There is no doubt in my mind that my mother loved me deeply. I think she loved me a whole lot. I was not always as sure she liked me. My fiancé used to ask me often, "Why do you allow her to speak to you like that? How do you stand for that?" I always had the same response. "Because I love her and I am trying to understand and respect what her love has been through." Loving my mother taught me the thin line between love and pain. Sometimes, often times they rode in on the same horse. Once my mother told me, "If I tell you something and it hurts, then it won't hurt so bad when the world tells you the same." I never understood that. I understood the words being spoken, but I never identified with the strategy she put behind it.
I don't judge the pain within. I seek the deliverance of love. It is very difficult to have one without the other if you have not dealt with them openly. Pain causes you to project onto other people. I know that firsthand through my mother. Love allows for tolerance and forgiveness that pains often requires.
I will never really know my mother's story. She was so secretive. I am not sure it is important that I ever know it all. I do know that I felt needed by her, loved by her and at all times like she would move heaven and earth to get to me if I needed her. She gave of herself til it hurt. Many times I saw in her that it hurt to give. It made her emotionally vulnerable. Likely somebody in her past owed her an apology that never came. That generational misstep caused her to become a guarded, cautious, hardened, suspicious soul. It also made way for her to become steadfastly protective of her own, strong, determined, driven, and above all courageous.
I really loved my momma. She put some great qualities in me. I really wish she had lived long enough to know that I understood more about her pain than I let on and that I accepted her love without judgment.
"Are we done yet?", she asked. My response, "Mom you are welcome to go but I wish you would stay." Because I loved her and even through my pain she caused, I knew she loved me.
I don't judge the pain within. I seek the deliverance of love. It is very difficult to have one without the other if you have not dealt with them openly. Pain causes you to project onto other people. I know that firsthand through my mother. Love allows for tolerance and forgiveness that pains often requires.
I will never really know my mother's story. She was so secretive. I am not sure it is important that I ever know it all. I do know that I felt needed by her, loved by her and at all times like she would move heaven and earth to get to me if I needed her. She gave of herself til it hurt. Many times I saw in her that it hurt to give. It made her emotionally vulnerable. Likely somebody in her past owed her an apology that never came. That generational misstep caused her to become a guarded, cautious, hardened, suspicious soul. It also made way for her to become steadfastly protective of her own, strong, determined, driven, and above all courageous.
I really loved my momma. She put some great qualities in me. I really wish she had lived long enough to know that I understood more about her pain than I let on and that I accepted her love without judgment.
"Are we done yet?", she asked. My response, "Mom you are welcome to go but I wish you would stay." Because I loved her and even through my pain she caused, I knew she loved me.
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