A Mother's Words

Still stuck on the mothering thing.
This time, it’s a memory from my childhood, and it has me looking at motherhood from the other side.

I remember when I was about ten and at Mass with my family. I was wearing a jersey knit outfit consisting of navy blue bell-bottom trousers and a sleeveless navy and white stripped shirt. On my feet I wore white sandals, on my head, a plaid, Mr. Toad type motor cap. My dark hair was cropped short, into a pixie cut. I felt too fine for words.

I have no idea what the readings were nor do I recall the sermon. What I do remember is the Communion hymn – Lord of the Dance.

Dance, dance, wherever you may be.
I am the lord of the dance said he
And I’ll lead you all wherever you may be
And I’ll lead you all in the dance said he.

I LOVED THAT SONG! I sang it with all my heart and soul. I felt God smiling down at me and I reveled in the Light.

My mother didn’t love the song.
My mother didn’t sing with me.
My mother didn’t see the light.

I don’t know what she saw.
I do know what she said.

She peered down at me from behind her hymn book, scrunched her eyes, wrinkled her forehead and, in her best church whisper she hissed, “What are you doing?!”

Looking up at her, the air around me suddenly felt too heavy and I wondered if I could continue to stand.
I knew I must.
But I couldn’t hear the music anymore. So, I stopped singing and, like my mother, began to mouth the words.

I am 45 years old, and the sting I felt on that Spring Sunday still smarts.
I’m sure that my mother no longer recalls that day. I’m pretty sure that she forgot that moment the second she turned her attention back to her hymnbook.
To her, it was a casual comment.
To me, it was a crushing blow.

I never sang at Mass again. Ever.

The power of words is amazing and can only be matched by the power of a mother.
I like to think that I have been able to use that power wisely with my children.
Sweetly sad upturned faces and my too late apologies tell me that I may have failed.