My mom confessed “I dreaded
Mother’s Day”
A friend asked me what it was like having a mother who was so
supportive. I have thought about that question a lot since
then, and here is my answer: My mom filled my tank with a
reserve of strength that I now draw from whenever life gets
hard, no matter how old I get. I know I am fortunate to still
have my mom around after some recent scares, so I appreciate
when she attends my speeches and events, as if I am still a
kid and these are my soccer games. Her pride is always
evident.
My mom and I walking and
talking together
Last year when I told her I was thinking of leaving my day job
to write books and start a business, she held back from giving
advice at first. Then she decided to share her true feelings,
“I suspect that if you do not try, you will always regret it.”
My mom knew firsthand the risks of being an entrepreneur,
working alongside my dad in a family business that brought
adventure, but never security. She juggled business with seven
children, baked whole wheat bread, grew sprouts in the
windowsill and canned an enormous garden each summer. She was
exhausted and never felt they could get ahead, but I thought
she was pretty great. My parents had a 55-year love affair and
my mom was a beautiful, classy woman. Still is.
So imagine how I squinted when she confessed to me a few years
ago that she dreaded Mother’s Day. I was taken aback and asked
why. “Because I felt inadequate hearing about the perfect
women around me. I couldn’t sew or craft. My house was a
wreck. I lost my cool. I worked outside the home when that was
a no-no. Your dad loved me, but I felt fat. I would never
measure up.”
Looking back, I felt she had accomplished much in both family
and professional life, so her insecurities touched me. When I
shared these thoughts on Facebook with her permission, one of
my girlfriends said, “I thought I was the only one!” Another
one added, “On Mother’s Day I stress about how the kids look
and act because it feels like you are being scrutinized. If
Mother’s Day were not on Sunday you could sleep in and
wouldn’t have to do so many heads of hair, iron
dresses/shirts, find shoes, and pack the bottomless church
bag. I feel like I am competing with perfection.”
Every
Essential
Element, a memoir
by
Rhonda
Lauritzen
My mom may never have opened up on this subject if the two of
us had not embarked on writing her life story (Every Essential
Element) together, and I guess that was the most unexpected
gift from the process. I got to know her on an entirely new
and deeper level. I got to see her as the heroine in an epic
love story, as well understanding her struggles. Now she is
not only “the mom” in my life, but she is a complex
protagonist who faces her weaknesses and challenges with
faith. All of this makes her so much more interesting and
relatable.
When publication time came, she opened up about something
else, “I feel kind of shy now.” I reassured her that people
would love hearing about her life, but she elaborated, “It’s
not that. I don’t want anyone to think we were perfect, or
that we thought we were. We always made a lot of mistakes.”
She would hate for people to compare themselves as she had
done through so many Mother’s Day programs. I thought that was
very mindful.
Her confession made me think about my own life: How much
energy do I spend comparing my weaknesses to someone else’s
strengths? I diminish my own talents because they are
different than what I admire in others.
Now in her 80s, my mom tells me to let my worries go, to enjoy
today, and to run with my talents. She is proud of me, and she
wants me to own my strengths instead of holding myself back.
Why is all of this so hard to do?
It occurs to me now that she and
I, we want the exact same gifts
for each other. I want to tell
her this, “Mom, your best was
enough. Your sacrifices gave me
opportunities.
Your
belief
instilled in me a sense of inner
worth that I draw upon when life
gets hard.” I want to repay her
somehow, and make all her dreams
come true this Mother’s Day. And
then it hits me: her dreams are
for her children. That is why she would say the exact same
words to me.
She wants me to believe that I am enough. Now I am a mother, I
understand this. I see that the most meaningful gift I could
ever give my mom would be to absorb the lessons she has
learned in 83 years of living. It would be to honor her belief
in me. I get it now, because this is what I want for my own
daughter.
So on this Mother’s Day, I want to give her three commitments.
Mom, these are dedicated to you:
I will catch myself when I start comparing my own
weaknesses to other people’s talents. Instead, I will do
my best to embrace the strengths that you see in me.
I will take your advice live more joyfully and to
appreciate these moments. Someday if I live to be your
age this busy time will be a memory, so pay attention to
making good ones.
I will live the kind of empowered life you’ve wanted for
your daughter, acting in faith as you have shown me to
do.
And to women everywhere I wish to say this: none of us are
perfect so let’s ease up on ourselves this Mother’s Day, okay?
We are enough.
Rhonda
Lauritzen
Rhonda Lauritzen is the founder and an author at
Evalogue.Life, where we tell personal and family stories that
inspire. (Let us help you tell yours!) Rhonda lives to hear
and tell about people’s lives, especially the uncanny moments.
She and her husband Milan restored an old Victorian in Ogden
and work together in Evalogue.Life, weaving family and
business together.