A Brave Woman

A couple of weeks ago at 1:12 a.m., I was sitting in my front room by the Christmas tree and sent a quick note to my mother who lives halfway around the world. 

I was thinking about what I've learned from her, mostly as I've watched how she has lived her life. 

My mom's a brave and strong woman, and she has been through a lot. 

 Dear Mom,

I meant to email you this morning and then things got going with my day and I didn't get to it. I'm emailing now, late, before I go to bed. All I have to say is this:

I love you.

And I appreciate you. 

Your life and example continue to shape how I look at the world, and I'm grateful for the ways that you inspire me:

To take steps into the dark,

to examine your questions, 

to be authentic, honest, and vulnerable, 

to do the hard thing, 

to not make fun of another's weakness,

to love learning, 

to live in simplicity while acknowledging, 

in the same breath, 

gratitude and abundance;

these things and more.

xoxo

E

Thinking About My Mother

(My mom with all of her children -- five lucky girls.)

Yesterday was Mothers Day.

I was sick and spent most of the afternoon in bed.

But I was greeted in the morning by cards from each of the children and Mr. C.

He thanked me for the complete investment I make and the work that I do.

But the thing I've thought about ever since I read his card was this phrase:

"Your version of motherhood is what we celebrate today.  The way that you do it and the way that you make our family feel." (emphasis added)

I guess I appreciated the stamp of approval on the way that I choose to do it, because each of us mothers so differently.  And, often, I think every one I know doesn't always measure up to the mother they wish they were. 

I found myself thinking about my mother yesterday, about the things I feel I specifically learned from her example.

To do my best.

To be honest -- in my decisions, in how I feel, in my interactions with others.  Don't cut corners.

When you clean, do it right.  (I remember her Saturday morning checking off the chores.)

Be fair.

To be courageous and true to yourself.

To not be afraid of other people or other ideas, but rather, to see the beauty in them.

Be frugal.  Evaluate needs and wants, and don't spend money recklessly.

Books are a lovely, magical, wonderful, warm place.  An escape.  Old friends.  Ideas and knowledge and improving yourself are worthwhile.

She gave us lots of room to be children and be imaginative.  When I sometimes start to feel guilty that I maybe should have been more involved with my children on any one day, I remember this about my mother.  

She's a good listening ear.

She'll cry with you when you're sad.

She celebrates the triumphs.

My mother is a classy woman,  but without pretense and certainly not showy.  I love these things about her so much.  The older I get, the more I appreciate her, and the more I see myself in her.  I love the generation of mothers that I've come from -- the legacy of mothering from other hands and other times and other homes.

All I know is that motherhood has been the great privilege of my life, and I feel profoundly grateful for my own mother, and other women who have been exemplars and role models for me.

Truly, it's a wonderful work.

Being a Mom

It is a beautiful morning outside.

As I'm sitting here my little Meems is singing "Where is Thumkin?," a tribute to my mom.

To this day I still love watching my mom sing songs and do fingerplays with the kids.

Just one of many things I remember, like cold macaroni salad after an afternoon at the pool and walking home thru the park with long licorice ropes.

I love my mother.

She comes home in a month, and I can't wait!

My being-a-mom today?

school with the little Miss

folding a mountain of laundry

maybe some weeding

sidewalk chalk with the kids

and a round of Old Maid

read me some Stuart Little to the little people

sign up the kids for swimming lessons

firm up plans for next week

Hope you have a good Wednesday.

Letter for the 1st of March

Thinking about you tonight. I've tidied up, hauled out my Spring/Easter decorations to put up tomorrow in spite of the snowflakes falling outside. 

It's beautiful, but I'll turn a blind eye and put green and blossoms on the mantle and encourage the daffodils pushing up thru the ground outside the front window. I'm about to turn in with my book and snuggle the down comforter.

I hope you're well. It's a comforting thought to know that I can click a button and off it will go to find you. It will travel thru the cold, wintry night here to a bright (I hope) morning there - in an instant! 

 So, if you happen to be at your desk this fine morning as it arrives, you'll know I'm thinking of you, right now, and wishing you a lovely first of March. I love you.

xoxo

Letters

 (pics of my Mom with Mia)

 My mom made a big move to the Middle East this past weekend for a new job.

I am so proud of her.

She's almost 61, and went to teach at a school that was founded with the express purpose of educating women to be leaders.
I think it's brave.  She went without knowing anyone.
I love my mom.
From her example she teaches me to think for myself, to stand alone if that's what it means, to be honest in my feelings and how I express them, to be brave, to be okay in my own skin, to not stop learning, to be considerate of others, to never laugh at or mock something different from myself and to respect all peoples.

That's a tall order.

I'm trying to live up to them.

I love these legacies.
This is something to be proud of.
Thank you, Mom.

Each day we're doing schoolwork, we do something with reading and something with writing.
So, we wrote letters last week. 
To my grandparents, who we were going to visit.



 To give well wishes to my mother, beginning this new chapter and adventure.


 We added scratch-n-sniff stickers.
 And wrote these cards for my sister who is recovering from knee surgery AGAIN.


These are so cute I couldn't not share them.
I am proud of these boys.

Mia wanted to write letters, too, so I helped.



As I was getting ready to post these the other day, I thought about how much I love letters.

Super heart heart love them.
They are so romantic and timeless.
There is something about taking the time to put pen to paper, to personalize them with your own handwriting, something that calls back yesteryear in today's frenzy of gmail and text and everything quick quick quick. It's a beautiful thing to take the time for personal, quaint, charming touches that say I CARE.
I've written a few letters in my day.
I think about the role they've played in my life.
I have cards and letters saved in the hope chest at the foot of my bed, in scrapbooks, tucked in corners of desks and stacks to be organized into meaningful reminiscences.
Each a tangible reminder of someone significant in my small world, of a specific time, of how that person influenced and blessed my life.

I went to the letters that Scott and I exchanged on his mission.  
We have four huge binders of letters.

 I looked at the fun letterheads, at the cutouts of Calvin & Hobbes' comic strips, various pics that were part of this or that joke, nicknames, bunches of hand-drawn flowers.

I choked up as I read expression after expression at the beginning or ending of his letters to me -- about what an amazing woman he thought I was, about being such a lucky guy, about how beautiful I was, how special I was to him.
He was so focused as a missionary, so dedicated.
(In fact, later on, I wished he would say a few more of those cute things because he was so into the work.  I knew he loved what he was doing, 100%.  But it was lovely he was so dedicated to truth that I felt so passionately about, too.)  

I knew he had me tucked away in a safe place, tho.
I was reminded of this the other day, and became pretty emotional.

I had forgotten.
One of my favorite parts that I read in those few minutes was a snippet where he remembered the night that he really kissed me for the first time.  And he said something like, "Honestly, I knew I wanted to be with you forever from that night."
I'm more grateful today for his companionship than I was then.
We've been through a helluva lot more.
I feel more bound to him.
But I look back and I see these seeds that were planted.
I see things I've forgotten.
I felt gratitude again.
I felt like a little dry, parched piece of earth in my memory of time got some rain, and little flowers remembered how to grow over there.
A beautiful, shocking, outcropping of wildflowers abloom again.

I plan to order a copy of THIS book I read years ago, but want to read again.

I keep thinking about it.
I loved it.
This is a lovely, lovely compilation.
So romantic.
So sweet and genuine.
Charming and heartfelt.
Inspiring.

Maybe you wanna order it too and get into the valentine love?
And maybe you also wanna join my personal goal for the week and send out a few handwritten somethings?
A card, a letter, something genuine and with a personal touch?
I do, I do!