“Mothers can look through a child’s eyes and see tomorrow.”
– Reed Markham
My daughter turned 30 last Friday. Her birthday weekend was reminiscent of many years of backyard parties—celebrations complete with light saber wars, princesses, Dorothy’s red sparkly shoes, fire engines, camp-outs, tug of war and more! Days gone by full of fond memories. Her birthday in August kicks off the “Rice Birthday Run” with five more special days from now until early November.
To celebrate she planned a throwback beach party akin to the birthday bash she had at our family lake cabin on her Golden 13th Birthday. This time a fiesta complete with pink color changing cups, a margarita machine and fajitas. That Mary Claire! My word for her is panache—doing things with a stylish flair, a thoughtful touch, or a delectable taste. No one will argue with me that knows her. Having infused color and a spirit of celebration in all aspects of our family life, she is all that and more. No one is a bigger fan of her three younger brothers. No one has a fiercer love for her aunt with Down Syndrome or her Gram.
God blessed me to be a mom, and mothering these four humans the past 30 years has been a privilege. I am humbled and grateful. I’d like to think I was excellent at it most often. Yet, I know I was growing up right beside side them most days, so mistakes were made. LOTS of mistakes! I may have pushed a bit too hard. I may have nudged, cajoled or over suggested in promoting my own agenda. Perhaps it was about a school writing project, some experience I thought they needed or a summer job to seek out. It may also have been about how to be a better friend or sibling, the proper use of their napkin or how not to track football turf crumbs into the house or leave athletic cups strewn about? I’m publicly apologizing for all the goofs—for being a try hard when I should have offered a quiet hug and a listening ear instead.
In re-reading my journals of long ago I catch snippets of their innocence again. Pieces of the past offering funny, authentic, honest, wide-eyed wonder-filled ways to view the world...to remember our family life. And, my heart is full. I wonder if their hearts are full too. Author Anna Quindlen once shared when reminiscing about her own adult children, “Even today I’m not sure what worked and what didn’t, what was me and what was simply life. When they were very small, I suppose I thought someday they would become who they were because of what I’d done. Now I suspect they simply grew into their true selves because they demanded in a thousand ways that I back off and let them be.”
My Gallup Connectedness and Learner strengths confirm that I may never stop trying to share some inspiration, information or perspective on some slice of life. I imagine I will always be up for the difficult conversations that may arise in needing to say or listen to the hard thing in love and transparency. After all, life is full of joy and heartache and both need to be acknowledged along the journey. Perhaps, though, I will be mostly nurturing (not nagging) and joyful (not judging) in our friendships. I’d like to believe that my mothering has moved into full on mentoring— talking less, listening more and loving always in the beautiful chaos of it all.
Here’s to thirty, flirty and thriving! I wish Mary Claire and her brothers many trips around the sun, full of delight, hope and possibilities—complete with star gazing, long walks, bike rides, porch sitting and a sweet slice of dessert after a family meal.