Being... Me

Image by JF ⎝⏠⏝⏠⎠ Santos via Flickr

I've heard so many people talk about how difficult it is to grow up in homes where their parents were alcoholic, abusive, negligent, or just plain mean. My heart goes out to anyone who grew up in such circumstances. I was very lucky to have wonderful parents. My childhood memories are good ones for the most part. I was truly blessed.

However, I can tell you that when your mother is a living saint, it can be difficult, too. All of my life when people met me and learned who my mother is, inevitably I would hear, "She's the sweetest person I've ever known!" It's not that I didn't love hearing that. My mother truly is one of the sweetest people in the world. I love and admire her greatly. What I learned of God, goodness, and unconditional love I learned from Mama. But when I was growing up, and even as a young adult, I kept trying to live up to the example of "perfection" she set for me, and I always came up short and lacking.

I tried to pattern my life after Mama's. Grew up, went to college for a couple of years, got married, had three children, taught Sunday School, was "super soccer mom." And one day I was just burned out. I had given and given and there was nothing left inside me. I developed some interests outside my home, much to my husband's consternation. Push came to shove, and the marriage dissolved. I knew as I walked away that I was a failure not just to my husband but also to my mom.

I lived with a lot of guilt over the dissolution of my marriage for many years. I stayed away from my parents' home because I felt ashamed that I had so totally disappointed them. It was during those years away, though, that I discovered facets of myself that I didn't know existed. These hidden traits instead of being "bad" were what gave me strength. I learned that I could be independent and self-supporting. More important I found that I am passionate and powerful beyond my wildest imagination. I also learned that although Mama is a living saint in the eyes of most people, I'm not her.

When I was growing up, every Christmas we had a pageant at our church. Over and over again I was asked to play the part of the Virgin Mary in those pageants. That was great for me then. I was a young innocent girl much like Mary must have been when Gabriel told her she would give birth to a son. Even the part of Mother Mary fit me for so many years as I played the part of the mother with young children. But to be complete-to be whole-I needed that touch of raw passion that the Magdalen has to offer. So I have welcomed all three aspects into myself.

I am not my mother. I'm not a living saint. I have a lot of her attributes-I'm loving, caring, tolerant, understanding. But I'm also full of life force, fire and passion. I am Martha, and today that's more than good enough.

Namaste!