I almost forgot that it’s Mothers’ Day weekend.  My children took me out for my mother’s day brunch a couple of weeks ago so in my mind the day of celebration was behind us.  Mama died almost two and a half years ago so Mothers’ Day generally brings mixed emotions.  I think about how much I miss her and how thankful I am that she was my mother.

The older I get the more I appreciate the complexity of my mother.  When I was younger, life seemed simple and so did the people in my life.  Mama was a teacher who loved being a home body as much as she loved spending time with her mother and sisters every Sunday afternoon.  Mama encouraged educational, personal, and social growth.  She worked hard to engrain in my mind the need to adhere to a high standard of etiquette.  Her focus on the prim and proper was reflected in her coordinated wardrobe items complete with matching handbags, jewelry, and shoes.  She always wore facial powder, lipstick, and perfume.  As a young child, I wanted to be just like her, but as I got older I realized my lack of commitment to the trying to be exactly like her.  I also learned that Mama never expected me to be just like her.  She wanted me to be “lady like,” but she knew that I was not wired just like her.

Mama loved teaching, visiting with her friends, attending church functions, and working in her garden.  Mama never learned to ride a bike or swim.  She didn’t like storms or snow and she preferred car rides over plane rides.  She encouraged me to eat fresh instead of canned vegetables and she preferred homemade pound cake over processed desserts.  She loved things that have never ranked high on my priority list – club meetings, church meetings, eating pound cake on a saucer, formal china, and wearing stockings on a hot, humid day in the Alabama.  Mama was routinely the essence of class and elegance who had a baby at forty-two when she believed she was going through menopause.  She told me she was shocked, but thanked God for a daughter to be with her as she aged.

She was my mother and my friend.  She was my mentor and my promoter.  She provided guidance about life, family, and the balance of the two.  Some of my fondest memories of Mama were the times when she chose adventure over avoidance.  I am now in the age group that my mom was in during my childhood and I realize the difficulty of trying new things later in life.  Now, I have a new respect for her decisions to chose to be uncomfortable for the benefit of her young, energetic, talkative daughter.

Mama feared activities that involved water like swimming, fishing, and boating.  Daddy, on the other hand, loved fishing and he had always dreamed of owning a boat.  I was the kid who wanted to go fishing and boating whenever Daddy said go and Mama didn’t want her baby to be out there without her.  She wanted to be nearby so that she could keep me safe.  I never understood how she planned to do that since she couldn’t swim and she hated the water.  This was also before the time of cell phones so I’m not even sure how she would summon help for me, if needed.  She mandated that I take swimming lessons at the YMCA before she would let me go along with daddy on a fishing or boating trip.  She said that she would feel better about me being on the water if I could swim.  Although she required me to take lessons, she refused to watch me in the pool because of her fear of water.  Years later she laughed about how she worked up her nerve to watch me swim one day during my lessons and got to the pool and learned that it was the day the instructor was going to make us jump into the deepest end of the pool.  I remember seeing her poolside and being excited that my mother was watching me.  I had no idea that she was terrified and regretting her decision to attend my swim lesson that day.  I successfully completed the classes and earned the right to go fishing with daddy.

Even though she agreed to let me go fishing, she insisted that we all have life jackets if we fished from the banks of the river or the lake or if we rode in the boat.  Daddy bought the jackets for us.  He and I had the orange version of the life jacket that the salesman said was standard.  Mama demanded the most expensive life jacket.  Her jacket was fashionable and pricey just like the left-handed rod and reel daddy bought for her.  Regardless of what we thought about her safety standards, she was satisfied that we would be safe when we had the gear.  We drew attention from other fishermen who saw us wearing the life jackets while we stood at the shore casting our lines into the river.  I felt that all eyes were on us and that everyone was laughing at us for being overdressed.

Mama hated airplanes and flying.  One time we were chosen to represent a family organization at a national meeting in California.  I was excited about taking my first flight and Mama was apprehensive.  I didn’t understand her apprehensive nor did I grasp the depth of her anxiety about taking flight until we got on the plane.  Once we were seated, the flight attendant came to our row and told us that she was escorting an unaccompanied minor.  The flight attendant told Mama that she had a great idea: The unaccompanied female minor would be a great candidate to take the empty seat on our three-person row.  Mama said fine and offered either the aisle seat or the window seat.  The flight attendant looked as shocked as I did.  The little girl was holding the playing cards given to her by the flight attendant and we had visions of Old Maid or gin rummy in our heads.  In my surprised kid voice I told Mama that I needed to sit next to the little girl so that we could play.  Mama said, “I’m not sitting by the aisle or the window.  You all can play and I will hold the card for you.”  Mama had spoken.  While we didn’t understand it or like it, but we respected her decision and went with it.

I used to think that Mama’s fears and precautionary measures were extreme.  For most people they probably were extreme, but I am thankful that she risked embarrassment and discomfort in order to offer me exposure to the things that frightened her.  I am thankful that she faced her fears and gave me safe places to engage in new adventures.  Even in her eighties my family and I continued to work to help her overcome fears.  We took her to put her feet in the Gulf of Mexico on her eightieth birthday.  She remarked that it was warm and beautiful.  Subsequently, she moved to live with us in a place where we had snow in the winter.  She called me brave because I drove in the snow. Although she stated that she would never travel by plane over water, she enjoyed hearing stories about the global travels of our family.  She supported my daughter’s studies abroad and she remarked that her granddaughter was brave and smart for navigating international travel.

My mother set an awesome example for me on the benefits of trying new things.  She taught me the value of letting young people see you be vulnerable and courageous enough to risk failure or challenge in front of them.  Our decisions to openly manage our trials show young people that it is possible to get somewhat comfortable with discomfort in order to elevate your self.  Your confrontation with your fears will encourage young people to try new things too.  Writing about mother’s display of courage in her fifties inspires me to continue to embrace the life changes that I am dealing with right now.  She taught me to consider the pros and cons of adventures without being paralyzed by fear or anxiety.  I work hard to promote these ideas when I talk to young people and I hope the grown folks in my audience will do the same.  We must remind young people about the importance of building supportive teams throughout life that can be safety nets for them as they embrace adventurous opportunities in their lives.