Sunday, May 8, 2011
love ya, ma
Warning: this post is a long one. It's a woeful tale with a happy ending, brought on by none other than my mother. Read on for just one example of her greatness.
Written October 14, 2010
We are moving. If not moving our stuff, moving our bodies as we tackle the incredible list of projects that daily seem more and more insurmountable. Every day it seems like I'm scrubbing something. And every day I find more things that need to be scrubbed. And every day that goes by means one less day that I have to get everything done.
You see, we bought a new house, a short sale. It's clean enough to live in, but not clean enough (yet) to unpack our stuff into. Everything is dusty, or grimy, or covered in hard water stains. So our possessions are sprawled out on the floor, waiting for us to stumble, visually displaying the chaos that is our life right now.
Because it wasn't enough to just buy a new house. Due to the economy, we also must rent out our former house. Which means before I can dedicate energy to making the new house a home, I must first remove any evidence of my residency in the former house. In some ways, it's a really extended good-bye. In other ways, it's a labor of love that makes me realize what I'm leaving behind. Open cabinetry. A washing machine that doesn't eat my clothes. A roomy refrigerator. An efficient microwave. Why, I ask myself, did we think this was a good idea? I know that with God all things are possible, and that the Bible commands us to be thankful for our trials, and that in the grand scheme of things, this is hardly a trial at all, that the new house has so many greater features than its appliances, but none of these truths could penetrate my overwhelmed and overtired mind as I scrubbed walls clear of scuff marks.
So I cracked. I cracked so completely that pathetic hardly describes the state I was in. The moment we got in the car to go back to our new home, the lip started quivering and the eyes started leaking and there was no stopping the pity party that I was having. Through my blubbering, I was able to get out the words, "I want my mom."
My mom is always there for me. Always. And she is always encouraging, even if that means she has to stretch the truth to make the situation seem better than it really is. Even if I know she's just saying it to make me feel better, knowing that is her intent actually does make me feel better. She's also an incredibly hard worker, so having her by your side makes scrubbing anything seem breezy. Unfortunately, she lives a 4 hour drive away.
The next morning, my ever-thoughtful husband sent my mom a text prompting her to call her daughter because she was having a rough time. She called, I unloaded, she said she wished she could come but she had obligations every weekend for the next month and a half. I understood, and told her I'd get through this, that it was okay, and thanks for listening.
Within an hour I got another phone call.
"Lisa? I spoke to your father and he thinks I should come, too, so I'm leaving tonight and I'll clean all day tomorrow - all day - I don't need breaks - and then I'll just drive back on Saturday for my party."
Did I mention she lives a 4 hour drive away?
Relief, pure relief surged through my body only to be overpowered by incredible love and appreciation for my mother. She is really the best. (So is my father for encouraging her to make the drive, but this isn't father's day, is it?)
So today I am celebrating, because I truly am sooo HAPPY to have my MOTHER'S presence any DAY.
Image: Vintage Mug by RubiesAreForever