What She's Taught Me

I'm an only child, and my mom was nearly 40 when she had me. My parents had been married for the better part of two decades by the time I came along.

My mom will readily tell you that there are many advantages to having a child when you are younger, and that sometimes, she wishes she had done so. But she will also say that there are benefits to waiting: more security, more experience, more wisdom.

I always appreciated growing up with older parents, and I appreciate it more the older I get. Over the years, my mom has instilled many life lessons, ideas, quirks, and experiences in me. This is just a sampling.

1. Never say you're bored.

Nothing riles my mom up like hearing someone say, "I'm bored." To her, boredom is equated with laziness. Boredom is having an inactive imagination, failing to think outside the box, being unable to entertain oneself.

My mom is never bored. It is physically impossible for her to be bored. There is always something running through her mind: an idea, a possibility, a thought. She is always creating something, either in life or in her mind. She is always planning, always thinking. There is no room for the concept of "boredom."

An experience can be boring, yes. A class or a plotline or a meeting can be boring. A situation can be boring, which might inspire you to make a change. There are instances in which a boring situation can lead to a fruitful result.

But to my mom, there is not a causal effect between something being boring and a person being bored.

To be bored, to her, is to be using only a fraction of your brain. To be bored is to not be living up to your potential. To be bored is to be insufficiently curious.

My mom taught me not to give in to the concept of "bored," when possible, and instead to always be thinking about the possibilities.

2. There is no such thing as too much celebration.

Around Christmas, my mom enters full elf mode.

We have a tree in almost every room of the house, each one a different theme. There is a cow tree, a frog tree, and a travel tree. Our one live tree is full of old handmade ornaments. Another tree is entirely decorated with antique Shiny Brite bauble ornaments.

There is a shelf in the living room that is entirely decorated with different Santa figurines. Another shelf is full of Nativity scenes. The foyer is decorated exclusively with snowmen.

Christmas is by far the most festive and grand of our celebrations, but other holidays give it a run for its money: Halloween features ghosts, pumpkins, bats, and witches all over the house. Easter brings fluffy bunnies, carrots, and chicks. Even Valentine's Day brings out the red and pink handmade hearts, wall hangings, and garlands.

I know holidays aren't everyone's thing, and I respect that. But I don't relate to it.

Life is hard. Being an adult is tedious. Why not find bright spots of joy and celebration wherever you can? My mom taught me that every opportunity to celebrate is worth it.

3. Do your best, or don't do it at all.

No one has a work ethic like my mother. No matter what she is doing, whether she is at her office or at home, at church or at the sewing machine, volunteering or on a walk or in a meeting, she is always giving it one hundred percent. Usually more.

She never gives up. She never half-asses anything. Everything she does is done with meticulous detail, care, and attention.

If she makes the tiniest mistake in a baby blanket that she's crocheting, she'll rip out row after row to fix it. If she doesn't like how a project turned out, she'll re-tool it until she's satisfied. Sometimes this perfectionism can be limiting, to be sure, but there is a certain level of pride in doing a job well.

I've often heard her say, "If you're going to do something, do it right." She taught me that if I am investing time into a task, I should make sure that I do it as well as I can.

4. ... but don't take yourself too seriously.

My mom has a serious side, to be sure. People are often intimidated by her intensity when they first meet her. But that intensity always, and often, gives way to wonder, joy, and hysterical laughter.

It's infectious when my mom finds something funny. One minute we'll be sitting around having a normal conversation, and the next minute, something has struck her as hilarious. Then she, my dad, and I are reduced to ten minutes of laughter: cry-your-eyes-out, pee-your-pants, holy-shit-I-will-never-stop-laughing laughter.

A particularly memorable example of this happened while we were passing through Chattanooga, Tennessee en route from Atlanta to Cincinnati.

We were stopped at a red light when my mom happened to look to her left out the window of the car. There was a restaurant there called Good Dog. The logo for the shop—an image of a hot dog inside a circle—was etched into the glass at the front, and there was a high top table behind it. A man was sitting at the table behind the window, eating a hot dog, and he was framed perfectly inside the logo on the window.

My mom started giggling. When she saw us looking at her, she laughed even harder. Her face started turning red.

"What?..." I began.

"There's a man! In...." she laughed harder, trying to get the words out in between breaths. "There's a man! In! The!" More laughter. "In the!"

By now both my dad, who was driving, and I were also laughing, waiting for her to finish the sentence.

"The man! Is in!" Tears streamed down her face. "THE HOT DOG!"

I don't know how my dad managed not to crash the car. I thought I was going to pass out. I was howling and crying in laughter. The hot dog man was funny, but it was really my mom's reaction that got me.

This kind of laughter happens all the time with her. The spirit catches her, and she's in hysterics.

So many things bring my mom joy. The hot dog man. A funny card at the drugstore. A tiny little knickknack found in a gift shop on a trip to Maine. A silly hat in a souvenir store in Norway. Holidays. Baking. Creating things.

My mom's laughter and joy for life is infectious. She does her work well, but she also doesn't take herself too seriously. It's a balance that I hope to always achieve.

5. Do everything with great love.

My mom's faith, service to others, and involvement in the church community are staggering. She teaches Sunday School every week. She bakes a dessert from scratch for a ministry one Tuesday a month, and has for the better part of a decade, at least. She serves on a women's retreat team every year. She has been on numerous committees and has attended many different classes. She prays constantly.

My mom does everything she does with love for God and for others. I have seen her give a ride to a stranger with a flat tire and pay to have the tire replaced. I have seen her bake cookies for the garbage truck operators who work on our street at Christmas. Her faith and commitment to other people is unflagging. She is literally the hands and feet of Christ in the world around her.

I am not on her level. I never will be. My faith has gone in cycles, and I'm pretty selfish when it comes down to it. But I'm trying to do better. I'm exploring my faith again. I'm trying to focus more on others than on myself. I'm trying to be more expansive, giving, and outwardly oriented. She is my model, and she always will be.