To Moms I know: An open letter on Mother's Day

"I could spend a lot of days at uncle dregger's house and going to Zion and swimming in the pool but eventually I would miss mommy and want to come home." -Mathis

Mathis told me that as we were driving back from St George at the end of what could only be described as a three day 'Peter Pan in Neverland' style weekend that involved seventy two straight hours of backyard BBQs, swimming pools, movies and popcorn till the wee hours of the morning, donuts for breakfast and hiking in Zion National Park.  In short, an eleven year old boy's dream vacation.  The fact that we would be returning home to an empty house and Jennifer in Canada for another week after our arrival was obviously weighing on his mind.  I could totally relate, sometimes you just want to go home and when you get there, more than anything, you want to find your mom.  

I'm sure that week for Mathis was torture and the reason I'm sure of this is because I got a daily update from him, a regular peak at his growing emotional imbalance:  "Six more days of life without mommy."  "Five more days till mommy gets home."  "My good thing is, mommy will be here in four more days."  "Just think, in three more days... "  And so it went.  And again I could relate.  Sometimes a kid (of any age) just needs his mom.  My personal running total of days without my mom would require a calculator and frankly I'm not inclined to do that sad math, it's sufficient to say that I have lived longer without her in my life than with her in it.  That's a somber statistic on any day but especially today.   It does however give me cause to reflect on who my mom was and the effect she had on my life and the person I became.  

I remember she was interested, she wanted to be a part of our lives to know what we were doing, when how and why we were doing it, both to keep us out of trouble and to stay connected with us.  As a teen-ager I resented it and later, when it was no longer there, I missed it.  Little things meant a lot to my mom.  She was sentimental in the way moms are. She kept the cards we made in primary and the poems we wrote in elementary school.  I remember the easiest way to make her day was just to give her a big hug.  Again, the older I got, the more reluctant a participant I was.

Jo Ann Ivie Larsen October 30, 1943 - February 16, 1988

But as I look back on the impact she had on me, I can say just about without exception that every unwise act I've performed, every bad decision I've made, every thoughtless or insensitive word I've spoken were all things I knew better than to do, say or make and the reason I knew better was because I had a good mom.  And she was that, a good mom.  Now as I think about it, that may be the best compliment I could give anybody.  I used to reserve 'you're a poet and a scholar' as my highest praise for anybody (Jon, you're a poet and a scholar... no, really, you are.) but 'you're a good mom' surpasses it in every conceivable way. The Irish philosopher Edmund Burke stated that "All that is necessary for evil to triumph is for good men to do nothing."  Setting aside for a moment the fact that this statement disregards the existence of half of humanity, it also dismisses the fact that without good moms there are no good men (or good women).  It all begins and hinges on the influence of good moms.  And while the time I had with my own good mom was far too short, my life has been and is full of good moms who continue to inspire me.  And so in gratitude I wanted to take a moment today to let those good moms in my life know how much they have meant and mean to me.

To Carolyn and Elenor.  




There have been so many big, beautiful and important moments in my life that my mom missed: wedding days, graduations, birth of grand kids, blessings and baptisms.  You've been there for all of it.  And though I know my mom would have gladly given up that part of eternity to be there herself, I also know she would be comforted in the knowledge that I wasn't there alone, that there was somebody to stand there with me and she would be grateful for you.  



Because she can't say it herself, I'll say it for her.  Thank you.  Thank you for the big life changing moments as well the small celebrations and for doing the little things moms and grandmas know how to do. 

Thank you for sewing Christmas stockings and thank you for the cards for my kids, not just on birthdays and major holidays but on the small ones too.  






Thank you for making the effort to keep my mother's memory and legacy alive by finishing the quilt she started 




and for insisting that Jennifer needed to go to whatever lengths necessary to restore her rocking chair.  




Thank you for being there in her place but not trying to replace her. 

Through  more more than twenty years of surrogacy you've earned the right to rid yourselves of the cold and dismissive pre-fixes and suffixes of 'step' and 'in-law' that sully the hard won title of mother. You've just been moms, good ones and even better grand-moms.

To my sister-in-law Erin whose life map, to put it delicately, featured more than one unexpected off ramp and detour. But through it all she has kept her faith, her sanity and in the process surely taught her daughters many lessons about finding inner strength when life doesn't turn out as you thought it would. Also, that perseverance and independence aren't just admirable character strengths but necessary qualities that every mom and every woman needs    Erin, you're a resilient woman and a good mom.

To my sister-in-law Linda, whom I met the same day Nigel did and have had the pleasure of observing first hand the refining effect she has had on my younger brother. Linda began the renaissance of musical talent in the Larsen families (a legacy from my grandpa Ivie that managed to leapfrog our generation) by raising two phenomenally talented daughters.  She also raised a son who manages to fully express the semi-recessive sensitivity* gene he received from his father.  Linda you are the music, art and culture that Nigel's life would otherwise lack.  And you're a good mom.  

* I'm allowed to give Nigel a hard time because I love him.  In freshman English at BYU I was asked to write an essay about my hero and I wrote without irony or sarcasm about Nigel.  Nigel is wicked smart, generous, kind, athletic, mechanically inclined, easy-going and occasionally (as Linda will attest) somewhat emotionally unavailable.  But other than that one flaw?  He really is a mensch and somebody you want to know.  But this post is for Mother's Day, not Nigel's Day, not that there is a Nigel's Day but maybe there should be?  I mean there are days for everything.  There's actually a National Insurance Agent Day (yep, June 28th if you were curious, still plenty of time to something nice if you're of a mind) so why not a Nigel Day?  I should look into that...  but I digress, it's what I do.

To my sister-in-law Lisa, whose struggles and eventual success at having children reminded us all what a rare blessing and sacred trust it is to be a parent.  Lisa, you are the perfect bookend to my youngest brother dregger.  There is no uncle dregger without aunt Lisa and no aunt Lisa without uncle dregger.  You have a dog and a pool and a movie theater in your house and because of all those things my kids will always think you are the coolest aunt (ever).  But that all pales when compared to the fact that you are a good mom.

To my sister-in-law Joanne who was given the white elephant-like burden of truly gifted children and all that that requires and entails.  Fortunately she was also blessed with the inspired vision and sharp mind of a NASA scientist coupled with a faith strong enough to move mountains, or perhaps more impressive and improbable, her family, to Utah... twice!  We all feel so very blessed and lucky to have you near even while knowing that luck had nothing to do with it.  

Joanne, your soft features and willowy frame are the cleverest kind of ruse.  You are, in reality, as solid as the Canadian Shield.  And you're a good mom.

To my sister-in-law Evelyn, whose journey to motherhood forced her to cross two huge cultural and language barriers:  Canadian and Rollins.  Only she can tell you which one was more challenging.  She's about to send her oldest son, Matthew on a mission while at the same time finishing a degree (graduate degree?) in Food Science & Nutrition.  I took that class as an undergraduate and struggled, mightily.  I can't even imagine doing it in a non-native tongue. 

Evelyn you are as intrepid as Jean d' Arc and as dedicated as madame Curie and you're a good mom.

To my sister-in-law Sharlene who could teach Job lessons in patience and optimism.  Sharlene, your bright disposition and ability to make molehills out of the mountains that would crush most people are a blessing and a gift to your family. You sing with the voice of an angel and I wish you lived closer so I could hear it more often.  And you're a good mom.

To my sister-in-law Brianna who left her family and the predictably warm sunshine of her desert home in St George, Utah for the decidedly chillier northern climes of Ottawa, Ontario and agreed to raise her kids Canadian* (cause that's generally what happens when you marry a Canadian).  Brianna you're the best thing that's happened to Nathan in the twenty years that I've known him.  You're a selfless and dedicated wife, a courageous woman and a good mom.

*I have one, possibly two half Canadian children that may be joining their newly minted Canadian cousins.  So Jac, Ella and (?) will be in good company.

                                 

To neighbour moms like Liz Phillipps with 5 kids (and now a puppy [!]) and more chaos in her life than any two moms I know but who still manages to be more upbeat and positive than any person I've met.  Ever.  Liz you are such an important person in the lives of so many people. You give and you give and you give.  You make me happy and you make me smile every time I'm around you.  And you're a good mom.                                                                                                                                           

To Facebook Friend moms like Shauna Jones,  whose blog posts and social media updates as the mother of a cancer survivor as well as her own struggles, trials and eventual triumphs, (always triumphs and triumphs come in various iterations and are often based on perspective, I've learned this from Shauna) with myriad family health problems along with her DIY home improvement projects and runner's notes from the road are a bright spot in my day.  If we ever put in that deck Jenn is always asking for, I will hold the toolbox while you and Jennifer do the detail work.  If I ever run another marathon it will be because you inspired Jennifer who in turn inspired me.  Shauna, you're a strong, strong woman and you share that strength with more people and in more ways than you probably realize.  And you're a good mom.

To mom's like Carol Vincent, who with her instant sunshine smile and outgoing personality just reminds me so much of my own mom.  On a cold Sunday afternoon last winter she gave one of those hugs that only moms can give, the kind that make you feel loved from your ears to your toes and leaves your heart smiling.  

A mom hug is the most precious of gifts.  I hope my children all learn that and never forget it, even when they become the surly, 'too cool for public displays of affection' teen-agers that I once was.   

Carol, I miss you already and wish you didn't have to move. You are a good neighbour, a good friend and most of all a good mom.

To moms like Marsha Jentzsch  whose love is so large it would never fit in just one family, so there are dozens of children who think of her as 'mom'.  Marsha, there's a warmth and tenderness that comes with your big heart.  It pours out of you and touches everyone you know.  I feel it every time I'm around you. 

You're a good mom

To single moms I know.  Like Shannon Karchner.  They say a mother's day never ends, so what does that mean if you are doing the work of two people?  It means you are Awesome (yes I said it and with a capital 'A') because I stand in awe of you and all you accomplish.   On rare occasions I have been you, albeit for only a week or so at a time. But oh, how those weeks stretched out and forced me to contemplate the Sisyphean struggle you face, day in and day out.   It makes me want to weep for you.  





OK, I might have cried a little the last time Jenn left, but that was only because Mathis and nathan cried first.  

If the voyage to our eternal reward in the afterlife is anything like a Transatlantic flight, you have a seat reserved for you in Business Class while the rest of us fly coach. And I will not complain a bit because you are all Good Moms!*

*Yep, Awesome and an exclamation point.

To my wife Jennifer who after twenty two years of marriage still teaches me lessons in compassion:


"What I like best about mommy is she gives second chances." -Mathis 

 "I like that about mommy too." -Elaine

and how she can within moments of arriving home, sense the tone of our family and intuit which of our kids needs to talk to her, even when I've been home (and largely oblivious) for hours.  

How she doesn't begrudge the little jigs of happiness the boys used to do when I would arrive home from work, or the way they treat a trip to the gas station with me or a half hour playing catch in the yard as the highlight of their week but rather points out to me that just because I'm a dad doesn't mean I don't nurture and that these are some of the ways that I do.

Or the way she knows how to truly listen and how that activity occasionally, but doesn't necessarily always, involve your ears.  



She's the kind of good mom that can hold a family together. Lots of good moms like her can hold the world together

Jennifer I love you.  You are wonderful to me, for so many reasons, but the kids love you because you're a good mom.

 

There is no mythical Greek God Atlas supporting the Earth on His shoulders and assuring that our planet holds its place in the cosmos.  There are only good moms doing the everyday things that good moms do. It should come as no surprise to anybody that knows a good mom that that's enough.  






So to all of the good moms I know and to those good moms I haven't yet met, for all you've done and all you do, for your strength and your tenderness, for your courage, and your compassion, for your resilience and your patience, for your selflessness and unheralded sacrifices, for the hugs, the songs, the art and all the other things you do that keep the world spinning on its axis and make life bearable, you have my respect, my gratitude and my love. Setting aside a single day to recognize you seems wholly inadequate but that begs the question what would be enough? A week?  A month?  A year?   It would take a lifetime to truly show our love and appreciation.  

I believe that's exactly as it should be.

Happy Day to moms everywhere,

-S