What I Didn’t Know

My daughter is nearly 13. This November she will have her golden birthday on the 13th. We are all excited… her being the most excited of course! She wanted to go on a trip with me to Paris or something just as far away and wonderful… but I knew that I wouldn’t be able to make that work. So I bounced off my dilemma with Jeff, knowing he would know what I could do to make my 13 year old birthday girl happy. He suggested a weekend spa get away. I WhatsApped her right away and she screeched with delight. Turns out, a salt cave, a facial, and a massage in the next state over with just me and her… is almost as grand as Paris!

So all that 13 year old stuff must have got me thinking… thinking what I didn’t know at 13 about my own mom.

I didn’t know my mom surely felt young when I was 13. Much too young to have a teenager like me. In fact she probably felt a little disappointed when she would tell strangers my age and they wouldn’t even look surprised at all that such a young mother would have a teenager!

At the very same time and breath, I didn’t realize how aged my mom probably felt when I was 13. Tired of the constant care she put into me, yet realizing there is never enough of her to reach out to everyone in the family 100%. Feeling like she’s never enough. Never knowing when to let go and when to step in, never knowing how much to teach and control herself or let God and circumstance teach and control. Never knowing for sure when to rest or when to work… because decisions like that could mean either Mary instead of Martha or idleness instead of Godliness… how does one know?? All those decisions and battles every day makes a mother feel old. I didn’t know that until now.

I didn’t know how both proud and humbled my mom must have felt when I was 13. Proud that I was more beautiful and creative and strong than she ever imagined. Proud that I had friends and was kind. But humbled that I was very much a selfish, strong willed child that had a lot to learn. Humbled that I in fact wasn’t kind at very important moments. And the things that I needed to learn for myself she would quietly deep down inside blame herself that I wasn’t learning them. In fact when she scolded she felt guilty; like really she should be scolding herself, not me. So many, many times she wouldn’t even reprimand me because she felt like yes, it was indeed she that needed to change and lead by example, not me.

I never knew that mom savored the quiet peaceful moments so much and they felt so very rare… because even when things were quiet, her mind was so busy with stressful things and worry. So she would have to strive quiet her mind as well. I now know why she would cry… but at 13 I could not understand.

I never knew that my voice and actions counted so much more than I thought. The kind words that I said to her, she would savor and tuck away in her heart. She would think of them later and smile. The way I would organize the cupboards just for fun or babysit the boys, or sing to the baby would make her feel younger and happy and less stressed. But those biting words that I said in anger would tear her heart and make her cry… she would think of them later and feel like a failure. She would want to come get me when I’d run and hide instead of sweep the floor or clean my room…. but she knew I’d be mad. Was it worth the fight? And all those times that she helped me with my mess instead of doing her work… well I never knew how unselfish of her that was.

I didn’t know at 13 how much my mom cherished me.

And I never knew at 13 how much I love my mom.