Shambles

“You are so much like your Mama.” This is a phrase that would send me into a tailspin when I was growing up. At the time, I didn’t see it as a compliment. I associated my mom with Christianity that resulted in strict rules, firm opinions, and standards that I could not meet. I saw my mom as unbending and unfair. 

In my memory, she wasn’t always that way. Until 12 years old, I had a very normal childhood with a mom who was fair, kind, and listened to me. She and my dad parented in such a way that I and my brother were involved. We had a voice and a safe space to express how we felt about rules, discipline, etc. 

All of that changed when my mom felt called to the mission field. She and my dad came back from a Christian conference, and my whole life changed. She told us that she heard God speak to her, and that our family was being called to be missionaries. At the time, she felt like we were being called to Iraq, but in the end we landed in Thailand. 

When we moved to Texas for my parents to go to the missionary training school, the parenting that I knew through age 12 did a complete 180. We were being parented the way that the church, that hosted the training school, said that we should be parented. Away went the listening, away went our voices, and in came the long scripture readings and prayers. When I did something wrong, I had to read from the Bible, repent for my sins, ask for forgiveness, AND THEN I would lose a privilege, such as TV or going to a friend’s house. Intention no longer mattered, my feelings were pushed aside, and the Bible remained.

Unfortunately, this is how I would think of my mom when people said, “You are so much like your mama.” I didn’t want to be strict, unbending, or hell-bent on following God to the detriment of my family. Being a teenager, I didn’t understand my mom or the reasons why she did the things she did. I didn’t understand that she was doing what she thought was right, and she was human too. As a teenager, you don’t know how life works, and your view of the world is limited to your small bubble.  

As I work through past hurts, and unravel the happenings of my childhood, I see my mom in a bit of a different light. My mom loved me and loved the Lord. She had her own past, in which she wished she had a close relationship with God. Her regrets formed her desire, as a parent, to make sure her kids had what she didn’t. She wanted us to know who we are, have a firm foundation in Christ, and live our lives in sync with him. Did she get sucked into a church’s parenting rhetoric that was damaging? Yes. Was it her intention to strain her relationship with her daughter by using such rhetoric? No. She was doing the best with what she was being taught. 

My mom was strong, she knew who she was, and she accomplished what she set her mind to. If I remember my mom that way, I AM like her. She taught me not to base my identity in the approval of others. She taught me to be kind, and love others,  but to set boundaries so that I don’t lose myself. I am learning that I am so much like my Mama and that’s okay.