It was not an easy path for her to become my mother. Most women have a nine month pregnancy, and viola, they are a mother. But my mother took a much harder journey, one which built strength and character, along with the blows life dealt her. Because she lost three babies along the way, and I came as the rainbow after the storms.
It can be a lot of pressure to be a rainbow. My mother didn't put the pressure on me, I hasten to add. She was always happy with me just as I was. The differences between us faded into nothingness, in her view, while the things that pulled us together were what really mattered. But it was sometimes difficult for me, because I felt like I had to make up for those who were lost before me.
And I realized early on that I was not up to the job. I can be quite colorful at times, but I don't glow. I am not the perfect child, and I wasn't always easy to raise, especially when she became a single mother at 44, the result of my dad's untimely passing. Although I have much in common with my family, I am artsy and creative and good with my hands and enjoy animals, I am also quite different in some ways. And sometimes those differences were quite marked, especially in the teen years, when you are angsty about everything that sets you apart.
I was looking at a photo yesterday of my mom, my brother and me from my mom's 90th birthday a couple of years ago, and I was struck by how much my brother resembled my mom, and how much I did not. They have that Scandanavian look about them, soft features, gentle expressions, blue eyes sparkling at the camera. I am altogether different, an incongruous piece of the family puzzle. It's surprising to me whenever people guess we are related, because you sure wouldn't know it by looking!
But God doesn't make mistakes. My mother always said that God knew she couldn't get me any other way, so he brought me to them through an alternative route. It made me feel wanted and loved and cherished, and grounded me in the understanding that I was a part of them, just like any other child. I was never on the outside looking in, I was part of the family party.
That is part of what makes my mother so perfect for me. She took me in, she loves me as I am, she did her best to curb the rough edges, and she uplifts me constantly, even when she doesn't understand my thinking. She calls on me as she needs me, but she taught me to be independent and self-sufficient, and continues to show me the way even now, at age 92. She is my role model for life, and I am so lucky that she was the one who picked me for her very own.
Birthdays are a time for reflection, whether your own, or someone close to you. As I think about my mother's birthday, I know the world is a better place because she has been in it. She didn't set out to change the world; that was never her thing. It is that she changed our world, and that was enough for her.
She is the embodiment of Matthew 25:35-36 [with a couple of my own revisions - I take creative liberties whether I should or not!]:
For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in [foster care] and you came to [claim] me.Happy birthday to the perfect mom for me. It has been a life sentence for her, but I am blessed to be called her daughter.
