When I was little, I was traumatized by my mother's gray grandma hair and varicose veins (now I sport nasty veins as well- yay...?). All my friends at school had moms who were young. I didn't. I'm the youngest of 6 and my mom was 38 when I was born (yep, I was a "surprise"). I realize that 38 really isn't "old," but when you're 7 or 8, you think having a mom in her 40's really makes you different than everyone else, and that's bad. Sadly enough, my feelings toward her only intensified as a teenager. I mean, really. What teenager thinks his/her mom is cool? Most don't. I was no exception. All growing up I wanted to emulate as many of my father's traits as possible, and to minimize anything resembling my mom. She was so, well, nerdy. I was certain everyone else saw it too.
My first 3 years of college she and my father were serving a church mission in South Korea. The last night I spent in the house where I grew up, before they left, was a memorable one. My mom and I sat on the floor of my empty bedroom, in the dark, staring at all the glow-in-the-dark stars on my ceiling and walls, crying and sharing memories. I knew, that even though I never really liked my mom, I loved her. All those years growing up I never once doubted her love for me. Despite my immature and negative feelings, I always knew I could confide in her, that she cared, and always wanted what was best for me.
Years later, after college, a mission of my own in Brazil, and the passing of my father, I was living with her again. Habits of her's still irked me. I hated it when she'd fold my laundry (she didn't do it right). I got annoyed when she'd want to have group prayer. I found myself getting ridiculously irritated with her over things I knew were pointless. Hadn't I matured at all? Perhaps not. I eventually came to the realization that I needed outside help if I was ever going to love my mother freely.
For a while I saw a therapist. He helped me with various issues, including the incorrect ways I viewed my dear, angelic mother. I remember one day watching her speak in church and it hit me. Here was a woman who had struggled with depression, already lost both her parents, and had been trying her upmost to be a good mom, wife, and woman. Maybe I had been expecting perfection out of her. How unfair and cruel of me. I finally saw my mom as a dynamic person. I saw her for who she really was.
The irony of it all is that through all those years she never let my awful treatment towards her really get to her. She kept loving me anyways. I'm sure she had plenty of moments when she wanted to wring my neck. But I never knew. I never felt anything but love from her. I not once deserved it, and was given it anyways.
She is one of the proofs that God does not give up on us. If someone as ornery as I is given such a mother to perhaps learn to love, than we are all given ample chances to be better. Oddly enough, being the mother to a leukemia patient has provided more such opportunities. We have witnessed some of the best of humanity as people have reached out, given presents, money, time, food, etc. This past fall we witnessed even more.
Derek qualifies for Make A Wish. The evening he officially declared his wish was magical. I have been blessed to have lots of loving people in my life, but not once have I been treated like we were that night. I felt like our little family was the most important in the world. Now, come March, we will head to Florida to party it up in Legoland, Disney World, and Sea World! Wahoo! Honestly, it still doesn't seem real. Weird.
A few weeks ago, Make A Wish called. A local high school is doing their yearly fundraiser for them and they like to have the face of a "wish child" to promote their efforts. I was asked if Derek could be that face. What?! How could I decline? In all of this cancer stuff, I've usually wanted to keep it all in the shadows, not talk about it unless it was on my terms. I knew this was a chance to let go of that and just let it all be.
The Friday before Halloween, Derek and I went to the kick-off assembly. I figured we'd be treated kindly, but my expectations were not only exceeded, they were blown out of the water. Derek was pretty much a celebrity. The student council members wanted to know everything about him- interests, favorite movies, favorite toys, friends, etc. The treated him like their favorite younger brother. As a mother, they won me over (secret: if you want to win the heart of a mother, be good to her children).
When Derek and I went up on stage for me to talk a bit about him, his situation, and such, that whole teenage student body stood and cheered. It stunned me. I'm surprised I didn't break in to tears. Poor Derek didn't quite know how to take it. He clung to me. As I started talking, he relaxed. At one point he sat down, right on the stage, because he was bored. Typical 7 year old. 😊 His humility. His natural love for others. His eagerness to be friendly and accept people. I saw all of that in his simple behavior on that stage.
Once again, the generosity of strangers softened my naturally thorny heart. I guess the hardest part of all of it is this: I'm not that nice of a person! Why are they being so nice to me? If they really knew me I don't think they'd bother. But it's for Derek! I can't deny him because of my faults.
I'm learning to be gracious (well, awkwardly). I have a desire to pay it forward more than I knew was possible. I've seen more of the connection we all share as children of God. We honor it when we love and forgive. We deny it when we bicker, blame, and hold on to grudges. I want to do more of the former, not the latter. Denying that connection between us all does not make me happy. Honoring it brings me the most joy and happiness I've yet experienced. So, one day at a time, I'll try to find opportunities to serve, pay it forward, and make people feel special. Who doesn't want more of that?
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