Glimpses Of A Mother's Heart
Category: Love
Again, it is Monday and I'm amazed by how swift and uneventful the previous week came by. This should be a good thing because uneventful doesn't mean unproductive, rather that there's nothing unsettling to report, which, reeling from a few weeks before when there was death in the family, is quite a welcome thing. Disaster strikes without warning whenever it pleases, and you much rather that it doesn't make the rounds in your own backyard every other day.
Yesterday being mellow, we did our typical Sunday -- morning worship, lingering lunch, and chilling out on the rest of the overcast day. In the afternoon, my mother-in-law happened to be in the cemetery reminiscing on her recently departed son, just as my husband and I were having the same idea, so we went.
Nothing describes the pain of a mother grieving over the loss of a child. I've seen that with my own mom, when my sister passed some years ago, and I'm seeing it now on my husband's mother, this woman I once so despised, but now have come to understand and feel so much compassion for. Unfathomable grief was eloquently painted on her posture, as she said that it is going to be difficult getting over this one. This I believe, coming from a person who has weathered more than her fair share.
To whom much is given, much is required.
I think about my own travails as a mother, with the recent worry being of last week, when I waited up for a daughter who overextended her given curfew, and came in stealthily (or so she thought) at 4:30 in the morning. As it is customary, she would turn off the lamplight by the door that waits up for her, the moment she gets in. She may never know the relief that replaces the restlessness in her mother's heart, whenever she comes in through that door, and turns off the light, but someday she'll know about it, when she becomes a mother herself, and the cycle is repeated, when she'll be on the other side of the fence. As I am now.
I think about mothers -- my own, my mother-in-law, myself. I think about this life. What love. It is all that drives us to go on living and coping and learning, that makes a memorial out of the tears and the pain, that makes the smiles and the laughter more loudly resonate. And I am thankful to be given the opportunity, even when not all days are sunny, even when disaster strikes whenever it pleases. I am just grateful to be given this chance as a mother, just as my mother was and is to me, and enlightened to be getting this glimpse out of my mother-in-law's heart, the part that took quite long for me to see. In the end we are all the same, being and doing and making mistakes, with nothing more than our love that drives us. And again, I have learned.
Again, it is Monday and I'm amazed by how swift and uneventful the previous week came by. This should be a good thing because uneventful doesn't mean unproductive, rather that there's nothing unsettling to report, which, reeling from a few weeks before when there was death in the family, is quite a welcome thing. Disaster strikes without warning whenever it pleases, and you much rather that it doesn't make the rounds in your own backyard every other day.
Yesterday being mellow, we did our typical Sunday -- morning worship, lingering lunch, and chilling out on the rest of the overcast day. In the afternoon, my mother-in-law happened to be in the cemetery reminiscing on her recently departed son, just as my husband and I were having the same idea, so we went.
Nothing describes the pain of a mother grieving over the loss of a child. I've seen that with my own mom, when my sister passed some years ago, and I'm seeing it now on my husband's mother, this woman I once so despised, but now have come to understand and feel so much compassion for. Unfathomable grief was eloquently painted on her posture, as she said that it is going to be difficult getting over this one. This I believe, coming from a person who has weathered more than her fair share.
To whom much is given, much is required.
I think about my own travails as a mother, with the recent worry being of last week, when I waited up for a daughter who overextended her given curfew, and came in stealthily (or so she thought) at 4:30 in the morning. As it is customary, she would turn off the lamplight by the door that waits up for her, the moment she gets in. She may never know the relief that replaces the restlessness in her mother's heart, whenever she comes in through that door, and turns off the light, but someday she'll know about it, when she becomes a mother herself, and the cycle is repeated, when she'll be on the other side of the fence. As I am now.
I think about mothers -- my own, my mother-in-law, myself. I think about this life. What love. It is all that drives us to go on living and coping and learning, that makes a memorial out of the tears and the pain, that makes the smiles and the laughter more loudly resonate. And I am thankful to be given the opportunity, even when not all days are sunny, even when disaster strikes whenever it pleases. I am just grateful to be given this chance as a mother, just as my mother was and is to me, and enlightened to be getting this glimpse out of my mother-in-law's heart, the part that took quite long for me to see. In the end we are all the same, being and doing and making mistakes, with nothing more than our love that drives us. And again, I have learned.
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