Mother, May I?

I haven't written much about fathers thus far, because they were so noticeably absent from my life. It would be so much easier if I were the one who slammed the doors, then I could chat about my motives, but the truth is they were the ones who slammed the door. And while I have some areas of discussion to cover about them, they will just have to wait a bit. For now, I want to talk about mothers - my mothers and my own motherhood. This is going to hurt, and may take me a bit to get through. Yet, start I must.  So with your permission, mother, may I?

It is now several days later, and my mind goes 'round and 'round.  I pray. I seek. I read what my sisters in Christ have written. I know I must write things as I experienced them, and how they affected my own motherhood, and many of my life decisions.

The truth is my birth mother threw me away.  She wrote a letter to me many years later, hoping I would forgive her and understand.  I have forgiven her, but it is beyond me to understand.  I wasn't her only child.  I was her fourth child, and she was pregnant with her first child in her new family. She had three more children. She never gave any of them away. And so she wrote me a letter.  I wonder what I was supposed to do with it, other than read it and forgive her. Probably nothing.  Probably the Lord wanted me to be free of the heavy load of wondering my whole life what I had done wrong. Wondering why He had created me too ugly that nobody would want me.  Wondering. Confused. Anxious. Yet, somehow stronger for my personal battles within.  I had few months with her, months filled with caution on both our parts.  Certainly she displayed no generous mother's love towards me.  My siblings didn't help, as there were established relationships there, and I was definitely an intruder. When she passed away, my siblings set about dividing up her goods. They told me I could have anything I wanted, as long as I paid for it.  She did love those children she kept, and I am thankful the Lord allowed me some time to put to rest all the questions I had. For it was God who gave me the strength and healing.

A week after my birth mother's death I received a letter in the mail from my eldest sister, Nettie.  It was two pages long, and in the letter she explained how I was responsible for her mother's death by coming back where I wasn't wanted. One exact passage I will never forget:  You are nothing short of a murderer. You might as well taken a butcher knife and stabbed her in the heart. You are so evil, and nobody wants you around.

The rest of the family thought i should just learn to live with the poison. This was just one example of many hateful things propagated by Nettie, and supported by other family members.  Even while my mother was alive, she saw no reason not to aceede to Nettie's viturperative attitude towards me.  My mother always yielded to whatever Nettie said or did. As time passed, it only grew to untenable proportions.

My husband and I were already making plans to move across country  to Oregon.  We were able to accomplish our move in 1985.

It is once again several days since I have approached this writing. One thing I have come to understand is that I cannot integrate each mother into one telling. I must divide them into their own space and time in my writing.  God will not let me skim over them.  What I learned about love, rejection, self-worth and womanhood, I learned from my mothers. In my writing I must try to find good, and free myself of and bitterness.  In my dreams I could never have imagined how deep and hurtful writing about my mothers would be.  I had thought the pain would come from [absence of] my fathers, but no.  My fathers taught me about rejection. I am learning the real pain, my foundational cracks come from my mothers.

No matter where this takes me, I am left with this from my Bible reading today:

     Proverbs 23:22-25 

Listen to your father who begot you,

And do not despise your mother when he is old.

Buy the truth, and do not sell it,

Also wisdom and instruction and understanding.

The father of the righteous will greatly rejoice,

And he who begets a wise child will delight in him.

Let your father and your mother be glad,

And let her who bore you rejoice.

Jennie Baker Allen Jones ca. 1928