I’m more than a little embarrassed to begin blogging again. It’s been nearly two years since I posted something for people to read. It’s not that I haven’t wanted to. It’s just than I haven’t known what to say. Or how to say it. The proof is in the number of unfinished ‘drafts’ I have.
My inner world has been cluttered and messy. Swirling emotions haven’t found their way into words, even though I’ve tried to get clarity. I always have and always will engage with my world through words. However, I must confess that it’s been easier to use a knitting pattern, yarn, and needles to fulfill my creativity streak rather than sift through the disorganized layers in my heart.
Where do I begin? I found myself really wanted to talk to my mom this morning. I’m sure it’s because Mother’s Day is coming – or because sometimes I just need my mom.
I began to do my version of spring cleaning this morning, and my thoughts meandered back in time to the days I helped my mom spring clean. Tagging along, I’m sure I talked nonstop about things that only a mom could care about. We shook out the winter dust and tucked away the quilts. Fresh cotton sheets soon hung in the breeze while the daffodils danced along. We folded, we scrubbed, we tossed, and we dusted. By the time we made supper, the house felt alive.
Mom never told me how to spring clean or even that it was a ‘thing.’ Yet, I found myself this morning, mimicking her steps and wishing we could be together so that I could once again talk about things that only a mom could care about. My mom had a special gift, better than most, where she could enter into my world to cheer me on to be all that I was created to be.
She often told me that I could do anything I set my mind to do. For years, that paralyzed me because I didn’t want to try something that I couldn’t do. I was, and still am, terrified to fail.
But, this morning, as I scrubbed my kitchen floor, I ‘heard’ her say it again. It was her encouraging me to write. To sift through my heart’s ‘winter dust’ and put away the ‘heavy fear.’ Ok Mom. I’ll try.
Sometimes to write, I just have to do it. Even if everything doesn’t make sense, I have to start. Just like I didn’t spring clean the entire house all at once. It’s a process. Perhaps I need to give myself permission to just begin the process again. Ok Mom. I think I hear you.
This is the last picture I have of my mom – taken on Mother’s Day in 1984. She knew it would be her last one on earth. We all did.
Today, I’m looking at that smile as if she’s smiling still at me. Her voice of encouragement is speaking loudly to me. Thank you Mom. Happy Mother’s Day.