Hold My Hand: Embracing the “Mom”ents of Life

I dreamt about mom again last night.  Though it’s hard to believe she’s been gone for over seven months now, she’s been in many a dream since.  When my mind is finally at peace after running around after my one year old, as well as my five and seven year old homeschooled children, and I am finally resting, I am free to find the universal comfort I am missing so much.  Mom.  Though I awaken with a deeper longing to see her after one of these dreams, I have been so touched by the messages I continue to learn from her even after her death.  The one last night was simple, “Slow down. Hold my hand.”  She was tugging on my arm as I tried to run ahead.  I paused to view her in surprise, not realizing that she wanted me to go at a much slower pace.  I took her hand and we went forward together, slow but steady, because we had one another to lean on.
         I’m not sure why I was surprised by that message in my dream.  The stories we all gather to tell about mom all run the very same vein.  She was a patient big sister to her brother, an outstanding teen who always made time for the younger relatives who were infatuated by the age, class, beauty and wit of their older cousin. She was a brilliant valedictorian in her high school class revered by her peers for her study skills and humility, and she graduated with honors from college.  She then married, became a first grade teacher, and then stay-at-home mother to four children.
         This time of child-rearing was the pinnacle of her existence, for there, in the many years of just being “mom” and later “Grammy,” she found herself, and didn’t complain about what she missed.  In this role, she always made time to play with us, even when it was simply lying on her bed, scratching our backs, baking, drawing pictures together, or reading stories.  In just about everything she did, Mom exuded taking it slow, and showing patience, love, and grace.  It always seemed she was born to love the “small stuff” of life, which as even we ambitious types know deep down, is really the big stuff.
         Knowing how we differ in personality, it isn’t all still shocking that she would be calling me to remember to stop and embrace the present.  I was very thankful for the message, because I cannot hear it enough.  My children are my world, and whenever I try to conquer something else, something seemingly bigger, I always feel bankrupt at the day’s end if I don’t find the opportunity to love my children well, knowing the time spent with them is the highest accolade anyone can earn.
         If you too, struggle to with sitting still and enjoying the small moments of life, join me in listening for the “here and now” time with the children you were made to embrace.  With my personality, I feel best (and blessed) when I stay creative and embrace my intellectual side sometimes.  As always, however, mom came to remind me not to miss the best “mom”ents of life, by calling me to slow down to hold hands with the ones I have in the here and now.  I wish I could hold my mom’s hand now, and I wish I had more often.  I am glad she is holding the hand of the Lord now, and through the love I carry inside, nudging me to learn from her wonderful example.

3 responses to “Hold My Hand: Embracing the “Mom”ents of Life

  1. You have lovely memories of growing up with your Mother. I believe that would please any Mother worthy of the name, remembered…daily.

  2. What a beautiful memory…. Your mother sounded like just an amazing women, who taught you how to truly love… What a blessing the Lord has allowed her to come visit with you in your dreams…

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s