Mommas… Never outgrow them.

I wish my mom was still around. I think about that when things get trying. You know, mommas just figure things out, they are problem solvers, when you’re weak they are mighty. And I’m not so sure any of us outgrow wanting that. If momma isn’t strong enough physically, she probably makes up for it in wisdom or comfort. Mommas are just awesome.

My mom would still be working if she were alive. Maybe she wouldn’t need to work financially, but she would be because it was fulfilling for her. But I bet she would have taken a week off of work and flew here to help us out. Jeremy wouldn’t have minded either because she wouldn’t have been the kind of inlaw that you dread visits from. She was fun loving and silly and liked people to like her. She was also unbelievably nurturing and intuitive. I bet she would have cooked one of her chicken brocolli casseroles and taken the kids shopping for new shoes. She would have poured me baths and brought me a water bottle for my back. She would have popped a beer for Jeremy and herself when he got home. They would have probably spent a lot of time making fun of my quirks and bad habits, and they would gang up against me and make me laugh angrily with them because, man, they both had me pegged. When it was time for her to go, I probably would have cried, because I always hated missing her.

This past year was one of healing for me. When we went to Florida last September, my Aunt, who I hadn’t seen or spoken to since soon after mom died, drove down from Georgia to see me. We spent a few days catching up and forgiving. I had carried around so much hurt and anamosity for a very long time and it was so freeing to let that go, I can’t tell you. I never understood (or wanted to understand) why she had done the crushing things she did until I sat down with her, woman to woman, and listened. And I couldn’t help but feel this heaviness lift as I saw her with different eyes. I’m so grateful to have her back in my world again. Someone extra to love my children, someone extra to care and to care about. Not to mention, she reminds me so much of my mom.

So with all this healing I’ve seen in two years, some with my dad, a lot with my grandmother, loads with my sister, and tons with my aunt– I started trying to encourage Jeremy to start heading that direction with his family as well. I mean, I’ve never discouraged him from trying to find forgiveness and peace with his family. But I wanted it more for him after experiencing how freeing it was for me.

I think there’s a lot to it, and his wounds are much fresher than mine. Some of his burden comes from the fact that he’s tired of feeling a tug to keep peace between them (namely his mom) and me. But I’ve told him, so many times, that there’s no need to pick sides anymore. I used to want to be a part of his family, partly because I didn’t have one of my own. And when I was not accepted, over and over, Jeremy took it to heart too. Why wouldn’t he? Everyone wants to be loved and accepted for their entirety, including the choices they make and the loves they choose. But the difference between now and then is that I don’t want to be accepted anymore, I’m just fine with being liked or not being liked, and there is absolutely no reason to keep trying to have something that just ain’t happening. So, now that we’ve established that: GO! Go and have a seperate relationship with them there and then come back home to me and we’ll keep having this goodness here. You can have both! You don’t have to choose! Goodness knows, I don’t wish for anyone to be motherless, brotherless, or childless or whatever because of stubborness and ego and selfishness– I wasted a lot of time on that. I have absolutely no intention of ever trying to be a part of his family with him again. Not because they are awful people, no, but because we just never made it work and the hurt that comes from trying and failing brings too much rejection for me. I don’t do well with that. I’ve outgrown needing to fit in, especially where I never will. And I’ve quit trying to figure out why because sometimes those things just have no rhyme or reason. They just are.

Anyhow. I guess this post comes from reflecting on mothers–that we never outgrow needing them and the comforts they give. How short life is. How healing forgiveness is. How awesomely awesome it would be for either Jeremy or me to have a mother, in trying times like this especially. Since I can’t will my momma back (trust, I’ve tried), maybe healing with those that she brought into my life is the only way to touch her again. When I miss her, I’ll pick up the phone and call Candace, or Aunt Elizabeth, or Nana, or my Dad. And I will keep sending goodness and positivity to Jeremy over his healing with his momma and family.

Gosh. I sure would like some chicken broccoli casserole right now… Here’s my momma’s recipe, for anyone wondering what my childhood memories tasted like…

Susan’s Yummy Chicken Broc Casserole

INGREDIENTS

• 1 pound chopped fresh broccoli
• 1 1/2 cups cubed, cooked chicken meat
• 1 (10.75 ounce) can condensed cream of broccoli soup
• 1/3 cup milk
• 1/2 cup shredded Cheddar cheese
• 1 tablespoon butter, melted
• 2 tablespoons dried bread crumbs

DIRECTIONS

1. Preheat oven to 450 degrees F (230 degrees C).
2. Place the broccoli in a saucepan with enough water to cover. Bring to a boil, and cook 5 minutes, or until tender. Drain.
3. Place the cooked broccoli in a 9 inch pie plate. Top with the chicken. In a bowl, mix the soup and milk, and pour over the chicken. Sprinkle with Cheddar cheese. Mix the melted butter with the bread crumbs, and sprinkle over the cheese.
4. Bake in the preheated oven for 15 minutes, or until bubbly and lightly brown.

Posted by: stepherz | 03-16-2009 | 05:03 PM
Posted in: Just Me | Susan