Your Mom ALWAYS Knows

I am 24-years-old and have a wonderful, healthy, relationship with my mother. I love my mom. She's the person I go to when I need to think through a problem, and when I want to talk to someone about my day. Perhaps like many young adults, I am continuing to develop my open communication with my mother. It's gotten better over the years, but I am guilty of not responding to texts and not updating my mom, when I probably should have.

But the lesson to always let my mom know I'm safe is something that was driven home for me almost ten years ago. Because if you don't tell your mom, she will find out some other way about the almost dangerous situation you were in. I promise. I present to you exhibit A.

Once upon a time...

I was a fifteen-year-old girl volunteering with a ministry group at a music festival. The festival took place at a theme park resort. I was part of a group of teens who were responsible for the ministry's mascot. (Yes, they had one of those.) Since I wasn't tall enough to get inside the suit, I was a handler. I preferred the term bodyguard. I guided whoever was in the suit and made sure he stayed safe. Frontal hugs from young children could prove dangerous, because the mascot's visual perception of children disappears when they get that close.

Other than one minor incident, where a music artist handed over her three-month-old baby to the mascot to take a picture, the week had been going great. The baby was fine, but that shot did make me nervous. Don't hand your baby over to someone wearing a costume. Just don't. Everyone will feel better. Anyway.

Our team had been commuting each day to the music festival. It was an extensive drive. Everyone from the team would meet up in the morning at the ministry's headquarters. This alone was a half-hour drive from my house, with another two-hour drive to the festival tacked on. Now that I think about it, my mom was a champ to get me there at 7 am each morning for 4 days straight. We don't deserve our parents.

The group I was part of wasn't the only leg of the ministry at the festival. Altogether, there were two vehicles that drove over each day: a bus and a ten-person passenger van. My group would ride over in the van, carrying supplies for the ministry, like muffins for the volunteers.

When we weren't doing mascot stuff, I and the other teens were free to wander around the park, ride rides, etc. It was a sweet gig. Aside from dealing with the teen insecurity of fitting in, I'd been having a fun week.

It all went downhill when...

It was on our second to last day that things went wrong. First, there was a phone call.

I looked at my phone and noticed five new messages from Shannon (all names have been changed to protect the innocent) and an incoming call.

"Hey, Shannon. What's up? I asked. Shannon was one of the designated adults in charge of the teens. She'd been helping with the driving and the mascot schedule.

"Hey, girl. Where are you guys?" Shannon asked, her tone abrupt but not rude.

"We're over by the Ferris wheel. Ali and Dave are both in the restroom. We were going to head over to you guys in a few," I explained.

"Okay. I need you to get them, and you all need to head over here now." Again, she wasn't panicking or anything, but her tone was firm.

"Okay. I'll get them. What's going on?" I asked, my pulse quickening.

"I'll explain when you get here. But it wouldn't hurt for you to run a little bit," Shannon told me.

"Right. We'll be there soon."

I closed my phone. Yes, it was a flip phone. Don't judge me. I relayed the message to Ali and Dave. We started off at a jog to where our team met up at the end of each night.

My heart rate quickened as I was hit with the adrenaline rush. I needed to get to the van. Shannon was counting on me.

We got to the van, and once all the teens from our group were present, Shannon gave us the recap. "The ministry's bus was in an accident. We think the driver of the other vehicle was hurt. We need to go to the crash site and pick up some equipment that was in the bus," she explained.

There was a pause, a moment of uncertainty, where you know the best thing is to be quiet, wait, and not panic. Shannon wasn't going to get any arguments from me.

We all piled into the van and reached the crash site, which was only a short drive from the theme park. I was solemn for a moment, when I saw the police cars, the bus, and the other vehicle, which did look pretty beaten up. Shannon pulled over to the side of the road, a fair distance from the bus but still within walking distance.

"You guys all wait here. I'll be back," Shannon said.

We all murmured agreement. I was quiet, but honestly, the events that had taken place were so disconnected from me that I wasn't overly concerned. We would get the stuff and be on our way. Everything else was out of my hands and didn't really impact me. Writing that out right now makes me realize how self-absorbed I was during my teenage years.

I realized that this might throw the time table off of when my mom would pick me up. But I figured it wouldn't be by much. We were normally scheduled to leave the park about an hour from now. I knew I would need to text her an estimated arrival if it ended up being excessively earlier than normal. At this point, I didn't know how long collecting supplies from the bus would take. I decided to wait to text her until we were on the way back. Then I would know something real. Besides, I reasoned, my mom didn't know about any of this, and she didn't need to know right now.

It was a warm summer day, and the sun was starting to sink in the sky. We opened the door to the van to let in a breeze. I sat there, waiting.

And then my phone vibrated.

I opened it. Stop judging my flip phone. It was a text from my mom.

Are you okay? it read.

I'm fine, I texted back. Why?

You weren't in the accident were you?

No. How did you know about that? I asked.

Where are you right now?

I cringed, realizing how bad it would sound if I texted her that I was actually at the crash site.

I called instead. "Hi, Mom. No, my group wasn't in the accident. It was the bus that crashed. We're at the crash site right now, because Shannon said we needed to pick up some supplies from the bus. I'm fine."

My mom sounded relieved, but she maintained a levelness as she asked about what time I thought we would be back.

Looking back, I realize how worried my mom must have been if she had thought I was in the vehicle that had crashed. And it does leave me with a new respect for how calm my mom manages to act, even when I know she's really worried. She's taken my travels abroad particularly well.

But at the moment, I wanted to know how she knew about the accident. "How did you know about it?" I asked.

"Jacob and Martha Smith are both on the board for the ministry," my mom explained. "They were called right after the accident happened, and then they called me asking if you were in the crash, and I said I had no idea. Had me worried."

"Got it. No. No. It was the bus. I'm fine, okay?" I reassured her.

I agreed to let her know our arrival time once I knew something and closed my phone. Always let your mom know, I reminded myself. Never going to forget that one.

We ended up not being able to take the supplies for legal reasons, so we drove out of there. Shannon took us to McDonalds, which made everyone feel better. I got home without incident, but the personal lesson of the day didn't leave me.

I like to think that day was when I started making a better conscious effort to communicate with my mom. Now I'm adult living on own, so letting her know what time I'll be home isn't really an issue. But I still call her. I still text her to let her know I'm okay. And I think she likes it. I know that I feel better after I text my mom.

Now, maybe your mom really does just want roses and chocolate for Mother's day this year. Maybe she wants you to take her out to dinner. But a good thing grown adults can do is be honest with their parents. If your mom is still living, tell her about what's going on in your life. Let her know that you respect and value her opinion. Tell her you love her.

And seriously, if a dangerous thing happens in your vicinity, just text her. Let her know you're okay. Because if you don't tell her, someone else will. Moms are basically superheroes. They see everything.

And to my own wonderful mother: I love you, and I'm okay. Thanks for being my mom.