Wednesday, August 13, 2014

responding to a mother's worry

My mother wrote to me last night with what she called, unfounded worry. She asked me to forgive her if she steps out of line and said:

"I don't want interfere and I don't want to make things my business that don't belong to me. 
I worry about you because I am your mother and I love you. I cannot pinpoint why I worry. I have no definitive reason that brings me to this worry.  
It is not person or situation specific. It is just an uneasy feeling I have. 
. . . I just want you to know how important you are, how much you are needed and how much you are loved . . . " 
: : : 

Even though fear was rummaging around the walls of my heart, and . . . 

     I wasn't completely comfortable with what I had to say, and . . .
     I wondered what I could have possibly done to make her be worried, and . . .
     I wanted to run and hide, and scream and shout in defense of myself, and . . .
     I sometimes forget to count the gifts . . .

I scripted a response and sent it . . . in the midst of the fear . . . because:

I'm learning to honor myself, as I am
     . . . and I'm learning to honor others, too, as they are.

: : : 

My response to my mother's worry went something like this: 

I know you love me and that's a great gift -- to know 
I truly appreciate you and how you care. 
Let me assure you that there's no need to worry. Though, mother's have this sense and that's not to be ignored, so for whatever reason that brings you to "worry" I'll just trust that you'll choose peace. I've been on a journey of rest and it's been deep and profound. Perhaps I've been distant. 
Why do people feel compelled to walk a certain line or stay outside of certain bounds? That kind of thinking isn't free to just love and care and express genuine concern and is what inhibits many of us from peace and what causes us continued restlessness, wondering what should we do? how should we act? what should we say? I've been deliberately choosing not to live that way and to be more open with my heart, though it's hard. I'm tired of the rules that imprison me; rules that I create and have based my life around that has ultimately inhibited me from living in joy and peace.
I want you to know that life is good, Mom. Truly, it's good. 
Now, in my mid-30s, I'm navigating who I am, as I am, versus who I think I ought to be. This may seem like a time to reply: "well, that's how you should have been living, silly girl" Yet, it's not how I've lived and that's just how it is. I think a lot of people my age get to this point in their lives and start to realize that we haven't been true to ourselves, and those who don't get it probably just haven't realized this about themselves. This is my story right now: learning to live freely as me and not focus so much on the imperfections.
I'm deep and often times too much for most people including myself, yet I am learning to trust God for my imperfections and trust my husband for his love. These two are profound lessons I'm in the midst of learning and it takes a lot of energy and strength and much of my heart just to live in this space. Perhaps that's a lot of the reason why I might come across as distant; there's just not a lot of words I can muster and not a lot of room in my heart right now. I'm okay with this and I trust I'm good enough in this moment, as I am. 
I hope you'll be overwhelmed with a peace that assures you that I'm in a good place. 


  1. Ah, the beauty of being able to hear your momma's heart and to reassure her of your own. What made me smile most, though was here:" I'm deep and often times too much for most people including myself, yet I am learning to trust God for my imperfections and trust my husband for his love. "... I could have written your letter myself to the same worried momma. I am deep too, and I am learning to lean into the imperfections because in my weakness He is strong. Thanks for sharing your heart, it is a beautiful one.

  2. beautiful. As a mother, I would be so reassured and loved by your words Amy.