Just The Way Mothers Are

My father is many things, but the one thing he is not is a phone person. He can write a beautiful letter, or thoughtful card and I have held on to the ones he has given me through the years. He will be happy to engage in conversation in person while choosing his words wisely and with care while sitting across from you at a coffee shop...but he is not a phone person. This isn't a complaint, nor would I deem it a negative trait that I have noticed...it is just an observation. A truth about who he is, which I have come to accept.

In the 5 years that I lived away from my family I kept in touch mostly through my frequent conversations over the phone with my mother. It was in those conversations that the details of my life and the lives of my parents would be shared...and everyone would be kept "in the loop". My dad and I would chat briefly every 2-4 weeks for roughly 10 minutes. Each time he would ask if I was happy, and make sure that at the end of the ten minutes, right before he said the words "I'm done" in a matter-of-fact kind of way, that he loved me, and was praying for me. And then he would pass the phone off to my mother. Even though our conversations were brief and relatively infrequent, I never doubted his love or care. This was our routine. In fact, this was our routine for 5 years...with one exception - when mom went out of town.

I remember it pretty clearly, mom had gone on an excursion to England for about 2 weeks, leaving dad home alone, and me in Calgary without my daily phone call. I called one evening to say hello to my dad, and in that conversation a small miracle happened: my dad and I held a 27 minute phone conversation. I remember this because he pointed it out to me nearing the end of our conversation after looking at the screen on the phone detailing the length of call. We were both impressed, with ourselves and eachother. And suddenly realized that a new door had been opened - father and daughter could have long conversations on the phone together. Later that evening I was wondering why or how we had found ourselves in an extended conversation with eachother, and then realized that in the absence of my mother keeping us informed of what was going on, or listening to what was going on we were left with a void. Turned out that evening we were able to step in to that void for eachother, and listen and share with the other person.

It's quite a few years from that 27 minute conversation...and my father and I have had many more conversations of a similar length over the phone, each time still celebrating their length before he signs of with his "I'm done." And even though I now live in the same city as my family again, I still frequently talk with my mom, and we still share the events of our day with one another. My parents have been out of town this week, so I am finding myself at a loss for someone to listen to the slightly insignificant and tedious parts of my day - the stuff that my mom usually listens to. Without my mom, I have noticed, I am finding myself unusually chatty about insignificant details of my day with other people in my life, and fear that they think there might be something wrong with me. Whereas, my mother would know this is just who I am, how I go about my day, and for some strangely glorious and comforting reason enjoys hearing about it.

There's a book I used to read when I was a child. It was called "That's Just The Way Mothers Are". In it, the child in the story repeatedly messes things up, gets in trouble, or does silly things, but every time the mother is there loving him and supporting him because "that's just the way mothers are". The conversations shared between me and my mom are more than just opportunities to share my day, they are precious spaces held between myself and her where she still makes her daughter of 28 years feel valued, loved and important. Where the words "I'm proud of you" come with such weight and importance that simple decisions are elevated, and a sense of self-worth is imparted. It is a space that brings the lives of every member of our family together...it is a space held by the love of a mother...because that's just the way mothers are. And I am SO thankful for the way my mother is.