I’ve been thinking for awhile about what a minimalist life looks like to God. Was Jesus a minimalist? Does He want us to live simpler lives? While there may be truth in this, if finally dawned on me that God cares more about our aching hearts than He does our organized closets. So it only seems fitting, with Mother’s day soon approaching, that I share a recent lesson I learned. About the simplest of all biblical truths. Love.
We hear so often about the importance of forgiving others. I try to do that. Sometimes it’s easy. Other times, not so much. But we really need to learn to forgive ourselves. After all, can we authentically forgive others if we can’t even forgive ourselves? Can we teach someone to swim, if we ourselves are afraid of the water?
For me, parenting is the water I fear most. It is a deep and mysterious pool of liquid unknown. Sometimes I think I know the strokes; other times I flail and fear that I am drowning. My babies are grown now. As all mothers do, I somehow managed to rear them to adulthood with minimal skinned knees and teenage heartbreaks. But I nonetheless hold myself accountable for every decision they make, and every mistake they encounter. Did I hug them enough? I think so. Did I teach them enough? I hope so. Could I have been a better parent? I’m convinced I could. But this self condemnation is counter-productive. It hurts me.
Today I read in Philippians, “…one thing I do, forgetting those things which are behind and reaching forward to those things which are ahead.” Simple enough, huh? At least on days when my children land a great job or receive an awesome grade. Not so simple when they choose the wrong friends. Or make a wrong decision. On days they fail, I pronounce myself guilty for not having done better.
Nonetheless, I silently judge myself for every skinned knee.
We all know parenting does not come with an instruction manual. However, many of us are fortunate to be surrounded with supportive family members to help us in this journey. Especially our own mothers. Often this is the person who teaches us to change that first diaper, to administer that first bath. And this is the voice on the other end of the phone telling us what to do when our child’s temperature reaches 100, when his grades begin to drop. This is the woman who held our own hands when crossing the street, and this is also the woman who tells us how firmly to grip our own babies’ hands… and when to let them go.
My father died when my children were in preschool. One year later, my mother remarried a very controlling man. That’s a story for another day, but the synopsis is this. He dictated when we could phone her, when we could visit, and he never allowed us time alone with her. Even more difficult to understand was the fact the she acquiesced. Forgiving her was easy, perhaps because she is now a victim of Alzheimer’s and can’t even remember shutting those doors to her children. Forgiving him is important, and I’m working on it. But forgiving myself is essential.
Just the other day, I realized for the first time that the reason for my mother’s actions is not the issue. Her absence is what matters. Without her on the other end of the phone, I was left to tread water by myself. Another revelation, just as suddenly and just as clearly, was that I did just fine.
Love lesson #1 – Don’t forget to forgive yourself. May 10 will be a celebration in my home this year. I’ll be wishing myself a happy Mother’s Day.
