morning breakfast. I hung around the tree, soaking in the magic of colored lights, cedar scent, gifts wrapped in Christmas motif paper and tied with ribbon that curled (as a result of being run along the blade of a pair of scissors).

(Curled Ribbon on a Present)

The evening began to draw to a close when Mom reappeared from around the dining room wall and asked, “I’m going to midnight church. Do you want to go?”

Since Mom did not drive, I knew going along meant walking a half mile in the cold. But, it didn’t seem right that she should go alone. “Sure,” I responded.

We pulled on boots and bundled up in as many layers as we could wear and still be able to walk. Then we headed out. The cold sky was starless and the moon fought to show itself, as a blanket of clouds moved across it. We trudged along with only the sparsely-placed light posts to illuminate our way. About half-way on our journey, snow began to fall. By the time we reached the church doors, the grass could still be seen, bristling through the new-fallen snow, but the sidewalks were only wet, since every flake dissolved upon impact. True to the weatherman’s word, we were getting a dusting.

(People walking in snow)

The church was warm, candle-lit, and filled with the sweet sounds of a choir that must have been as close as human beings can get to angelic hosts. By the time we emerged from the church, the landscape was completely transformed. The grass was covered over with three good inches and every tree branch was lined with white. The storm had come and gone, resulting in a starlit sky and a moon that no longer played second fiddle to the clouds. The dark and ill-defined landscape was illuminated, as if every neighbor had turned on their yard lights for us.

Mom and I walked down the long sidewalk and were about to cross the street, when a neighbor rolled down his car window and shouted, “Want a ride!?”

To my absolute amazement and total delight, Mom called back, “No, thank you!” Then she looked at me and smiled. I smiled back in response to her gift.

On that early Christmas morning, Mom and I walked home in the perfectly set stage of a winter wonderland; and I received a gift—my best childhood Christmas memory and my best memory with my mother.

~ A.R. Cecil

A Game of Love

09 Friday Nov 2012

Posted by vernahsimms in childhood memories, generations coming together, the healing journey

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Finding our identity, mother and daughter, personal discoveries

Editor’s note: Verna, our great-grandma author/blogger, tells this sweet story about playing the game of “drop the handkerchief” as a child. Much later she learned the original meaning of the child’s game. Our relationships with our mothers are a little like that game: In later years we may look back on our childhood interactions with our mothers and realize that the daily give-and-take was really about love: dropping hints, picking up words and habits and challenges, running with longing and hope, and making memories that would last a lifetime.

DROP THE HANDKERCHIEF

When I was very young, family size was large, and houses were small. Children spent most of their days playing outdoors in the street or vacant lots. My favorite game was “Drop the Handkerchief.” As I recall, we formed a large circle, then the person who was “it” walked around the outside and dropped a square of white cloth to the ground behind whomever they chose. That individual would pick up the hanky and chase around, racing to see who could occupy the vacant spot. It was exciting and great fun!

The year a deep depression hit the entire country, we had few luxuries. Mother’s only hobby was collecting fancy handkerchiefs. She had a few from her youth–fancy white squares of delicate cloth with colored lace trim and embroidery in one corner. She kept these treasures in a drawer, neatly folded, with perfumed sachets. I recall her loaning one with delicate blue hand-crocheted trim in fine thread, for me to carry on my wedding day. Never, ever was one of these hankies used for a practical purpose.

One day, years later, I said, “Mom, why do you prize the collection of hankies so much? You never use them.”

“Well, not now, hon.” Her dreamy eyes seemed to travel back into the past. “When I was young, a girl needed these treasures so she could meet boys. When we left church or some other function, if we saw a boy we would like to know better, we would simply drop a hanky at his feet. The boy responded by picking it up and graciously returning it or putting it in his pocket and at a later date he would show up at your door and return the possession. We always had a porch swing a boy and a girl could use to have some privacy.”

“You think the game I played all those years ago came from that?” I asked.

“I think so!” she said.

I laughed. To think that all those happy hours when I chased a boy around in a circle I was really playing a “Game of Love” and didn’t know it.

~ Verna Hill Simms

Emerging From the Cocoon

23 Tuesday Oct 2012

Posted by ardisanelson in mother wounds, reconciliation, show love by serving, the healing journey

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mother and daughter, personal discoveries, Women's Issues

(Photo: C. Lawton)

When the contributing authors of Journeys to Mother Love were asked to write posts for this blog, I was thrilled. I had been blogging for a year and felt comfortable with the format. I was finding my voice and believed that God was giving me a story to share and point people to Him. But when it comes to writing about motherly themes for this blog, I feel somewhat lost and unequipped.

Less than two years now since my mother passed, the healing of my mother-wound is still somewhat fresh. I speak openly about what happened in the process, but I am still grieving the loss incurred by the fact that I didn’t really have a mother all the years that she was living. The mothering I didn’t get has had a profound effect on who I am today.

As described in my story, “Walking My Mother Home,” tremendous healing came as the Lord led me to minister to my mother in her final years of life. While I feel more spiritually alive and emotionally whole, I know there are still parts of me that are small, that missed having a mother’s love. It opens up from time and time like a gaping hole in my heart. Thankfully those moments are becoming few and far between, and I tend to recover more quickly.

Before my mother’s stroke in July 2009, I didn’t give her much thought. We weren’t completely estranged, but I really didn’t feel like I had a mother. Since my mother was schizophrenic virtually all my life, I have no idea what went on in her mind, but I imagine she was sane enough to long for a loving daughter. In God’s infinite mercy and wisdom, that is what He gave her in the last eighteen months of her life. I didn’t know what I had missed, not having a mother-daughter relationship, until God gave me the joy of loving and caring for her.

Years ago when she gave birth to her only daughter, she couldn’t have fathomed the painful years that were ahead. Her life seemed normal. I am sure she had dreams for me and my brothers. Somewhere along the line she let go of those dreams and replaced them with fantasies fed by her mental illness.

Today, though, my mother is happily smiling at me from across my desk where I keep a photo of her, and from heaven above, with motherly pride for the woman that is now emerging from her cocoon like the butterfly that graces the cover of Journeys to Mother Love. I am like that butterfly, transformed from a shy little girl unsure of her own fate and sanity, into a woman who is more confident and free to be all that God is calling me to be. I’m even finding my own voice!

~ Ardis A. Nelson

The Gift of Faith

26 Wednesday Sep 2012

Posted by Kerry Luksic in childhood memories, the healing journey, when mom has alzheimer's

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Family, future hope, life stages, mother and daughter

My mother wasn’t a big talker. She was too busy for idle chit chat—she was raising a small army of children. In my New Jersey hometown, Mom was a living legend, an incredible woman who spent her days raising 13 children. No, that’s not a typo—13!

From sun up to sundown, she was always working—baking five dozen of her famous chocolate chip cookies, finishing the lace hem of one of my sisters’ prom dresses, and juggling the daily carpools of after-school activities. Weeks would fly by in the daily flurry of activity. But no matter how busy life got, Mom always found time for God.

As a family, Mom had countless rituals to foster our faith. From saying grace before meals and requiring us to attend 7am Sunday mass to enrolling us in Catholic elementary and high school, she showed me and my 12 siblings that faith was the foundation of our family.

And with her steady stream of faith-based encouragement, Mom taught me to turn to prayer in any challenge I faced—no matter how trivial the challenge was.

On many occasions, as a young girl, I’d cry in desperation, “Mom, I’m going to fail my math test.”

“No, you’re not. Study some more and ask God for help—say some prayers ,” she’d reply.

As a moody 15-year old, I’d shriek, “Mom, I can’t find my necklace. I lost it. It’s gone forever. My life is over!”

“Say a few Hail Mary’s and don’t forget to pray to St. Anthony,” she’d suggest.

No matter what the situation was, Mom knew the answer, and most of the time that answer was found in faith. Through her lifelong encouragement of prayer, Mom taught me that God could fix all my “little problems,” and proved to me how faith could be a source of infinite strength.

When my dad was diagnosed with terminal cancer during my senior year of high school, Mom remained the steady rock for my unstable family. Six months later when Dad died, Mom leaned on her faith and was unbreakable.

As I felt my heart break into a million pieces, and as I cried bitter tears of regret for all that was left unsaid between my father and me, Mom refused to shed one tear. Instead, she picked up the pieces in my shattered family—attending daily mass, saying the rosary, and maintaining her life-must-go-on attitude.

During those dark days, Mom’s unflinching faith became the source light. I watched my mom and knew that if she could keep moving forward despite having just lost her husband of 35 years—then so could I. Mom knew that we needed to celebrate my father’s life—instead of crumbling in despair.

Mom’s lifelong example of faith has proven to be one of her greatest gifts to me. When she was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease eight years ago, I was devastated. I felt angry with God for “letting this” happen to her. But in time, I learned to follow Mom’s example—accept the things I can’t change, to let go of my fears, and to rely on my faith to cope with the heartbreak of Alzheimer’s—seeing someone you love slip away before your eyes.

Alzheimer’s isn’t an easy road for anyone. But by reflecting on my mother’s lesson of faith, I’ve learned to be present in her world and to savor the joyful moments I have with her.

Yes, it’s true—Alzheimer’s has stolen pieces of Mom from me. But I choose to focus on what remains, instead of what is missing. I treasure the gift of faith she bestowed on me. And I strive to pass this incredible gift along to my daughters.

~ Kerry Luksic

Mother Loss ~ Grieving and Growing

18 Tuesday Sep 2012

Posted by Catherine Lawton in childhood memories, encouraging each other, leaving a legacy, losing mom too soon

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future hope, life and death, life stages, mother and daughter

My mother and me many years ago

One time I got a haircut then went home and looked in the mirror. The first, unbidden word that popped into my mind was, “Mother.” It surprised me. I didn’t expect to see my mother in my own reflection.

There is so much of our mothers in us. At different stages of life we may fight that truth, deny it, or even embrace it.

As a small child, I longed to be like Mother. Compared to me, she seemed powerful, persuasive and capable. I craved the ability to play the piano as she did. I wanted to be liked by people, listened to, and considered “the life of the party” as she was. I wanted a man to adore me as my father adored her.
As a teen, my view of Mother changed. Her flaws and foibles grew large in my eyes. I was critical of her. I didn’t always appreciate her advice. I did not think I wanted to be like her.
As a young mother, I found myself saying the same words to my children that she used to say to me and my sister. As my children grew, I saw more and more that she had been right in most of her advice; and her foibles began to look more like strengths. I began to appreciate how she had overcome so much.
In my middle age, I have wished she was still here so I could ask for her advice and learn more about “how she did it.” I have many times sensed her cheering me on as part of the “great cloud of witnesses” described in Hebrews 12:1.
In old age, I think I’m going to feel more and more that Mother and I are kindred spirits, sisters in the Lord. I’ll be filled with hope as I think of seeing her again, and as I recall how she overcame that last earthly challenge and our final enemy – death.

For a few years after Mother died, I was overwhelmed with memories of the suffering she endured from cancer, and with my own feelings of loss. So much grieving! Many years later it’s wonderful to be able to think of Mother as a fellow traveler who has reached the goal ahead of me, is expecting me to arrive in God’s time, and through her words lingering in my mind, her example and her prayers, is encouraging me on the last stretch of my upward climb.

When my mother passed from this life to the next (lying in a hospital bed), she was looking straight upward, fixedly, and with a look of wonder exclaiming, “Oh, it’s so beautiful.”

I want to live the way she died—looking upward, with my eyes fixed on Jesus, focusing on beauty, truth, and the goodness of God.