June, 1992

Dear Jamie and Justin,

Daddy and I hoped that during our 40 years we had learned enough to guide you youngsters through this great adventure of LIFE.  But nothing prepared me for a child who would say, “You love her more than me,”  “I hate you!”  “I’m leaving.  I hate it here.”  I haven’t found a book that tells me what to do when my child writes a list:

“Things I’ve Lost:
Diary Key
Earrings
Money…
…My Life”

We have talked a lot in these past years about love, family, and life.  Most of the time, though, I feel like I’m “just your mom.”  Moms are supposed to talk to their kids, you know, lecture them, interfere, take sides, and more or less, get in the way.  I know you love me.  But let’s be real.  What can I know about your life, your problems?  It was different when I was a kid.  I just don’t understand.  Besides, I’m just your mom.  Moms are paid to talk like they know it all.

Well, when I haven’t been trying to interfere and straighten you out, I have been busy trying to straighten myself out.  At 40 years old, how do I find a truth so powerful that it will teach me how to be a mom you will want to listen to?

You can’t imagine my excitement as I have discovered and read many books filled with wisdom and help for happiness in life.  They have helped me make decisions, decide how to face problems, how to deal with people who were hurting me, how to decide what to do with my life.  I couldn’t wait to share these books with you, read them aloud, talk as a family about their ideas.  Here were people who care about me, about you, people who have great ideas.  Best of all, they’re not your mom.  They’re not paid to tell you how to live your life.  They’re not “just saying this” so that you will smile at the dinner table or clean your room without complaining.

There is a problem, though.  So far, I count six books that I’ve read and three hundred pages per book.  There are linquistic challenges that I must read ten times over just to understand:

“For instance, there was (and still is) a distinction between political feminists” (who have an impulse toward economic actions or analyses and coalitions with the nonfeminist Left) and “cultural feminists,”…^[1]

The bookstore has no “translations for the young adult.”  All of this wisdom is locked inside books written to adults.

Today, flying in a plane through the clouds (where else would such a lofty idea sprout?) I decided to try to put their words and ideas down on paper so that you would find them easy to read.  No, this isn’t really just mom doing some more preaching.  True, I get to pick and choose.  But I’ve read six books, 1,800 pages.  There should be some reward for all of that.  To prove my point, that these ideas come from real people–impartial people–who don’t know how many dirty socks are thrown around your room–I give their names and the books they wrote.  You can believe me, believe that I’m not making this all up by myself … or you can read all six books.  Check me out.  Someday I hope you will.  These people write with so much power and feeling.  They have so much experience to teach us.  They are worth reading, in order  to gain every bit of wisdom, just like licking away the last drop of a chocolate shake.

But for today, for a start, for a small piece of truth to carry through junior high, through high school and college, I hope you will accept their words of love and caring passed through my pen, with hope and love.

Your Mom

*******************************

 THE GIFT

 This is a very special gift that you can never see.

The reason it’s so special is it’s just for you from me.

Whenever you are lonely or even feeling blue,

You only have to hold this gift and know I think of you.

You can never unwrap it.  Please leave the ribbon tied.

Just hold the box close to your heart.  It’s filled with love inside.

–Unknown

 

This poem is usually given to a person along with a wrapped gift box that is to be held unopened forever.  Although you are invited to open this book, and although this book reveals many of my personal thoughts and experiences to you, the love contained in this project and in my heart for you is more than you can ever know.

You can read Mom’s little book to know my mind.  But, to know my heart, you must close your eyes, say this poem to yourself and let the cares of the world fade away.  I love you!