Dear Girlfriends, 

A few weeks ago my sleep-deprived daughter, sporting spit-up on her blouse, looked me straight in the eye and said, "No one told me it was going to be this hard." I just looked at her and blinked. The "no one" she was referring to was me. Uh-oh.

After she left I basked in my self-pride of making motherhood and selfless devotion look so easy. But then I became confused. Wait . . .how could she not know this is sometimes very hard? Had she not seen selfless devotion for these past 30 years?

Well, of course she had - but like most of us, she didn't know what she was looking at.

Our recognition of selfless devotion is like our relationship with the sun: it comes up every morning without our doing a single thing. We take it for granted, enjoying its light and relishing its warmth. But even though it's a constant in our life, we rarely really "see" it. Only the occasional spectacular sunrise or sunset gets our attention. And we certainly don't appreciate what's going on in the background. Few of us understand the way our solar system hangs together. No, we give little thought to what it takes for Mr. Sunshine to smile on us every day. It's the same with selfless devotion.

My friend BJ didn't know what it looked like, either; not because she took it for granted, but because she had never laid eyes on it. Ever.

When she was a baby, BJ's biological mom gave her to a woman who worked in a bar, who - when BJ was only 15 years old - left BJ alone to raise herself. At the age of 46, prior to a major surgery, BJ began looking for someone to hire to take care of her as she recuperated at home. But a precious friend, who had invited BJ into her family, volunteered her mom, Genny, for the job, insisting that this was the solution to BJ's convalescence needs. Little did BJ know that this would be a close encounter of the selfless kind.

One night, after BJ got up to go to the restroom, she returned to her bed - but the bed was not as she had left it. BJ held her breath; she was in awe. While BJ was up, Genny had quietly crept into her room to straighten her sheets and blankets . . . and Genny had fluffed her pillow. In all her life, BJ had never had anyone fluff her pillows. As BJ told me the story, I could just see this precious little woman padding across the floor to deliver selfless devotion under the cover of night. But unlike the rest of us who have had our pillows fluffed, BJ knew what she was looking at. It was like looking at the sun for the very first time.

I know that many of you, my girlfriends, are young mothers who are just learning the ropes - and I'm sure there are days when you're overwhelmed (as we all were). As you sacrifice your physical, material, and emotional needs for those of your child, I hope you will take time to think about and thank your own mom. As imperfect as she might have been, she also sacrificed for you - even if you didn't notice all that was going on in her solar system, behind her eyes . . . and in her heart. There were sacrifices I'm sure she made, even if you didn't know what you were seeing. And so it will be for your child.

Shauna will make mothering look easy; so much so, that Ava probably won't know it's selfless devotion that she's looking at, either. And one day, thirty years from now, Shauna can think of her own good answer when Ava says, "No one told me it was going to be this hard."
 

Fluffing pillows for the next generation,
Ellen, a.k.a. Sugar

Posted by Ellen on June 11, 2008 9:23 AM  |  Category: What Does It Look Like?

Dear Girlfriends,

"Don't use that tone with me, young lady." If there's a female child in your life, and she's talking, there's a good chance you've had the opportunity to use this line. If you haven't - well, clearly she has not yet entered puberty.

Respect. Most of us expect our children to respect us. But can they define it? Do our children know what it means because we've showed them, or because we've simply demanded it?

I define respect as an attitude of gratitude and the discipline of self-control. With the exception of a couple of hormonal outbursts when she was a pre-teen, our daughter Shauna has always been respectful. And now it's my turn to return the favor. You see, genuine respect is a two-way street, and the respect I want Ava to see is the attitude of gratitude I have toward her parents. I had a good role model for this one; I know what it looks like because my Mammaw showed me.

As I've shared with you in previous Truth Nuggets, my Mom struggled with substance abuse as the result of mental illness. As a child I idolized her but as I grew older, her issues became a source of embarrassment for me. By the age of 15, my respect-o-meter had hit an all-time low.

Taking my grievances to my grandmother, I ranted and raved. But not once, not once, in all my years of Mom-bashing would Mammaw join in. My beautiful gray-haired grandmother would quietly listen, and then remind me how much my mother loved me, as she gently turned the conversation to a more positive topic. Mammaw modeled for me that respect is not only something a mother hopes to receive from her child, but is something a mother also returns.

This topic cuts close to the bone for those of you who have been on the receiving end of negative comments made by a parent or an in-law. You know first-hand the pain this inflicts and how confusing it was for your child; how it totally undermines the philosophy of respect. Because you were hurt, you understand this intangible of genuine respect at a gut level, and most likely model it well for the children you influence.

Others, who have not lived through such an experience, might not fully grasp that every word out of their mouth has an impact on the child in their life. Snide comments, hurtful teasing, and unreasonable criticism can paint a picture for a child that their parent is undeserving of their respect. We so often forget that every word said and every tone used is either positive or negative. Nothing is neutral. Especially to a child and regardless of their age.

At the Sugar Pop (which is wherever Sugar and Pop live at the moment), we have begun to model genuine respect for Ava. As we feed her and rock her and play with her, we share with her the many charming characteristics of her Mommy and Daddy. Yes, she's only six months old, but she will learn this one cold: She's a blessed child to have these two awesome human beings as her parents. There will be no mom- or dad-bashing at our house, either.

Learning the ropes of parenting an adult child is not much different from parenting a newborn; it's all trial and error. We make it up as we go along, sometimes without thinking of the greater consequences of our actions. But today, I am thinking. And I'm thinking that what I say or don't say will have a lasting impact on Ava Lynn's understanding of genuine respect. And because I have something good to say, I'm going to take the time to say it.

Respectfully yours,
Ellen, a.k.a. Sugar

Posted by Ellen on June 25, 2008 3:11 PM  |  Category: What Does It Look Like?