A Mother's Treasure

I have often laughed at my Mom’s tendency to save everything. 

Boxes upon boxes contain a thousand little memories; dozens of unsightly drawings only a mother could deem masterpieces; pre-digital stacks of photos, unorganized and unedited; handmade Mother’s Day gifts that are otherwise completely useless knick-knacks.  Much to my dad’s chagrin, these and many more items she is unable to depart with overflow my parent’s garage, closets, and cabinets.

She showed me one of these items she had recently resurrected, the other day: a poem gifted to her from her own mother…

To My Grown-Up Daughter

My hands were busy through the day,

I didn’t have much time to play

The little games you asked me to

I didn’t have much time for you.

I’d wash your clothes

I’d sew and cook,

And when one asked me,

“Teach me how,”

I’d say, “Later, daughter,

I’m busy now.”

I’d tuck you in all safe at night,

Then tiptoe softly to the door

I wish I’d stayed a minute more.

For life is short,

The years rush past,

And little girls-

They grow up fast.

No longer are they at your side,

Their precious secrets to confide.

The picture books are put away,

There are no longer games to play-

No goodnight kisses,

No prayers to hear.

That all belongs to yesteryear.

My hands, once busy,

Now are stilled.

The days are long,

Sometimes hard to fill.

I wish I could go back and do,

The little things you asked me to

Author Unknown

Growing up, I remember this poem hanging on my parent’s bedroom wall.  I didn’t think much of it then.  But when I read it the other day, I found myself fighting back tears.  All of a sudden, my mom’s tendency to tuck away all these trinkets no longer seemed silly. 

Don’t worry, Sam. My dad’s simplifying genes still win out to my mom’s sentimental genes when it comes to storage.  

But I get it now.  Just like two-hundred old ladies have warned me in passing at the grocery store:  You’ll blink, and they’ll be grown.  If you’re lucky, they will still be a presence in your life- more than a long-distance phone call or Thanksgiving visit.  But regardless, all those sweet little moments will be gone.  

The moment when your toddler insists on dressing themselves, in a completely contrasting polka-dot top and purple-print pants.  The moment when  your two-month old wants nothing more than to sit on your lap and fall asleep.  The moment when your child repeats twenty-six times, “Mommy happy? Mommy happy? Mommy happy?” until you respond enthusiastically enough, “Yes, Mommy’s very happy.”

And so I understand now. My mom couldn't pack away all those moments, so she did the next best thing- she saved the shadows of those moments, the evidence that they once existed.  She tucked away the reminders of smiles once wrought, knowing that each time these reminders were dusted off, they would bring about smiles yet again.

I too desire to bottle up all those insanely precious moments.  I want to freeze time.  Live these moments over and over again.

A few days ago, I came across yet another reminder to enjoy these moments.  This one came from Kate Merrick, a broken-hearted Mommy who had said goodbye to her beautiful, cancer-stricken 8-year old mere days before writing these words (you can read more of their powerful, tragic, but Jesus-filled story here):

My final request to all who read this blog: love. Love your babies, your husbands, mothers, sisters. Love each day like it’s your last. All you mamas out there, you have been entrusted with the precious gift of a human life who depends on you. Enjoy your gift. Breathe in the scent of your child’s hair, breath. Let them cook with you and make a mess of the kitchen. Play hide and seek with them, build sand castles with them, take them on picnics, read to them!  Listen to them, value and respect them, never shame them.  Your words they will carry with them their whole life and you have the power to give them wings or stunt their growth. Motherhood can be tough but it’s worth it. It can be exhausting, boring, tedious, but never for long. You blink and they’re grown.

I don’t have the words for a conclusion right now.  I hope to have one in the coming days…

Rather, today I primarily feel the need to listen.  To listen to the sorrow of Mommies who would love to be in my shoes.  To listen to the cry of God, who would have me make the most of these days.  To listen to my children because right now, in this moment, they are offering me the precious gift of being their Mommy.