Motherly Advice

Suffice it to say, I've received it (the motherly advice) and I've also dished it out over the last few days. The good news is that on both accounts, the advice was thoughtful, well intentioned and well received. It isn't often that we allow ourselves to tap into the wealth of generational intelligence by opening our hearts (and ears) to the nuggets of wisdom that come from having lived awhile. I'm reminded that I can still learn from my 91 year old mother and in turn impart solid advice to my 20 year old daughter, especially when she specifically asks for my input. In this time when emotions run deep, I'm grateful that not only have I "mothered" my daughter but I have also been "mothered", significantly and sweetly.

Earlier this week in an emotionally raw and vulnerable state I shared the heaviness of my heart with Mom. This is unusual but the time seemed right; she could sense something was amiss. No matter her age or condition, she still knows how to impart her wisdom lovingly. She also knows how to drive home an important point about family dynamics and the hasty decisions we tend to make in moments of anger. She made her points and I listened. She was right.

Mom went on to share that she's been reading the Bible lately, usually at night when she has trouble falling asleep. The Old Testament Psalms are her favorite and in particular the 91st Psalm (hmmm, that's also her age). While she offered up her wise advice she quoted from this Psalm and it brought me back to the days when I was my daughter's age, readying for the journey back to school in the states; "leave taking" as we called it. Sad days these were, fraught with some of the same anxieties that color the present days as Laura readies for her trip abroad. Mom used to reference the 91st Psalm way back then; she'd often read it to me the night before I'd leave home as I was packing the last of my belongings into the suitcase. She quoted bits of the psalm this time around; the words never fail to lend comfort to my tangled thoughts. When I got home, I found my dusty, rarely opened Bible, opened to the Psalms and read the text of the 91st slowly.

Thank you Mom for setting me straight on a troublesome issue. You're right on and I'm fortunate that you are still connected enough with my pain to sit me down, ask for my attention, and tell me what I need to hear. And, thank you Laura for asking for my input and really listening to the wisdom I've offered. We are stronger for these connections. Mothering is an art form and when done well, a great blessing and privilege.