Month: May 2018

           “The moment a child is born, the mother is also born.  She never existed before. The woman existed, but the mother, never.  A mother is something absolutely new.”—Bhagwan Shree Rajneesh

 

          

           This weekend, I will be traveling, once again, to the Wheeling/Bethany, WV area.  My husband, John, and I will be making this trip together in order to pack up our daughter, Madelyn’s, belongings for the summer.  She will remain at Bethany College with the few items she needs for the next few days in order to study and take her final exams before returning home mid-week.  

           A few weeks prior, when Maddie came home for a rare and quick weekend visit, it occurred to her, as we discussed the plan, that we would be moving her possessions on Mother’s Day weekend.

           “Sorry, Mom, that’s not much of a Mother’s Day present,” she said half-laughing, but I could see the remorse in her eyes.

           “Sure, it is,” I replied.  “I am spending time with you—Best. Present. Ever.”

 

           

          Maddie, being Maddie, rolled her eyes at me, but I spoke the truth—at least for the most part.  Did I look forward to lugging totes, boxes, and bags out of her dorm room, into John’s truck, and into the house once home?  Well, that is not exactly the most exciting part, but I am glad to do it. In fact, I am happy to help move her belongings for many reasons.

           First, and foremost, I am spending time with my daughter, the young woman who birthed me into motherhood.   I still fondly recall those nine months of pregnancy. Okay, the morning sickness was not that fun, but everything else was filled with wonderment.  

 

          

           Pregnancy in the late 1990s meant no gender-reveal party, no 3-D ultrasound images, no social media blasts, and so forth.  John and I did not even own a computer at that time. Instead, I went to the library often, and checked out multiple books on pregnancy, purchased the classic book, What to Expect When You’re Expecting by Heidi Murkoff and Sharon Mazel (now in its fifth edition and considered to be one of the most influential books of the past 25 years), and eagerly called family to share to the news once we found out we were having a girl.

 

          

           As my belly expanded, I would gently caress it, thinking about the new life growing inside of me.  I talked, sang, and even read aloud to her. John would lean down in the evenings, put his hands on my stomach, and speak to her as well because, “She needed to know her Dad’s voice too!”

           The first time I saw her foot pressing against my stretched mid-section, I cried—such a miracle of life growing inside me.  It was a time in my life when I felt as if I was God’s assistant in creating and caring for life. Thus, why would I mind helping her move most of her things out of her dorm room nearly 19 years later?

           Secondly, helping my daughter move out at the end of an academic year is an act of celebration.  After all she successfully completed her first year of college as well as her first year of semi-adulthood.  (I say “semi” in that, we hold her accountable for and respect her decisions, but she is not yet 100% financially independent.) That first year away from home in college is not an easy transition.  Maddie, not only made it through, but also achieved a few significant milestones along the way for which John and I feel extremely proud.

 

          Maddie always loved to draw pictures for me as well as leave me notes when she was small.

 

           Thirdly, helping her move her out allows me to feel part of her life-away-from-home.  While there, we will have the opportunity to connect with her friends, walk the paths she daily ambles, and perhaps gain a bit more insight into life at Bethany College.  I don’t mean to imply I wish to hover; rather, it’s more about a genuine interest into the person Maddie is becoming, the person who made me, “Mom”.

 

                     In fact, she still leaves me notes.          

 

           Finally, while the trip will be a whirlwind of activity that will most likely create some fatigue, John and I will have some down time together.  The trip to and from Bethany traverses some beautiful scenery that we both enjoy sharing. It will grant us an opportunity to talk without interruption.  Plus, it will also give us the gift of shared quiet—something that is often undervalued in our society.

 

                    Maddie certainly “baptized” John and I into parenthood!          

 

           It’s funny, while writing this; a memory has repeatedly popped up in my mind’s eye.  It is a fuzzy, movie-like image of driving to work towards the end of my pregnancy. May was in its full-glory as the morning sun glowed through my windshield.  While waiting at a rather long red light, I began to rub my distended belly, as I was less than three weeks away from Maddie’s birth. Unexpected tears of joy began streaming down my face in that moment at the thought of soon meeting my daughter.   Now, I get to feel that sensation again as John and I drive to see and embrace our child once more. Life is good, and I am blessed. What more could I ask for on Mother’s Day?

           

           

 

            “A person’s a person, no matter how small.”—Dr. Seuss

 

“To deal with individual human needs at the everyday level can be noble sometimes.”—Jimmy Carter

 

 

“Mamaw, Can I have one of those books?” asked the ingenuous boy of about four or five years.

 

He was wearing YMCA soccer clothes, and by the look of them, he had already played in his morning youth league game. The boy and his grandmother were in line in front of me at the Starbuck kiosk inside of a grocery store. There was a kid’s book section directly across from the coffee area, and it was filled with colorful, inviting books.

 

As a current middle school Language Arts teacher and former kindergarten teacher, I was impressed that the young fellow was interested in books as so many kids are far more interested in screen time. Oh, how I would have enjoyed walking him over to the bookshelf and allowing him to read, or at the very least, look through, a few of those books as I would have done years ago with my own daughter when she was his age.

 

“Mamaw, please.  Can I just go look at the books?” the young lad implored this time carefully patting his grandmother’s arm.   She ignored this request in the same manner in which she had ignored his first by incessantly talking to the lady behind the Starbucks counter.

 

 

From my vantage point, I perceived the slightest flicker of irritation cross the Starbucks’ employee’s face due to the grandmother’s persistent barrage of questions, but then, quickly fade. Despite the fact the employee was politely answering the questions based upon Starbucks’ policies/products, the grandmother kept debating with her.  Nevertheless, I will hand it to this employee; she remained patient even as the grandmother continued her demands.

 

“Mamaw, can I please look at the books?” The boy tenderly tapped his grandmother’s arm once more.

 

“No!  Now, stop bugging me!”

 

The boy hung his head, and his face turned bright red.

 

“I was just kidding, Mamaw,” stated the boy after a few moments in such a way to show contrition, and he returned to patting his grandmother’s arm once more as she ignored him again.

 

You can bet Champ, my mom’s oldest great-grandchild is not ignored by his grandmother, my sister, Rachel, or his great-grandmother.

 

Her questions and demands to the meek employee continued, and I felt my own frustration grow in this situation. I wanted to take the boy over to the book area, tell the grandmother to give the kid and the Starbucks’ employee a break, and just place her order while I read to her sweet grandchild. Instead, I remained quiet.

 

“Mamaw, I was just kidding,” implored the boy once more as his eyes looked up at his grandmother seemingly with the hope of her to noticing his remorse, but she remained focused on her questions.

 

It was then I saw a tear trickle down the little boy’s face, and my mom-heart broke.   It was a silent tear that I recognized as his soundless hurt, and I sensed this was not his first time to be ignored and/or treated badly by an adult.  I was so absorbed in watching the boy; I had not realized the grandmother had finally placed her order until she jerked the kid by his arm.

 

 

“Get over here with Mamaw, now!  Can’t you see we need to move over here so I can get my iced tea?”

 

The little fellow said, “Sorry, Mamaw,” hung his head, and obediently began walking.

 

Stunned, I stood there for a moment, and before I could say anything, I noticed the Starbucks’ employee reach into the bakery counter, pull out a pink cake-pop, gently place it in a crisp white bakery bag, and hand it over the counter to the grandmother.

 

“Can he have this?” the Starbucks’ employee sweetly asked.

 

The grandmother snapped it out of the employee’s hand, impatiently passed it to the boy, and said, “Here you go,” with no hint of gratitude or consideration in her voice, and she resumed her nonstop complaint session with the employee.

 

 

“Can I eat it now?” the little boy asked with a bit of hope as he once again gently patted his grandmother’s arm and longingly looked up at her.  He was never answered—at least not in my presence.  I watched as he clutched the bag tightly in one hand, looked down at it, glanced up at his grandmother, and then looked down again as his shoulders sagged.

 

 

As I contemplated the scene driving home, I was reminded of an article I had read earlier that same morning entitled, “The 6 Human Needs for Fulfillment,” by Cloe Madanes.  The reading was part of my yoga teacher training.  My teacher, Katrina Mailloux, had encouraged us this month to spend time reflecting upon these needs and noticing how we can share these needs with others.  These six needs include: certainty/comfort, uncertainty/variety, significance, love/connection, growth, and contribution.

 

 

Clearly, the little boy longed to feel certain in his relationship with his grandmother.  He seemed to yearn for the variety, and perhaps growth, that a book might offer him.  Additionally, he displayed his desire to feel significant and important in his grandmother’s eyes as he did not look at any one else but her.  He plainly desired love and connection—a hug, a smile, or a tender pat on his head—yet, he received none of those.

 

 

John and I have both had the privilege of working with special students as pictured her left to right, Kaity Brumfield with John and Brenna Chapman.  Teaching is reciprocal experience in that we meet many needs of fulfillment with our students, and likewise, they meet many of our needs.

 

Sadly, this child’s emotional growth has the potential to be stunted if the grandmother’s behavior is a reflection of how he is frequently treated.  And, while the young boy would not be able to articulate this, I do sense he was trying to contribute to his grandmother’s needs by remaining compliant and obedient.  Furthermore, instead of the grandmother going beyond her own personal needs, it was the Starbucks’ employee who attempted to contribute a bit of positivity into the youngster’s day.  It struck me as both sad, but somewhat refreshing—at least with regards to the employee’s behavior

 

It is worth remembering that every person we encounter has the same needs as we do—even that grandmother.  The Starbucks employee exemplified this to me in her every action.  She remained calm, kind, and considerate to the grandmother’s demands.  Additionally, her behavior reflected her recognition of the grandmother’s need to feel significant.  At the same time, she noticed the boy’s need for comfort, significance, connection, variety, and growth.  While she could not give him a book, she gave what she could. And, that, in the words of Jimmy Carter, was indeed a noble event.  One from which we could all benefit if we would interject more of that understanding and behavior into our daily interactions and practices.