Mothers Day is no high holy day, really. It's an American cultural celebration that lauds hallmark and materialism among its highest honorees.
But I've been thinking a lot about it lately as part of my narrative theology. It's hard not to, growing up in the church, watching my great grandfather, grandfather, and father preach numerous times. While the role of Pastor is rather well defined, Pastor's wife can be many things and, well, the picture of what that looked like seemed very different for my great grandmother, my grandma, and my mother. Granted, when my great grandmother became a Pastor's wife in the 1930s, life for women in general was different than when my grandmother took the role in the 1950s or when my mother became a Pastor's wife in the 1980s, but I also tend to think that their particular gifts played a role in this.
What sticks with me, honestly, is in the ways my great grandmother and grandma kept their homes (so clean!) and lives (so orderly)...but my mom? Her care of others and willingness to let others see some of the messy beneath the surface stands out. What do I mean? She kept my mothers day present from Kindergarten or first grade--I'd made this gold spray painted macaroni frame around a laminated picture I'd drawn of how I saw her--she was cooking on the stove, her hair in ringlets, smile on her face, and what I SAID (and still believe) was steam rising from it--illustrated with black crayon. She laughed and remarked how much she loved that I'd drawn her burning food. I don't think poorly of her cooking--really--and was embarassed that she thought I thought that little of her, but she always seemed to find it adorable.
I watched her love others, especially on roads she'd walked herself. Her best friend in Toronto was someone who was losing a 16-year-old daughter to cancer. Mom sat with her and watched as she put her daughter's hair in ever-smaller rubber bands, her hair falling out from treatments. She grieved with her friend as the daughter lost the battle with cancer, listened as grief came and went with memories, my mom reliving some of her own as we'd lost my sister at birth a few years earlier. She understood the sting of cancer as she lost her mother to cancer (my grandma), and comforted numerous others with the loss of mothers and children.
She has told me in recent years of some questioning why the parsonage wasn't cleaner, or my sister and I quieter...and I appreciate her defending us as questioning in a healthy way, seeking to understand and not just practice our faith. I also appreciate that she spent her time investing in people--in her daughters and in the congregation and friends--even if that meant the house wasn't quite up to others' expectations.
Theology and faith, for me, though, is what extends well beyond the walls of the church--who are we when we're not just checking off expectations? I remember when my mom explained to me that she'd majored in Psychology and Religion, hoping to go into being a hospital chaplain, and I thought, 'but then why the HECK did you stay home with us? And why did you work in audio-visual at the college? and then become a Junior High librarian? Those have NOTHING to do with each other." But they do. At least for my mom, they are all about the care and comfort of others. The college students she worked with in audio-visual still keep in contact with her 20 years later. Some of the kids who seemed to think that no one cared about them in junior high? My mom kept in touch, wrote letters, encouraged them, and would tell me stories of what they'd gone on to do. She is always proud of "her kids"--my sister and I, the AV college students, the junior highers from concessions and yearbook that she oversaw--and does much to encourage, pray for, and share life with so many.
Beyond encouraging us to ask questions, be willing to share our messy-ness in caring for others, and honest in our own struggles, I learned from her the love of reading--not just YA (which I wouldn't have seen how great the last 15 or so years of new young adult literature has been without her) but also the bible, and bible quizzing in particular. Bible quizzing is how she was first introduced to Greenville College, coming from Indianapolis for a meet, and when we moved to Greenville, she introduced me to the idea. I wasn't a great quizzer, I'll admit, but I did learn the Gospel of John, Hebrews, 1 & 2 Peter and Romans fairly well from the years I quizzed and it sticks with you.
This isn't to say that I didn't learn a lot of theology from my father. He's the one who introduced me to many great writers and thinkers of faith. However, when I think about what I know of my own mom, trying to make mothers day as an adult about celebrating the amazing person I happen to have as a mom and not just celebrating her mother-ness, I'm a bit shocked to realize how much of what I've learned from her is part of my theology--my own messy hospitality and love, fangirl love of literature and it's ability to intertwine with faith and theology in my mind, and most of all my belief that story is important to life, and life and story are keys to faith and living it.
Thank you, mom, for teaching me these things and for walking with me through some pretty dark and depressing days the last five years but also teaching me that these tough moments? The messy, ugly parts of our journeys can help us help others, love others and serve others out of our our brokenness and learning.
