Wednesday, March 4, 2015

The Most Important Lesson

My mom was awesome at pretty near everything.  At least that's what my brain holds on to.  A few exceptions include most things to do with fashion, and mastering even the simplest remote control.  Seriously, to the very end we kids would beg her to cut her losses and let us control the remote.

Mom taught me all kinds of stuff.  Basics, like how to cook and clean and sew.  How check out a book at the library when you wanted to do something you didn’t know how to do.  How to garden.  Paint.  Budget.  Hang wallpaper.  Clean a room ankle-deep in junk.  What to do when you run out of gas at an intersection.  [I’m pretty sure that was an accidental lesson.  Especially since she looked over at middle-schooler Leslie and said, “You don’t need to bring this up with your father.”]

She taught me that being a follower of Jesus is journey of errors and path corrections.  That no one’s perfect and sincere apologies are important.  That there is never an excuse to treat someone or something weaker than you unkindly.  That people are created in God’s image, regardless of how they look, think, act, dress, smell, or speak, and that one should always be aware of that.

Going into the woods with Mom was always an adventure.  She drew our attention to the small miracles of God’s creation- the things you miss if you’re not looking.  A tiny flower.  A mushroom (in spite of the hours I’ve spent hunting morels, I’m still terrible at it).  The mark of an animal who had passed this way before.

Some of Mom’s lessons changed my whole outlook on life.  During my sophomore year of high school, I had an art class with a girl who despised me.  She wasn’t in my grade and I’d had no previous interaction with her, so I was mystified that she should seem to hate me for no apparent reason.  One day I was telling Mom how, no matter how nice I tried to be to this girl, she was still spiteful in return.  Mom said, “Honey, not everyone has to like you.”  Wow.  HUGE paradigm shift for me.  What a relief!

This month would have been my mom’s 63 birthday.  The 10th birthday since she graduated to heaven.  It’s strange to think that had she lived, she would be 10 years older than I remember her, and a grandma six times over.  I wonder if she would have had grey hair?  She wouldn’t have minded, though.  After losing her hair to chemo twice, her motto was, “Any day with hair is a good hair day!” 

I miss my mom.  I miss getting to learn from her.  Normal, boring lessons.  Deep, profound ones.  I miss running errands with her.  And those days when we’d have lunch together.  Being able to use her as a reference for nearly any question.  Enjoying a fire in the fireplace when it was cold; sweating it out in the summer heat because Mom always insisted that hot fresh air was better than cool, stale air.  I miss laughing with her until tears started forming in her eyes.  I miss her hugs.  Being called Tall Daughter when she needed something off the top shelf.  Calling her Shorty.  Disagreeing about music.  Just enjoying one another’s company.   Knowing that she knew me better than any other person on earth, and she still loved me without reservation. 

I think that last one was the best lesson.  If that's the only one I manage to learn, that'll be a win.