Sixty Lessons I Learned From My Mother (Part 1)

In a little bit over six weeks it will be my mom's birthday. She would have turned sixty this year. I imagine that we would have been planning a big bash - a party with a lot of her friends and family, perhaps a trip to Panajachel, her favorite vacation spot. I like to think I would have baked the cake, gone shopping for a new outfit with her, and that her friends would have taken over the preparations for her party.

Alas, she is no longer with us, but that is not enough reason to not take a moment to remember her legacy and celebrate the life of a woman who marked so many of us. So, I have come up with a list of sixty lessons I learned from her and will be posting weekly. I am sure there are plenty more, but here are some of her pearls of wisdom, in no particular order.

To Laugh Out Loud. Without reservations. Even if you look like a crazy person. Her belly laugh could fill the room, and it encouraged me to enjoy life to that extreme. To the point of tears rolling down your face, and your belly aching, and your cheeks being sore from so much delight.

To Sing With All You've Got. My mom loved singing, and she had a beautiful voice. I remember being a preschooler, sitting in our living room, listening to her practice a special song for church. Later in life, I loved accompanying her on the piano. It was not only that she had a great voice, but it was also that she moved you. You couldn't help but want to belt out singing when you were standing next to her, regardless of how good (or not) you sounded.

To never underestimate the power of a nap. She usually got up at 4 or 5 a.m. and would take power naps whenever possible. In the car. The couch. The desk. Sometimes even when you were telling her a story.

How to read. She taught me not only how to read but the love of reading, and cultivated in me the insatiable thirst for books. In doing this, she opened a world of imagination and growth that I continue to enjoy to this day.

How to write. Not only the skill itself, or that she took pains in helping me develop good handwriting, but she also showed me that grammar and spelling do matter. Beyond that, she also helped me develop the ability to express myself through writing. 

To Pamper Your Kids. Throughout my life, I heard her say time after time that nobody else in the world was going to care about pampering her kids, so she wouldn't hold back. Beside my husband, I have experienced first hand the truth of this statement, and now that she is gone, I am so glad she pampered me like she did. I am glad that she didn't think twice all the times she spoiled me rotten - dropping in at my apartment unannounced when I had told her I had a cold to just make me some soup, and then buying me something she knew I wanted, or just playing with my hair like she knew I loved... I am glad that she knew exactly what I liked, and that she let me know in so many ways that she was thinking of me, because in loving me, she taught me how to love. As a mom now, I highly value this, and the only thing that every once in a while makes me sad, is to think how much she would have enjoyed pampering my boys (and how much they would have enjoyed her doing so!).

To Speak My Mind. Clearly. With aplomb. In truth, with love, in honesty. Even when it is not convenient for me. Even when it might get me in trouble. Even when what I will say may not be welcome. Even when it means confessing I have messed up pretty badly.

To Be Hospitable. One of my favorite things growing up was all the people we had over for dinners and staying at our house. I loved the stories, conversations, and learning about different cultures through all the folks that came by. To this date, this is one of the things I truly enjoy. (And as we used to joke growing up, it's always a fun excuse to have dessert).

That Nobody Can Steal Your Memories. Granted, you can hit your head pretty badly and some of it could be gone, but she taught me the value of memorization - Bible verses, poems, songs - she always said that this was something that couldn't be taken. She would say "nothing can guarantee you that one day you won't be without books around you, or that you will be free always, so learn it, store it in your heart, in your mind." In her last months, when she was too weak to even sit up, let alone read, I would find her sometimes mumbling verses or poems that she had memorized throughout her life. And she was right... that was the piece of her body that went unscathed. 

That Women and Men Are Equal. Growing up I didn't fully understand how much she shaped my life by allowing me to live this truth, to grow up knowing this - even to the point that when I went out into "the real world," I was shocked to find out that this was not a truth that was universally acknowledged.  This was particularly key given that I was the only girl with three brothers in the house. I admit that there were times I felt embarrassed when my mother would serve her 20 minute speech of why-my-daughter-is-not-treated-different-than-the-boys. I thought "what's the big deal?" "Why are we making such a fuss about the way we live our lives?" "Can't we just live and let live?" I felt like the poster child for a campaign I hadn't chosen. When I was older, I would feel frustrated, even angry, when I would see the cost of her struggle to live this truth. "Why doesn't she give up this one time?" "It's not like it makes a difference to her." But, doña Elsa, now I get it. I get it now, after ten years of mentoring teenage girls. I get it now that I am an adult woman. I see the damage and the colossal collapse we bring to our societies when we allow the lie that men are superior to women to go unchallenged. And I am now speaking truth - and serving that 20 minute speech to whoever needs to hear it

.