My Mother Wasn’t Perfect, but She Was Mine

A few days past Mother’s day and I’m still thinking about my mom. She’s been gone for 16 years and not a day goes by without a thought of  her. And, when I think of her, I think of the plan and work of God. Why? Because my mother and I had a very difficult relationship when I was growing up. A relationship that God healed in the end. But, a relationship that buried into my young heart much confusion, rejection, hurt and years of unraveling the pain.

A relationship that left me with the wounds of rejection.

It took me years to begin talking about this mother-daugther pain. No matter how badly my heart hurt, my heart loved my mom more. She wasn’t perfect, but she was mine. My mom, the one who carried me, the one who didn’t want another child, the one who was so filled and fueled by her own hurts that she passed them my way. Yes, that mom, the one who hurt me, is the one I still love to this day.

I was one of the lucky ones. Before a year or so before she died my mother was courageous enough to tell me what was going on for her when I was young. A woman with an 11 year old daughter, in a lousy marriage to an alcoholic, wanted out badly. She dreamed of it, secretly planned an exit but then found out she was pregnant with me. She told me that she felt she hated me from the time she knew I was within her. I spoiled the plan. God knew.

When I was born she heard my cry and at that moment she knew it would be OK. She felt a rush of mother love and it was a relief. But in those early days I would cry when she held me, while settling down when my sister held me or worse yet being content when my father who smelled like a brewery held me. She felt rejected by a baby. It was more than she could bear. Her rejection was passed on to me, a heartprint she didn’t realize she was imprinting on my soul.

So, as she told me, when I was about 6 months old she made a decision. She promised God ( she was a devout Catholic at the time) that she would raise me and provide my every need, but that she could not let me into her heart.  A stubborn woman she kept her promise. I had everything I ever needed, except the warmth, snuggles and love of my mommy. She successfully kept me at arm’s length and I continually felt my own mother didn’t like me. God knew.

I spent my entire childhood trying to get her attention. I became an overachiever in many areas. On the outside I looked like a star child while on the inside I was always spinning faster and faster to make my mama proud of me. It was a race I could not win.

As I grew up, I also grew up with an aching need. A need for love. Popularity didn’t fill me, it just left me more empty. Right before starting college I accepted Jesus Christ as my Lord and Savior. I need a Savior. I longed for love and acceptance. I was young but already tired of running on the inside. Within six month of my salvation, both of my parents became Christ followers too.

The healing was about to begin. God always knew.

And this is the part that fascinates me today….God knows our story. He was with us in each page being written and He desires for us to bring each page to him and each paragraph of the story that was painful into his presence. He has been bringing many of us to a place of healing for years. It’s my prayer that my story will begin to ignite in you memories of yours. Let the healing begin.

I will continue with the story of healing in my next post.

But one closing thought…if you are a Mom, remember, always remember that you are partnering with God in the shaping and raising of a life that was created for His purposes. You are leaving heart prints daily on that child’s soul. Be careful, be prayerful and be grateful for the calling of motherhood. Quite possibly the highest calling of all. The heartbeat of the home, that is who you are. Let God’s heart beat through yours.

Much love to you,

Debbie