Even though I frequently forget what day of the week it is, I am going to kick off my new idea-Family Feature Fridays. Each Friday (forgive me if it happens on a Saturday or Thursday or, let's be honest, even a Tuesday), I will write about a different member of my family and what that person has taught me. In the spirit of Julie Andrews, I begin at the very beginning. As we all know, it's a very fine place to start!
Dawn Alice McClure, my mama, taught me how to blow a bubble, properly shuffle a deck of cards, french braid, and bake perfect chocolate chip cookies and pumpkin pies. She told me to carry a book with me everywhere I went,
and that said book should be written by one Dr. Seuss, master wordsmith.
Said book by
said wordsmith could be checked out of the most magical place in the land--the public library.
She took me through her own School of Rock by saying, "I'll give you a quarter if you can tell me who sings this," then laughing when I would forget it was the Stones for the hundredth time. In singing old hymns and lullabies while rocking me to sleep, educating me on the history of rock and roll, expounding upon "The Spirit of Radio," explaining to me the importance of Cher's groundbreaking outfits in the 70's, and taking me to concerts, she made music an integral part of my soul (a gift I am very thankful for).
 |
| At the concert where Elton John touched our hands-phenomenal night! |
She showed me that having fun is important, not just as a tool but as the objective. We have spent and continue to spend countless hours playing hundreds of different games-of the card, dice, board, and video variety. She taught me the value of fun, but she also taught me how to persevere. She never let me win; teaching me instead how to lose gracefully, learn fast, and fight for a victory.
Recently, I've noticed how brave my mom is in her passion. I have seen this woman defend music, books, movies, and loved ones with no apologies. I love her courage in that. Detractors don't matter to her. She loves what she loves, and she won't change her mind because someone writes a snarky facebook comment about it. She is a beautiful example to me.
 |
| Ahh, the 90's. Good times! |
My mama taught me to fight for family, and that asking for help when you need it is a courageous and powerful thing to do. I've written about my struggles before, but I haven't written much about where I'd be in those struggles if it weren't for my mom. I was five years old when my family began to suspect I had O.C.D. (even more obscure and stigmatized then than it is now). Instead of ignoring it like many parents do, or hoping I would grow out of it, or trying to punish it out of my system, my family got me help. My mom drove me to every appointment (an hour and a half away), worked through every strategy, read every book on the subject, took on the job of constantly reassuring me and talking me through each worry with the perfect answer to allow me to sleep or calm down enough to get through the day. She allowed me to feel comfortable enough to tell her anything (which she now might regret as I developed a habit of telling her
everything). She absorbed every bit of my fear and anxiety and, miraculously, helped me find fun along the way.
After I experienced a tragedy in high school, my mom suspected I was suffering from depression. This was stigmatized even by
my standards. I was shocked and hurt she even suggested it. What followed would be the battle of my life, and I had help only because she found it for me. I'm crying now thinking of how much hurt she has endured on my behalf...how many nights she has held me while I wept until I had nothing left, how many days I got through because she made me keep going, and how many times she has cried out to God on my behalf. She saw me through eight years of heartache without once giving up hope for me. She has continued to see me through mental and physical pain, and she never, ever lets me quit. She raised a fighter, and she taught me that getting help is a form of fighting.
 |
| Beach Babies |
I thought writing this would be easy. It wasn't. Trying to capture on one page almost twenty-five years of incredible love is impossible. My mom is truly my best friend. Other than my husband, she's my first phone call with bad news, good news, or no news. She cheers me on and builds me up; when I fall back, she's still behind me, waiting to catch me. I hope to someday be half the mother she is. I pray my children will feel as safe as she made me feel, that they will be able to tell me anything, and that they would find the same strength, grace, and wisdom in me as I find in her.
How do I love thee, Mama? I couldn't possibly count the ways. Thank you for continuing to teach me about life, loyalty, marriage, faith, and the heart of the matter.
 |
| Kindle Ad |
 |
| I love her just a little bit! |
Comments