Not always pious, not always preachy. Not always perfect. Not always stuffy; parents are mostly uncertain, unheard, underpaid and unrehearsed. They are blamed for bad teeth, acne, traumatizing their children, and not keeping up with the Joneses. They are expected to produce a perfect product on the first or second try with no previous experience and with such a variety of instruction booklets that Henry Ford would probably have come up with a Model A Rickshaw using comparable material.
What do parents feel? What are they really thinking when they look at their teenagers? Are they disapproving of you? Are they looking for some fault to pounce upon? Why do they criticize? Why do they seem to nag all they time? Well, here comes straight talk from one of the ‘othersiders’. In the midst of teenagers and grade-schoolers, I had the audacity of speaking for the majority of mothers. This inside look at your mother’s head might sound a bit sentimental at times, but I’ve a feeling you might like to hear a little more of that. Mainly because it’s rather hard for us mothers to say what we really feel to our cool young sons and daughters.
~*~
What do I see when I look at you? Well, I see part of me and part of your father. But I see more than that. I see a big part of my life. I see the baby who was a miracle of perfection. I see the struggle to be a person. I usually see you as a little younger than you are and I keep thinking I should somehow be able to protect you from the hurts and frustrations of the world. I see the real you peeking from behind the latest fads and fashions. I see your personality taking shape. When you and your brothers and sisters quarrel, I wonder if you will be close and loving when you are grown and have your own families. I look forward to the day when you begin bringing home young men with that starry-eyed look that says, “I think he loves ME!” Or when you, son, begin to mention rather often a pretty young lady.
And I look forward to the day when the house will ring with the laughter of families who have sprung from the love between your father and me. The grandchildren. The happy faces telling of the triumphs and dreams of young married people.
And then I begin to worry. Have I taught you enough? Have I planted the seeds of happiness and worth deeply enough in your mind that they will bear fruit and produce a beautiful person who will be a joy to him or herself and your future family? Have I given you the faith it will take to carry you through the hard times when life doesn’t seem worth living or when confusion threatens to overwhelm your best intentions? I wonder if I’ve held you enough as a baby and I wish there were some way to hold you now and give you some of my strength. I wish I could have had a little more patience, a little more wisdom, a little more time to be a mother.
And I try to compensate for some of my failings by last minute ‘touchups’. As though by calling attention to some little faults I can smooth off the rough edges and present the ‘finished masterpiece’ in all its beauty. Yet, even as I nag, I know that will not solve any long-range problems. My only defense is that of love and a concern for your happiness.
Your happiness. Such an illusive quality. And so misused and misinformed. What is happiness anyway? Is it instant gratification of our every whim? Is it a state of glorious euphoria? Is it wealth? Success? Partly perhaps, but real happiness is a harmony of life. Just as an out-of-tune musical instrument creates a discordant sound; so does a life that is out of harmony with itself and its Creator. Happiness is the by-product of a life lived in integrity and service. It is satisfaction with a job well done, an unexpected joy, a recognition of blessings.
This is what we wish for you, my child. A life lived so well that disappointment and even tragedy cannot overcome it. A life of love and laughter and community. Go in joy.
About mindsinger
