Gratitude and Grace

Yesterday was Mother's Day.  That holiday has the potential to be an emotional firestorm for many people for many reasons.  For some of my friends, it was a difficult day because their moms are no longer with us.  For other women, it's hard because they want to be moms but aren't.  Some moms have lost their children, and that makes Mother's Day difficult.  Then there are some who still have mothers, but it really isn't the "honor thy mother" kind of relationship.

That is the thing about Mother's Day for me--there is very little honor between me and my mother. It is not a day we celebrate together, or even acknowledge for each other.  However, I've decided that giving her that kind of power over my day is not hers to have.  This day is not about her shortcomings, or really, even my own.  Instead, this day is for me to celebrate my children, my joy, my love, and my relationship with my children.  This day is not about the kind of mother and grandmother she has chosen not to be, but about the kind of mom I choose to be.

I did a lot of reflecting yesterday.  It is because of the kind of mother mine is that I am the kind of mom I am.  I could not choose how I was raised, but I can choose how my own children are raised.  My own children can be--are--raised with the kind of love, understanding, acceptance, and encouragement I still don't receive.  They are not raised with ridicule, selfishness, condemnation and conditional 'love.'  It is because of how I was raised that I am raising my own children the way I am.  In a way, I do have my mother to thank for that.  I am the mom I am because of the mother she was, in spite of the mother she is.

That brings me to gratitude.  Such a word!  Being thankful, living a life of praise, just living gratefully.  I don't always nail this one.  But, this is how I want to raise my children, with them knowing I am grateful for them, that I am grateful for the chance to raise them and call them my own.  I have been granted such a gift, and I don't want to take them for granted.  In the same way, I do need to be grateful to my mother--for teaching me the wrong ways and right ways to raise my boys, for giving me life, and she did provide me with physical necessities.  Again, I am who I am because of how I was raised.  I am one of those who has turned out in spite of my parents, not necessarily because of my parents.

And, there's grace.  That kind of forgiveness we can't earn, or even deserve, that forgiveness we don't ask for, that gift we are given from our Father.  Even when we don't deserve it, even when we can't admit our wrongs, our faults, our misbehaviors--He still grants us grace.  This is what I need to do for my mother.  I don't believe she will ever see the error of her ways, and I don't believe she will change.  She is the one who has always railed that she "did the best she could with what she had"--and she wasn't talking about her parenting skills, she was talking about me and my sister.  Her behaviors continue, and she continues to be unhealthy for my children, and myself.  As this continues, she will continue to not be allowed to be a part of our lives.  However, I need to grant her that same grace God has given me.  She hasn't earned it, she doesn't necessarily deserve it, and she won't ask for it because she doesn't think she needs it, but I have to give it to her.  A gift.

It's quite possible I am making this sound so much easier for me than it is.  Believe me when I say, it's not easy.  This is the last thing I want to do.  Sounds petty, but it's true.  Our pastor's wife has been reminding us that "love covers a multitude of sins"--whether it is the parent's love for the child who sinned, or the child's love for the sinning parent, love covers it.  I don't believe I'm quite there.  It has been a while since I have felt 'love' for either of my parents.  I do have a ways to go, especially before I can verbally tell either of my parents that I forgive them (I can just see how that would go over....); in my head is much easier, not so easy in my heart, nearly impossible face to face.

I know too though, this is where raising my own children comes in--I have to be the example to them. They are watching me.  I must give my mother that gratitude and grace, if not for us, then for them.

I Don't Feel "Cat Safe"

When we knew Gretta was coming to the end of her life, I started researching other dog breeds, various rescues, and adoption agencies.  One of the things we learned while researching Greyhound rescue was how they determine if the former racing dogs are "cat safe."  A cat is placed inside a carrier in the same room at the dog, and it goes from there, introducing the cat to the dog in stages.

This is how I feel right now.  I feel like a Greyhound in the middle of a room full of cats, i.e., pregnant women.  Suddenly they're everywhere.  Completely unavoidable.  Standing in an elevator surrounded by several women on their way to their OB appointments last week, I started to sweat and shake.  I couldn't look at them, I couldn't look up from the floor.  On the way back down, I caught myself actually trying to close the elevator before another mom-to-be could catch it.  What is wrong with me?  Noah picked up on something in my reaction, and grabbed my hand, leaning into me the way he does when he needs reassurance.  I pulled Avery closer, still not able to look at the other woman, unable to look up from the floor, wanting to just dissolve into a puddle and cry.

Let me be clear, I am not in danger of hurting anyone.  That is not the point I'm trying to make here.  My rage and anger are not directed at the ones who will be good parents--I will admit to some jealousy, because otherwise I would be lying.  My point is that I just don't know how to act.  I know I need to be happy for them, I need to be joyful.  What I really want to say when I congratulate them is, "If I ever find out you've hurt that child, taken him/her for granted, or mistreated that child in any way, shape or form--I'll rip your uterus out and feed it to you."

Seriously.  I'm angry.  I need to stop reading the news.  I'm frustrated that these people who kill their children, exploit them, mistreat them--these people who make the news for their crimes--I'm angry that we were able to have children in the first place.  And what angers me even more in my situation is that they will eventually get out of prison (if they even make it there in the first place), or the psychiatric hospital,  or wherever, and they will go on to have more children. And they will hurt those children too.  People are getting away with too much, and they don't deserve these children to begin with.  Why does this happen?  I'm angry with them, and I'm angry with my body.  I'm angry with the women who take their fertility for granted, and the ones who waste the gifts they are given.

My kids are my center.  I love them.  No, I'm not perfect, and yes, I have things I will have to answer for, but overall, I feel like I've lived my life doing everything the "right" way.  I just want to know--WHY?  When I posed this question to my friend, along with admitting she doesn't know (not that I expect her to, I just need someone to hear me, and she does), she said, "Amy, because you're strong.  He knows you can handle this."  Well, I'm tired of being the strong one. I'm tired of having to handle 'it.'  I really am.  And what does that say about the people who mistreat their children--yes, they aren't strong, it's why they abuse their children in the first place--but why isn't more expected of them?  If this is strong, I don't want any part of it anymore.  On the other hand, I don't want to be the weakling who abuses her children and takes them for granted.  I just want to be the nesting, happy expectant mother.

And I know... God does not work that way.  Chances are good I won't get an answer, at least not in this life.  God does not work by lives lived well and good deeds.  Rewards don't happen the way we want them to, or the way we tend to think of them.  I can scream and cry "IT'S NOT FAIR" until I'm blue in the face, and while I'm right, there's nothing about life that starts out as fair.  Life isn't meant to be fair.

I will never understand why some people are allowed to have children, only to bring harm to them, while others who would make outstanding parents are never able to live that dream to fruition.  I do know that I have two things I can do with this anger--deal with it before it eats me alive and ruins the good in my life, or allow it to do just that.  I do know that I am blessed to have the two children I do have.  That's more than some can even hope for.