I have two boys and no girls (yet).
I was the only daughter amidst brothers.
Boys and all their rough and tumble ways are comfortable to me. No matter how many times folks on the out-and-about comment on their energy level or what a handful they must be, I only deep belly smile and feel blessed because it’s an energy I understand.
I was the daughter who lost her mother one week to the day after turning 18. I feel ill equipped to mother a daughter of my own. All I know is how easy it is to chip a daughter’s delicate heart.
Since turning mom myself I have realized the necessity of feeling carefully along the edges of my own heart for the word splinters long ignored. Parenthood has taught me how to wield a pair of tweezers with a gentle touch; I self-treat and slowly ease the words out.
I examine them as my boys might do a bit of bark or a bug that unnerves them. Reverently. Turning them over in my hands to better understand them.
How have these words stuck here for so long? How do I sanitize them?
I am sixteen and driving shotgun alongside my mom. It is the season of beauty pageants, giddy girls and tiaras. All caught up in the glory and the glitter I turn to her and declare all aglow, “When I grow up I am going to be Miss South Africa!”
She looks at me long. And then answers out of the deep well of her own insecurity, “Oh my darling, I think you are beautiful. But just not beautiful in that kind of way.”
Twenty years later and I still feel the sharp sting of that splinter. It burrowed deep until it began to feel at home under my skin.
I am seventeen and grieving. My mom has been in the hospital for a long year and our family is fraying around the edges. But on a dark blue, summer night heavy with jasmine our doorbell rings and I answer it to no one. No one but a love note and a bouquet of roses from a sixteen-year-old secret admirer.
My toes curl up in delight; goose bumps trickle down my back.
I am more than the daughter of a dying mother.
I am singled out as special by the boy every girl hopes will notice her.
I take card and flowers to my mom and offer them proud trophy of womanhood from one woman to another.
She laughs small words, “Oh it’s probably just your friends playing a joke on you.”
I shrink on the inside. My joy deflates.
But the boy is real.
Just as real as the fact that my mother is dying. His consistent selfless love outlasts my mother’s laughter. He delivers roses and joy for the next year. We do not date. But he is my lighthouse in the storm.
I am eighteen and preparing for prom. A friend’s mother takes me for practice hair and make up. I watch in the mirror as a woman emerges. My royal blue dress is waiting. I wear it, my hair and makeup to the hospice to show my mother.
I do not know what she will say.
I love her so much my insides ache. I stand at the foot of her bed and twirl. She is wearing her pink scarf wrapped around bald head and the light turquoise pajamas drape her small shrunken frame.
I wait.
And all the grief and joy and life I feel come welling out her eyes. She weeps and weeps as she looks at me – her only daughter – and she says just four words. Over and over.
“You are so beautiful. You are so beautiful.”
We both cry; my make up is ruined but my heart is restored. I feel beautiful on the inside.
And today, the memory of those words is more effective than any tweezers.
{Please click if you would like my posts by email or in a reader}
Mandy Scarr
Thank you so much for writing this. This is beautiful, and so true. I was fortunate to have a mother who didn’t leave many splinters. Now it’s my responsibility to make sure I don’t leave too many splinters in the beautiful daughters God has entrusted to my care. I need His help!
~Jennifer
How to comment? I don’t know…my heart was aching, it still is. I’m glad she saw your beauty.
by the by, this is april at aprilfolkertsma.blogspot.com. i guess i’m logged in with the wrong account right now. oops!
You are funny and sweet. Thank you for your kind words, friend. Twice!
Oh, this story is so beautiful and yet painful at the same time. I was so glad to read the end of the story. I cannot imagine the pain your heart must have felt up until then and the ache to have her approval. I am so extremely aware of the words that I speak to my daughter… aware when they build her up and painfully aware when they crush her precious spirit. The mother/daughter relationship is so complicated.
So, so complicated -it’s scary.
Oh sister…my heart hurts along with you for those little splinters. And I fear girls for the same reasons. I prayed for boys…am SO thankful for boys. When asked if I want a girl I say, “nope…my boys are just fine.”
The mother/daughter relationship can be such a deep well of emotions. I’m not sure why. But I totally relate to your heart today. Thanks for sharing it.
I’m not sure why either. But I am pretty sure that I am going to spend some time figuring it out.
Your words are so perfectly chosen. The power of what you wrote brought a little sting to my eyes. The ending is bittersweet, and your helped me start my day to sweet beginning. Thank you.
This really hits home with me. My Mom struggled with severe thyroid disease while I was growing up, and it effected her in many ways. I tried to be understanding, but her perfection was hard to attain. Clothes were never folded right, dinner could have always been improved. Splinter here, splinter there. My ideas were good, but…You know.
I’m thankful that God has brought her a long way, and I’ve been able to let go of past hurts. I’m so glad your heart was restored, you will make a beautiful mother to a daughter one day.
And remember this, right now cultivate what it is to be a wonderful mother in-law to your future daughter in-laws. My MIL raised 4 boys, and has no idea how to treat her daughter in-laws. I’m asking the same of God for myself. because I don’t want to splinter the heart of someone precious to my son one day. I know how it feels.
I love your heart, lady!
oh how words can stick with us… sooo glad you had a chance w/your mom to have the redemptive words too… what a beautiful picture that paints…i can just imagine you twirling and your mom beaming…
as I have journeyed through removing the splinters and bitter roots… this is the scripture I’ve held on to: Matt 15: 13He replied, “Every plant that my heavenly Father has not planted will be pulled up by the roots.” it gives me hope and courage to face the painful places left behind…
beautiful post friend
Oh Jenny, thank you for that verse. What a gift to read it in this context. Beautiful hope.
So achingly beautiful. Mom-daughter relationships are so unbelievably complicated. Thank you for sharing!
What an amazing gift God has given you to write – thank you for this.
My husband’s mother passed away a year ago yesterday. A few months ago we sat at the kitchen table and I listened to my 40 year old sister-in-law grieve over the things their mother had said to her… and what she had always wanted to hear her say but never will.
The power of words. Sobering. Praise the Lord that He can redeem the scars we inevitably leave.
I am so glad your mom spoke those life giving words that every girl longs to hear. Those are grace words to tuck in your heart and pull out whenever you need a reminder!
You are a beauty gypsy mama! Rare and precious to Jesus!
Lisa-Jo, your heart lays before us each day, not a jagged, rough-edged presence… but a gentle petal of sweet beauty. May grace cover the moments when my mama words fail with my treasured little men… and may grace it amplify the love when my words exhault. Thank you for you.
This frightens me. I’m a mom of two boys (10 and almost 8) . . . and a 17 month-old baby girl.
My parents are loving, but I didn’t feel Lovely. My mom is a perfectionist. And, drat, but I am too.
I want my daughter to feel loved AND lovely. I want her to be excellent but gracious. I want her to aim high, but know I love her when she will fail. Of course, I want these things for my boys as well, but I feel an added responsibility to be the model of godly woman to her and to not splinter her heart.
You have perfectly described my own fear. And the reason I want to tackle it head on.
I have no words to add to your words. They are painfully beautiful.
Some days I wish I could sit and talk and learn from you about the differences between mothering boys and girls.
You have such a gift for heart sharing.
I haven’t thought about the wounds as splinters, but attempt living in a way I leave as few as possible on My sweet sons hearts. Having gotten My splinters from My dad and uncle, i’m well aware those that lodge are likely to come from the opposite sex…*blessings*
My four year old son and I have been butting heads this week – it’s had me thinking a lot about word splinters and how careful I need to be not to leave them in his heart.
Wow, this was beautifully written and heart-rending. You’re right, our hearts are so easily bruised. Have you heard the rascal flats song, “skin”? That’s what this reminded me of, in some ways.
I haven’t. But now I plan to.
This story is hauntingly beautiful. I still have goosebumps. I wish I could comment more, but I don’t really know what to say other than Thank You for sharing these words.
I have to admit… I can’t read your post today. This is due to the fact that I know I will cry and, truth be told, I don’t have the wherewithal to cry today. So, I will tuck this away for a day when I need a good emotional outlet.
In the meantime, I have to tell you… someday if God blesses you with a daughter of your own, you will be a wonderful mother to her. I can tell this because you so easily connect with young women and are such a good friend to me. Your heart will love her in ways that you can’t even imagine and will protect her precious and delicate heart. You are indeed beautiful, both inside and out.
Um, ok so I am totally headed over to hug you today on my lunch break!! Thank you for this beautiful encouragement.
My first was a boy and when I was pregnant with my second everyone said, “It’ll be a girl.” I would laugh it off and say that I wanted all boys. It was a girl. Once I found out I bought everything in lavendar because I’m not big on pink. Today I have a pink-loving, princess-obsessed, skirt-twirling uber-girly 4-year-old daughter. I’m pregnant with #4 now and it’s our 3rd boy. In the midst of this sea of testosterone it’s me and Cora against them.
Can I just say that when I found out she was a girl I was TERRIFIED! My mom & grandma had an awful relationship. My mom & her sister had an awful relationship. My mom & I had an ok relationship. My sister & I hated each other growing up, but are better now. I KNEW I would ruin her if I had a daughter. I’d scar her, wound her and pass down my disfunction.
God, why are you giving ME a daughter?
The answer: she healed something in me. She, in her sweet, loving, tender way has opened something inside of me that was tightly shut off. I feel like an oyster: no matter how hard you pull they’re hard to open, but just add a little steam and they’ll open on their own. My daughter is the steam needed to allow me to be the girly princess I never was growing up.
Don’t be scared of it…know that God can teach us so much through our children and pray He allows you to experience that with your own daughter.
P.S. Sorry for writing a blog post in your comments.
“She healed something in me.” – Thank you for your beautiful insights, Melissa. Really. Thank you.
Melissa, I totally get what you are saying. The women in my family just tear each other apart, and I have run from them.
And then I found out I was having a girl.
And she is strong and healthy and pink. Everything must be pink and frilly! In her 3 years she has been my steam, allowing God to heal me and give me courage to parent her without resorting to the tools I learned from my mother and grandmother.
She will be new.
“She will be new” – those are some mighty powerful and beautiful words to speak over your daughter, my friend. The thought of it gives me goose bumps.
Oh my friend … once again you have made art from hurt and heartache. And from this ashes-turned-beauty, I’m reminded of a splinter I have gently removed from my own skin.
Tears fall over words uttered thoughtlessly as we stood in the kitchen, words meant to encourage and refocus but that instead left a question mark, an uncertainty about value – because when you are 15, what you look like is all you believe matters. “It’s okay that you are not pretty … you’re cute and it’s the cute girls who still look good at the reunion.” As the water boiled over on the stove that afternoon, my heart broke.
Fast forward 23 years … a long phone conversation peppered with questions about next steps and managing life, answers given from younger woman to her mother and a final comment before hanging up the phone, “You are who I always dreamed I would be … and because I am your mother, I guess I am.”
Amazing the power of mother-words. Amazing and scary. You are beautiful and brave, my friend! And I intend to tell you in person one of these days soon.
I’m sitting here with tears in my eyes cause it seems as if I’m nearly reading my own story. Even to this day my mom says words that splinter my heart, my soul. Some things going back to being 17, too difficult to for me to forgive though I know I should.
I constantly think and determine in my heart that when God blesses us with a child I will do my best not to do/say the things that came from my mom. I know I won’t be a perfect mom, but with God’s help it will be better.
Can I encourage you? Some word splinters will need to be removed by the great Healer himself. Because only He can heal, only He can acknowledge, only He can offer comfort. Because some splinters our parents will never recognize. Mine included. And that’s where grace is the only medicine that will do. Before I became a mom for the first time I spent nearly a year processing and pulling and handing over to Him some of my worst splinters. I wish you courage on the journey. It is so worth it!
Thanks so much.
What a precious story, and what a wise and beautiful woman you have become.
I’m so grateful for you, and it would be one of the luckiest little girls in the world who got you for a mama! My mom rarely used anything as subtle as a splinter, but great big chunks of wood are just as hard to get rid of! Harder maybe, because the pain is instantly realizable as such and more easily and smoothly solidified into resentment and bitterness. I have spent a lot of time over the last few years learning to let go, realizing that once splinters are there, the responsibility of removing them is mine. I’m still learning. 
It is hard work. I love to remember that Jesus was a carpenter – probably well accustomed to wood splinters. And very good at removing them, don’t you think?
Oh, Lisa Jo…stop making me cry already!
You remind me of the proverb that talks about reckless words piercing like a sword and wise words bringing healing. So true, so true.
I’m so thankful for our God who brings thorough healing through His Word…and for writers like you who point me to Him!
Get yourself over to the mainland already so I can give you a hug!!
CRYING! wow – thank you for sharing something so precious. That is beautiful – all of it. I’ve lived with, “I’m so disappointed in you” since I was in high school – I wish I could remove those words from my heart that have been the source for my lack of trying because I don’t ever want to feel that way again. I’m 33 – still hearing it.
I adore you!
Stef
I think we are all on the same learning curve, aren’t we? Thank you, friend, for your beautiful words.
Oh, but you are SO beautiful! Both inside and out! and that my friend is TRUE beauty!
I was one of those rare and lucky ones (and still am) to count my mom as a true friend. However, it was my father that wounded my heart more times that I could count. (didn’t help that he had a uncontrolled mental disorder for many years as well). You are right that only the great Healer can mend some wounds.
However, I have been fortunate to find peace and healing with my dad since having (his-grand) children. I am so sorry that your mother passed before you made the transition to adulthood, when some of these wounds would have (most likely) been healed….I do not doubt that she is looking down from heaven in approval in the manner that you are raising her grandchildren. Continue to remove the splinters, and heal…for your sake, and those sweet precious boys.
(sending a virtual hug your way!!)
Thank you for these beautiful words. They *felt* just like a hug!
My four year old just walked in and I told her, “you are SO beautiful, inside and out” and gave her hug.
Thank you for a beautiful post!
Oh my goodness – that just made me smile SO BIG!!
Love it!
Wow, reading this post is like spying a shiny springtime puddle, only to step in and discover I’m falling Alice-style into a deep, deep well. I’m sputtering and gripping the proverbial pool’s edge to avoid being swallowed up by the emotion this touches.
Ok, that was about the most beautiful metaphor someone has left in a comment!
Thank you for the affirmation…and inspiration!
I have a few of those word splinters from my mom, too. Like the time she told me like legs looked like sausages in the swimsuit I was trying on. Or the time she told me I couldn’t handle going into social work. And the time she said I wouldn’t make it in college because I was too judgmental (a sad, ironic reflection of her heart, not mine). And the day when I tried to tell her how devastated I was about a family situation, and she said, “Why? It doesn’t concern you.”
The crazy thing is – my mom loves me SO MUCH! And she has said a MILLION kind, loving things to me. I remember those, too. But those splinters? THOSE are the words that sneak up on me and hurt all over again.
And they are the words that terrify me to the bottom of my heart. When I think about the lasting impact my words – those things that just fly out of our mouths without a single thought – will have on my daughter? Scares me to death.
Oh Mary, I know just what you mean. I get positive stage fright at the thought that everything I say is being imprinted on these little beings in perpetuity…
OMG, tear jerker. Kleenex alert. This is going to stick with me for a long time. What a great share.
Michelle Cox contacted me a few years ago to contribute a short piece to an anthology entitled: Simple Little Words: What You Say Can Change a Life (collected/edited by Michelle Cox & John Perrodin).
If only you could have shared your story there, as well…it so powerfully illustrates how both negative and positive words can change a life (and how positive can overcome the negative).
Thank you for sharing it with us at HighCallingBlogs as part of the Mother’s Day project! What a privilege to update the links and point people to your post!
Thank you for your wonderful, kind words, Ann. They were such a lovely gift to unwrap in my comments today!
I’m reminded of some prickly side effects from my own parents and how I have a tendency to resort to them myself. I hope I can find enough grace and disicpline to build them up enough to outweigh any prickly barbs I blurt out. Still practicing.
We’re all still practicing, Tammy. Yup, we’re all in this together.
Oh, how I understand this post…
I know you know the mother daughter dance is not an easy one.
Your words change me.
Every time.
You are brave and you are true and you are knee-weakening beautiful, straight through.
That was beautifully written to expose your heart. Thank you for trusting us with a glimpse.
My little guy has been singing this song all week…http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CUyR4-2g68M
You are beautiful my friend!
~kristin
Oh goodness, sweet friend – thank you for this link. What great soul music. I just love her, but wasn’t too familiar with this song before!
I’ve been sitting here for quite awhile, not sure what to say, but here goes. This is heartbreaking and lovely and grace filled, all at once. I only have sons, but I still feel the sting of the splinters from my own mother. I held onto the sting and the pain for a long time, hurt and angry and bitter and sometimes wanting to hurt back. I will never understand the hurtful things that were said and done, I will never accept those hurtful words as true, but I have grown up enough to move forward and even let it go.
Everything is a lesson. Those splinters that hurt and cut so deep teach us to tread lightly. I tiptoe around my sons’ hearts, determined not to leave them with any splinters to hold onto. I never want to see that shocked, crushed look in their eyes because of something I said, a hurt that I inflicted.
Thank you, for sharing your heart and letting us open ours to share also.
Thank you for sharing your heart back – it’s what makes this community so meaningful – the exchange of battle stories and comparison of war wounds. Mothering is not for the feint of heart, any way you cut it.
I’ve just come to your blog from Holy Experience. This post is so beautiful, encouraging and sobering all at the same time. I tremble to know what word splinters I may have implanted in little ones. Mercy, Lord Jesus.
I have three boys and a little girl (she is #4). I grew up with two brothers. I never imagined I would have a girl and I never imagined the DELIGHT she would bring to all of us. She is something wholly different.
I am compelled to tell her she is beautiful all the time (she is only 4). Just yesterday I called her “beautiful girl” as we climbed the stairs.
She asked, “Why you call me beautiful?”
Because you are! You’re MY daughter!
I pray all the time for our relationship in the years to come (remembering my difficulties with my own mom, growing up).
Thank you for your life-affirming words!
I’m visiting here thanks to a link from Ann @aholyexperience. When I read the title of the post, I was almost afraid to click over and read what you had to say. I have four girls. But thank you, thank you. For the reminder of how important it is to tread lightly with my words. And not only watch what comes out of my mouth, but remember that my words also have such power to affirm and strengthen them, as well.
Four girls?! What a remarkable privilege and gift. I am so glad that you found this piece comforting rather than hard. It was meant that way. Strange thing is, I didn’t realize when I began writing it that it would have that ending. I discovered it in an old memory that hadn’t surfaced for many long years. The word splinters had festered and the word gift had gotten lost. Writing this post was like unwrapping a long forgotten present. And all the more precious for that very reason.
I am a mum to 3 girls, 6, 5 and 3. My oldest really struggled with school at first, we had to pour words of comfort, encouragement and hope into her constantly for almost a year. It was tiring, draining and at times stretched my patience, but God taught us a lot in that year. Now I can see her bloom and have learnt how important and life changing our words can be. I pray by God’s grace that he will help us to see the need, meet it and strengthen our hearts and relationships.
Oh what a treasure you have given her! A gift of a lifetime. Thank you for sharing it with us – thank you for the encouragement that those seasons of sowing and sowing and sowing still more do reap a rich harvest of rewards. Beautiful.
I, too, am teary-eyed–for the splinters I received and for those I realize all too late I am sticking in my own daughter. She is almost 11 and we clash daily because our temperaments are opposite and she is into popularity and pop-culture and I am introverted, much given to Faith, and striving to be detached from worldly ways. I connect *very well* with my sons, 13.5, almost 5 and almost 1.
Have you read Captivating by Stasi and John Eldredge? It is amazing. I will pray for healing–we are all purified through our sufferings when they are united with Christ crucified.
Peace,
Jan
With tears streaming, your graceful and painful words hit home. I so desperately wanted to please my mom, but never measured up to her expectations, and she let me know it (also out of her own insecurity). As a newlywed 16 years ago, I told her that I brought my wedding photos to work for my coworkers to see, and she asked me if they had said how pretty my sister was in them. It was a question from her that seemed to sum up her heart for me.
While I begrudged her not, I never felt I was enough. Which terrified me when I found out our firstborn would be a girl – would I pass this insecurity on to my sweet child? My mom passed away 29 days before my son was born, and my daughter was 20 months old. But our relationship swelled with love for those 20 months before she died because I have never seen someone as proud of her grandchild as she was of my daughter. It was healing – in God’s perfect way.
And I think daily of passing along that healing grace to my sweet girl (who is four now), as I strive for her to know I ADORE her.
Thank you for sharing such a sweet and painful word – and I’ll think long and hard about taking account to mend the harsh words that can escape this sinner’s tongue, so that my daughter (and son) doesn’t have to.
You made me think. Thank you.
Didn’t realize I was hijacking so much comment space until I saw it just now! Sorry! ;o)
Your words are more than welcome here! Thank you for this beautiful insight into the redemptive work of Christ in all things and through all things. Amazing the healing power of children between generations. Thank you for sharing how daughters need not inherit their mothers’ insecurity. But rather, be blessed by their lessons.
Visiting here from HolyExperience, too.
Your words were perfect. I am sharing this with my daughter, soon, and look forward to what shall come of our discussion.
deb meyers
Lisa-Jo,
Somehow I missed this post and discovered it only today. It is beautifully raw and honest. Somehow mothers wound us best and maybe don’t realise the power of their words.
I recently saw my parents for the first time in seven years. God has been doing a work of restoration in their hearts towards me. Old wounds have been bound up, forgiveness is present and new relationships are beginning. I am thankful that finally my parents are starting to see my heart, who I am on in the inside and can love me right there… it’s been an awfully long road and we have a ways to go but I think we will get there.
Thank you for sharing your heart so beautifully.
Bless you,
Stephie
Thank you for sharing this. It’s amazing how much simple words coming from your parents can really affect you. This is not exactly the same thing, but I tend to be a bit sarcastic and I’ve already purposed in my heart not to be sarcastic with my children as I know how much it affects them. (my dad was/is very sarcastic with me.)
Great post. Blessings.
Yes, I am constantly awed by the power of my own words in my childrens’ lives. It is an awesome responsibility. But with the potential for so much joy. If only I can remember to choose wisely.
I weep, because I know this story, too.
Oh, friend. I would hug you if I could.
Thanks for the virtual hug. And, thanks for stopping by my blog. I’m glad I found your place, you have a beautiful heart. –Godspeed, Elizabeth
Visiting from Holy Experience.
This is beautiful. I can’t stop crying, just picturing the scene in the hospice. I have splinters also.
Well, clearly you have struck a chord here, sister.
Your closing line reminds me of the entire message of John and Stasi Eldridge’s Captivating – the idea that deep down, all of us are seeking the answer to the question, “Am I lovely?”
Powerfully written and for those of us to whom daughters have been entrusted – an urgent reminder.
You are the second person to mention this book in the comments. I am now very curious to go and read it. And yes, the mother-daughter relationship. It is a deep well of emotion, isn’t it? I had never stopped to question my happy relief at having boys. Not until I started writing this post. And even then, I wasn’t sure how it would end. It was a surprise to me to discover that last memory. It had been hidden amidst the splinters. And coming face to face with it after all these years was an incredible gift.
Goosebumps. No time to read through the comments, so I’ll be back when I can. But I read your essay here, your heart, and it was beautiful and honest and powerful. Thank you for sharing this — it’s a story many, many women know.
Heartbreaking and lovely. . . what a gift that she was finally able to speak her heart rather than out of the place of wanting to protect you, and what a gift that you are able to believe and trust her later, truer words now. Thank you for sharing your experience. As a mommy to two little girls, I take heed!
Oh the splinters. So true. How we yearn to be beautiful, to be called beautiful…and the pain that comes from the words of those closest to us. I too am holding the flecks of wood, sorting through the pain, praying over the hurt and God is good.
Thank you for sharing this vulnerable part of you. So beautiful.
J.
ps we really should host a DC area blog get together sometime. It would be awesome to meet folks.
Motherhood is not for the feint of heart. Not the labor, not the delivery, and certainly not the parenting. Some days I think we all deserve medals! And then a kid slurpy kisses me, and it’s like I just got one
These words of yours…”Parenthood has taught me how to wield a pair of tweezers with a gentle touch; I self-treat and slowly ease the words out. I examine them as my boys might do a bit of bark or a bug that unnerves them. Reverently. Turning them over in my hands to better understand them.”…How I wish those were my words describing how I parent, instead of being quick to react. Thank you for your words that I needed…for now I know what to pray.
Oh Gwen – those are my sometimes reactions – not my always ones. How I wish I were also not too quick with my own words. I pray that prayer with you – for I need grace and patience a plenty myself in these stretching days of parenting.
Thank you for this beautiful post. My mom and I have a close relationship, but I remember being wounded by her words many, many times as a young girl. As hard as I try to keep my words gentle and encouraging with my own four daughters, I hear all too often the same sharp tone in my own voice that used to cut me to the heart when my mom used it.
So how do I change? First, I pray, because I know only God can change me. I don’t have the strength to do overcome this on my own. And I apologize. When I am aware that my words have stung, I go to my girls and ask forgiveness. It is humbling, but I believe it helps us to heal. I believe it would have made a huge difference to me if my own mother would have come to me with an apology after some of the hurtful things she said.
Yes, yes, yes – the incredible power of the apology!! Amazing how much restorative work it can do. I also work hard at the fine art of apologizing, because it does not come naturally to me.
I am teary after reading this….It’s mother’s day and I have always found it difficult to find the “right” card for my mom.
I was adopted at 3 mo. after my parents tried for 10 yrs to conceive. Shortly there after she did conceive but unfortunately this sister, daughter -to- be died in utero.
Within 4 yrs, 9 yrs. and 10 yrs I had another sister, brother and sister. I always felt strange or different and thought it was due to me not really being “hers” but what I found as my siblings and I were able to talk as adults was that, for some reason, she was and still is ill-equipped to have that connection, intimacy.
My sister uttered the words recently: “when I became a mom I decided that whatever mom did was going to be the opposite as to what I would be as a mom.When I am around mom I feel nothing but emptiness when I leave.”
My brother confided in me, “Mom should have never been a mom, she should have been a college professor.” This was said by the child most like her, also a college professor.
I am now 55 with grown children of my own now. My youngest is my baby girl, Jill who is not far from her 21st birthday. We have had our moments but she is the light in my life. I HOPE that I have not left many splinters in her as I feel my mom did with me and my siblings.
I wasn’t hugged by my parents until my wedding day and rarely since then.
I was diagnosed with Lupus and NMO/Devic’s Disease 7 yrs ago. NMO is a demyelinating autoimmune disease. I have had 3 episodes of waking up in the morning unable to move my entire left side, much like a stroke. This is followed by a hospitalization then rehab to regain movement.
My mom seems not to understand the gravity of this on me, my family and my entire life. She rarely asks about how I am doing.
I had thought that I had made peace with how she is with me, but I continue to feel those splinters from a distance by her inability to show concern or understanding.
I also have two sons who are wonderfully connected to me. Please do not be afraid to have a daughter. Most likely you will be more cognizant of how you relate to her because of what you have experienced.
I know that much of what my mom did or didn’t do has shaped who I am in some way. I know that when I had children I unconsciously did what my sister whispered to me that day: I did the opposite of what my mother would have done and intuitively gave my children what they needed from my heart. I was not at all perfect but what I have done is allow my children to know my heart and to know I was there for them. This isn’t about teaching them all the things about the world…it is sharing who you are and allowing them to know you as the human being you are. It is being a soft place to fall when things go wrong in life.
As an RN I have tried very hard to understand my mother’s lack of sensitivity, siting the pregnancy loss or her own childhood that left her lacking. I have tried only to be sensitive to her and her life without expecting anything in return, but that has been hurtful at times.
I have no idea how I got here to your blog, but I feel that it is most likely for a reason. I continue to deal with the loss of a mother I never had.
thanks for listening….
Oh girl, pass me a keener/kleenex. I have tears all over my face. I want to hug your sweet teenager self. You are so very beautiful.
God shows us in many ways things about ourselves. Your words resonated through my spirit and opened a door that was tightly closed. Your words gave life to my unspoken secrets. After reading this and realizing the splinters in my heart that I grew up with, I wrote to my daughter apologizing for the ones I took out of my heart and pierced hers with. Sometimes you need the words but you don’t have them. And God in His mercy and grace gently uncovers your wounds at the right moment from days gone by, heals them with His love and leads you to a place of asking for forgiveness from those you have splintered.
I just read this post for the first time today. My daugher turns 14 days old today…this post is something I will hold dear to my heart as we walk this journey of raising a daughter. I thank you for sharing.
Beautifully written from a deep and gentle heart. I’m the youngest of four daughters and understand completely what you have shared…different time, different place…but still I understand. I’m the mother of three wonderful adults…a son, a daughter, a son. Thank you for sharing this…
Your post touched many a nerve in my usually impenatrable exterior. I grew up with a mother that gave more “splinters” than loving words to me. My brothers however were the light in her eyes and I have tears in my eyes as I write this. Many of your mothers comments were exactly what mine also said. You are so lucky to have heard those words before she passed. I wanted nothing more than to hear my own mother say she was proud of me but it was not meant to be. She passed away 4 years ago on our wedding anniversary after a long battle with mutiple diseases. I am now 43 and this summer will mark the 33rd year that my dad has been gone. It has been a tough time and has made me a very strong person. 18 years ago, however, everthing changed when I was lucky enough to find the man of my dreams…….who was also my childhood nightmare.
Growing up a mile from nowhere our “neighbors” were few. My husband’s sister was my playmate growing up, they were the closest neighbors we had……and they were a mile away! We grew up I went to college and moved away. I came back home as I missed the farm and country living. My husband and I ran into each other one day in town and the rest is history. He, in his kind gentle ways has sanded many of those splinters down to where they are nearly un-noticeable, others have calloused over and healed. But certain times of the year like mother’s day some rear their ugly head and fester. I am very thankful that God brought my husband back into my life! I also look forward to the day I will see my parents in heaven when all wounds will be healed and forgiven by the grace of our Father.
Thank you so much for writing this, it is a HUGE comfort to me that I was not the only daughter that grew up thinking she was less than she really was. Hugs and love in Christ!
“Spliters,” what a perfect word. All my mother ever wanted, so I was told, was to be a mother, and preferably to a girl. I was the first, and the baby she had been told she couldn’t have. You’d think my girl feelings would have been Handled-With-Care, and they were in my early years. But when my sister came along, she was a sickly child. Then she developed cancer. I was in Jr and Sr. High while my mother was coping with her dying daughter. If Mom had left me alone it would have been easier. Instead I became the object of her frustration. I was an almost perfect student. I kept the house clean, didn’t do drugs or alcohol, and pretty much didn’t date unless it was a school function. I played by the rules. BUT I was told I wasn’t pretty enough or soft enough or quiet enough for any boy to want to date me. I was too fat. Actually I was normal size, but my mother was morbidly obese. As a teenager, I didn’t realize she was reflecting the fear and frustration in her life on me. Eventually my sister died. I went to college, earned my degree, and started working. As a young adult, she told me that I should see a psychologist because I wasn’t dating. Then when I met a guy and we became serious, she told me that if he put a ring on my finger I should see a psychologist. She hated the man I chose to marry, simply because he was from a different part of the country. He was professional, responsible, and loved her daughter; he made me happy. You’d think she would have been thrilled. She screamed and cried in agony when I told her we were engaged. In my wedding pictures she looks like she was attending a funeral. At least weekly she called me to bad mouth my husband. I had to stop taking her calls. When we were expecting our first child, after 4 years of infertility, she was disappointed it was a boy. Then, my husband took a job out of state and we moved right before the baby was born. That job allowed me to stay home and raise my son. My mother demanded to know “Why are you doing this to me?” My last visit with her was horrible. She was very ill and angry at the world, and, as usual, she took it out on me. Less than a year later, and 3 days before my second son was born…she died. Two years later I found out I was having a girl. I was TERRIFIED. I didn’t want to make the same mistakes my mother did. I am a girl, but I didn’t know how to raise one! Two and a half years later, I can tell you only one thing. I will not have the same relationship my daughter that my mother had with me. I am a different kind of mother, and she is a different person as a daughter than I was. I have the chance to make things right, and I remind myself of that everyday. Every day that my daughter climbs in my lap and says “Read book please.” Every night that she wraps her arms around me, breathes in my scent, and sighs.
In a another blog you mentioned that you are the person you are partly because of your mother’s abscence. Oh how true that is! You are so blessed to have had the closure and acceptance from your mother before she died. Whether you eventually have a daughter(s) or are blessed with DIL, you too will make a wonderful mother or MIL for a very special girl.
You ARE so beautiful.
I understand completely & I’m happy for you that your mother really loved you & you were able to hear those four words. My experience wasn’t as good- nowhere near as much grace in the words I heard…over & over.
Thank goodness for a God who finds ways & people to Speak into our lives & hearts…I am very conscious of instilling in my GIRL(1 out of 5 children), that she is BEAUTIFUL, inside & out!
I loved as much as you will receive carried out right here. The sketch is attractive, your authored material stylish. nonetheless, you command get bought an nervousness over that you wish be delivering the following. unwell unquestionably come more formerly again as exactly the same nearly a lot often inside case you shield this increase.
When I was reading a more recent post, I linked back to this one and I am sure it was meant for me to read it. I think all of us desire to be beautiful. And most of us have been, at some point or another, if not all of our lives, afraid that we aren’t. To me, your story expresses the very truth of the beauty that God has given each of us – unique to each person. And you said it so perfectly – “I FEEL beautiful on the inside.” To me, our desire to be beautiful is really a desire to FEEL beautiful and then inevitably we ARE beautiful. Thank you for sharing this story. It is encouraging and inspiring. Jolie
Can I just say what a relief to find a person that really understands what they
are discussing on the web. You actually realize how to bring an issue to light and
make it important. More and more people must look at this and understand this side of the story.
I can’t believe you are not more popular given that you certainly possess the gift.