Be careful what you wish for
That's one of mom's favorite lines. A piece of cautionary advice, a last word during late-night kitchen table conversations. In essence, full of motherly warning, but somehow still leaving you to your own devices.
I wonder then what she wished for, as a 21 year old standing at the beginning of a now 32-year marriage.
Could she have imagined herself bearing and raising six children?
Could she have foreseen the extreme tests her home-making skills would be subject to?
Could she have known those days when her patience would be stretched thin?
Could she have anticipated both the sorrow and the joy of motherhood and family life?
But no one is ever prepared for these things, even those armed with a very specific degree, or even the right character. And no one can truly appreciate or understand what it really takes, until they find themselves in that moment, playing the role.
As her daughter, I am wholly grateful that she went down the path she did, paving the way not just for this existence, but also shaping the person I've become. I can only pray that the fulfillment of her dreams was all she'd hoped for.
When I think of mom in her element, in the kitchen, it is not an image of her meticulously laboring with much love, or even holding the fort and managing the household with such aplomb. It is none of these things and perhaps all of these things I can only aspire to.
But when the last morsel is finished and all the dishes are washed, we remain seated around that table--and her stories go on.
I remember mom sharing animatedly, listening sincerely, being there completely.
I think she would say these things out of love, so we would know and not be left in the dark.
Now more than ever, living this independence that I'd wished for--without a proper kitchen table--I remember her daily wisdom in the little things.
And I could not imagine life and growing up any other way.
* * *
Mom and I in our kitchen finery, circa 2010, Ang Mo Kio 312
This is for you, mommy, a prayer with this (belated) birthday tribute.
I don't need to make any carefully crafted wishes, only to be floated into the ether without a chance of being heard. For in you, He has answered and fulfilled many a yearning, from that of a helpless child's to a grown woman's.
I thank the Lord for another year in your life. I thank Him for the life and love you have generously shared. I pray that God keep you in His care always, with more joyful years ahead for you and dad. As that song goes, I wish you love--His love and from all who surround you.
And should I one day find myself blessed with the same gift and charge of motherhood--I do wish and pray for the same grace, wisdom, strength and humor with which you have illumined our lives.
Happy Happy Birthday, Mommy! I love you!
I wonder then what she wished for, as a 21 year old standing at the beginning of a now 32-year marriage.
Could she have imagined herself bearing and raising six children?
Could she have foreseen the extreme tests her home-making skills would be subject to?
Could she have known those days when her patience would be stretched thin?
Could she have anticipated both the sorrow and the joy of motherhood and family life?
But no one is ever prepared for these things, even those armed with a very specific degree, or even the right character. And no one can truly appreciate or understand what it really takes, until they find themselves in that moment, playing the role.
As her daughter, I am wholly grateful that she went down the path she did, paving the way not just for this existence, but also shaping the person I've become. I can only pray that the fulfillment of her dreams was all she'd hoped for.
When I think of mom in her element, in the kitchen, it is not an image of her meticulously laboring with much love, or even holding the fort and managing the household with such aplomb. It is none of these things and perhaps all of these things I can only aspire to.
But when the last morsel is finished and all the dishes are washed, we remain seated around that table--and her stories go on.
I remember mom sharing animatedly, listening sincerely, being there completely.
I think she would say these things out of love, so we would know and not be left in the dark.
Now more than ever, living this independence that I'd wished for--without a proper kitchen table--I remember her daily wisdom in the little things.
And I could not imagine life and growing up any other way.
* * *
Mom and I in our kitchen finery, circa 2010, Ang Mo Kio 312
This is for you, mommy, a prayer with this (belated) birthday tribute.
I don't need to make any carefully crafted wishes, only to be floated into the ether without a chance of being heard. For in you, He has answered and fulfilled many a yearning, from that of a helpless child's to a grown woman's.
I thank the Lord for another year in your life. I thank Him for the life and love you have generously shared. I pray that God keep you in His care always, with more joyful years ahead for you and dad. As that song goes, I wish you love--His love and from all who surround you.
And should I one day find myself blessed with the same gift and charge of motherhood--I do wish and pray for the same grace, wisdom, strength and humor with which you have illumined our lives.
Happy Happy Birthday, Mommy! I love you!