Pillars of a Boss Mom

Where is my sucker? This is an essential question for me, a toddler when my sucker was missing. I was digging in the trash for my sucker, on a mission, singularly focused until I could find it. I was not thinking about being fearful or fearless, dirty or germy, just thinking about my sucker and not thinking about the picture, just thinking about the sucker. Then, finally, after my mother snapped a picture of my first dumpster dive, I got it; I ate it. She didn't scold me; she captured the precious moment in time.

We always thought we needed more when the bills came due or when the bank account was as empty as the refrigerator. We stood in line for the free lunch and WIC cheese and milk, were elated when a church function had a bounty of leftover food they would swing by afterward because we always had room and bellies to fill. She accepted hand-me-down clothes and bedding from the neighbors without our standard embarrassed and awkward gestures but with grace and love knowing that recycling these items would teach us valuable lessons. Mom always found others that were needier than us and gently showed us how to give and receive gifts. She always gave to the needy with dignity. When you received a gift from my mother, it was presented with genuine care, a warm smile, thoughtful conversation, and a full-body hug, wrapped in special paper and shiny bows to make you feel unique and special as she saw you. On the other hand, we had wrapping paper that was dug out of the neighbor's trash by me. It was the Sunday funny papers that we saved all year to have enough to wrap our presents.

When mom was in a hurry, I was often lagging. She would urge me on by telling me she was waiting on my shadow. I would look back in complete amazement that she was waiting on my shadow as if she didn't know that my shadow was an extension of me and controlled by me. The animated tap of her foot and gawking look at her watch and exclaim right at the moment I would look up and wonder what she was waiting on. I was always ten steps behind her. She would say, I am just waiting on your shadow. I would look back, find in and smile back at her. She would ask me if I can make that shadow hurry up because we have to see a man about a horse. I said, Yeah, on got this one you run along. I knew she knew that the shadow was under my control, but it was nice of her to let me have the power and kick that shadow into high gear. I would hurry up and motion for that shadow to come along now and grab her outstretched hand.

Even with having so little, she found incredible ways to give back to the community. At a large charity auction, my mom served as chairman and organized the entire event; she outbid everyone on a popular item that everyone in town had been looking forward to bidding on. Then she prominently and promptly returned the item to the auction block, saying it was her last-minute donation. The room erupted with cheers and tears of joy for her gesture. After some friendly banter, It went up for bid again. It sold for the same amount then that next winning bidder gave it back again. This bidding and gifting back to the auction went on for several bidders until the last bidder gathered all the other winning bidders together and gave it to my mother. She laughed and cried and thanked them from the bottom of her humble heart.

I am proud and thankful for the myriad of ways my mother taught life lessons. She thought and did life fearlessly her way outside of a box, in the shape of a shadow, with the power of my own choices, the spirit of giving when you think you have nothing to offer, the creativity to find solutions to society's problems and the value of all humanity.