The older I get the more I love and respect my Mommy. She is the sweetest, most gracious soul you will ever meet. Everything I learned about being a lady I learned from her, and what I didn’t learn wasn’t because she didn’t try. Lord knows she had her work cut out for her.
You see I was what they call a strong-willed child. We’re a special breed that requires a little extra energy, ingenuity and determination delivered with a huge dose of persuasion. I know some of you know what I’m talking about because you’re living with one right now. Every time they open their mouths you can’t decide whether you want to laugh, cry or wring their little necks. Most likely it’s all three.
I remember one particular incident that sent Mommy and I both to the edge. It was all because of my blasted 10th grade home economics class. I was doing fine right up until the sewing section. The assignment was to make an article of clothing so off to the fabric store we went.
Now, before I tell you the story I need to set the stage. My mother is a seamstress. Straight up through high school, she made most of my clothes. In fact, most of the women in my family sew. My grandmother and great-grandmother quilted and sewed beautifully. So I quite naturally assumed I too could sew. Never mind that I had never tried to sew anything in my life – I was obviously genetically predisposed.
The first battle was at the fabric store. I chose a pattern that was a really cute jumper dress. “Kat, I don’t think you want to make that. It has a lot of parts.” Ever the diplomat, Mommy was trying to gently dissuade me. “So? It’s a pattern. I’ll just follow the instructions.” Says the overly confident child who has yet to learn to heed good advice.
Then I decided I wanted corduroy. Again, Mom tried to tell me to pick another fabric – something easier to work with. We went round and round until she finally said, okay let’s get it and go. Dummy me counted it a victory that I had finally worn her down. Insightful Mommy knew if I couldn’t see it I’d soon feel it.
So began what would later become my month of pure hell. As it turned out, there were no sewing genes in my DNA. Instead, I became very well acquainted with the seam ripper – over and over again. By the time that stupid jumper was due to be turned in I didn’t care what it looked like. I never wanted to wear it, and I certainly was not sitting down to a sewing machine EVER again.
It was almost midnight and I was still fighting with the sewing machine to connect the last few pieces. Mommy finally told me to put it down and go to bed. But it’s due tomorrow, I said. You’ll have it done tomorrow. For now, just go get some sleep.
I figured she’d wake me up in the morning so that I could finish before going to school. But to my surprise, when I got up the next morning the jumper was laying neatly folded on top of the sewing machine – beautiful and complete.
I was so happy and grateful I could’ve wept. To this day, I can feel the relief flowing through my body as I clutched that jumper to my chest like it was worth a $1million. For at least the next few hours, my Mommy was my hero.
I know some of you think I deserved to flunk sewing. You’re probably right. Perhaps that is why this moment in time sticks out for me so. Mommy could have let me fail, and by doing so teach me a lesson about not listening and following instructions. Instead, she chose to help me and model grace.
I loved her so much for that generous gift. Even when it didn’t seem like it, I realize now she understood me so well. In modeling the behavior she wanted to see in me she helped me learn to bend my own will, while being careful not to break my spirit.
And that, to me, is love. More than anyone else in my life, my Mother accepts me as I am and believes that I am enough. Generous and kind, she taught me to offer that same acceptance and encouragement to others.
She also taught me that even if I don’t get it right the first time I can try and try again…which is why I have a tiny sewing machine in my closet. Every once in a while I pull it out and make a few stitches. Because one day I might have a granddaughter, and I am determined to continue sewing up a mother’s love.
Wishing you and yours a happy and joyful Mother’s Day! Love and Blessings…
mrscrystalgking says
This makes me feel soooo good! It helped me reflect on the times my mother has demonstrated grace and also the times that I’ve done it for my son. A mother’s love is an AMAZING thing. Happy Mother’s Day!