Let me start by saying that I have been amazingly blessed in my life to have known many amazing mothers. I have even had friend or two who I have added the word ‘mom’ to their names in my phone because they are so awesome. Julie Mom and Missy Mom are the two main people who come to mind. I have friend’s moms who have loved me and encouraged me. I’ve been blessed to be able to watch my sisters and friends become amazing, funny, creative mothers. And after having said that, y’all can’t hold a candle to my mother. Sorry. But it’s just the truth.
I can’t even think of where to start. I’d say start at the beginning, but I don’t remember the beginning but I’m sure she was lovely.
Aha! I know where to start, and I can even point out as to why this is a good starting point! When I was diagnosed with Dyslexia, there was little doubts in my parents mind that I was NOT going to be ok at the school my siblings had gone to. School was torture. I was the most miserable f and 6 year old you had ever met. So, my parents applied to The Jemicy School, and by the grace of God, I was accepted. Guess what? I was still miserable. (trust me, I’m getting to the point here, I swear…) I wanted to be with all my friends. I wanted to go on the bus, and not have to make the long drive to Owings Mills everyday. I’m pretty sure that for the first few years I did the ‘stand in my bedroom door and SCREAM at my mom because I didn’t want to go to school’ thing. Mind you, this horrid, really scary change ended up being one of the best things that ever happened to me. Jemicy was just about tailor made to teach me, a little girl who had pretty much given up on academia all together at the age of 6, how to read.
I can hear you saying it now “Great story, Claire. Jemicy sure was a great place for you…but what does that have to do with anything??” To which i reply, “Calm yourself! I’m getting there! Sheesh!”
Let’s fast forward about 22 years. I’m sitting here, stressed out and feeling a little bit like that bewildered 6 year old. But today, I got an email from my mom reminding me that we used to pray the Rosary everyday on the way to school. She wasn’t intentionally trying to make the point that one of the hardest things in my life turned out to be the best thing ever, and that praying and being faithful got us through (well, the faith part, yes…), but that’s what she reminded me. It’s hard moving again. But, it’s worth it. It was hard leaving every friend I ever had, even if I was only 6. But had I not gone to Jemicy, I haven’t a CLUE what my life would look like right now. So, yes. I’m anxious and stressed, but ultimately, the hardest things are often the best.
My mom has inspired, encouraged, spoken the truth, admonished me in love and tolerated my insanity for longer that I can recall. She has been a example of love and patience to level that boggle my mind.
I know many amazing mothers. Loving, holy, awesome. But only one of them was given to me by God, at my very beginning. And He surely knew what he was doing.