Happy First Tuesday in March, my Friend!
When I was a kid, I loved to play dress-up. My mom gave me a box full of castoffs that became my treasure trove. She had an assortment of little hats, gloves, shoes, purses, and skirts that my friend Linda and I rocked when she came to play. My mom also had one of those weird mink stoles that had all the little critters linked together, complete with heads and tails! Remember those things? I don’t think I was supposed to play with that, but sometimes, if the occasion warranted . . .
When Linda and I were sophomores in high school, she and I were the only ones in our German class. We’d both taken German since the 5th grade, and six years later, our class had diminished to two. We didn’t mind. Our teacher gave us several dialogues to learn and recite. One time, we decided to crank it up a notch and dress up for our recitation. That old dress-up box still held great fodder for our costume needs. However, I don’t think the mink stole made an appearance.
After Linda and I presented Frau Coleman with our bedazzling German conversation, complete with wardrobing, our teacher thought it was so wonderful she took us to a few classrooms to “show us off.” Now, I grew up in a very small town and went to a small school. Our elementary and high schools were next to each other, with a shared gymnasium. You could easily walk from the grade school to the high school. My mom was the secretary in the office at the elementary school. Mrs. Coleman wanted to take us to one of the younger kids’ classrooms, so we walked past the principal’s office—smack dab past my mom.
Let me pause momentarily to tell you that my mom was frequently embarrassed by things I’d do. It meant a lot to her what people thought of her and her family, and when she saw her daughter walking down the hall dressed in old dress-up clothes, her first response wasn’t, “Oh, how cute! Look at my daughter!” It was more like sheer mortification.
Oh, that’s not the only time I dressed weirdly for some reason. I loved getting a laugh, and dressing up funny was one way to get them. (It’s not a good way to get a prom date, though, I’d soon discover.) It caused my poor mother more embarrassment as she’d ask, “What will people think?”
So, now fast forward a lot of years. When my mom was in her 80s, she’d come down and spend some of the winter in Florida with us, escaping the cold Wisconsin temps. She loved to sit outside and tilt her face up to the sun. We had a lot of fun together, and I don’t think I once embarrassed her with odd clothing choices.
Until one day.
One day, my church was having a fundraiser for its Children’s Ministry at the local Barnes and Noble. We had secured a time slot on a Saturday to put on a little “show” in the children’s section. We had our kids’ choirs sing. There were soloists and keyboard players. One young girl did a magic act. It was a lot of fun. We chose an animal theme, and many songs centered around “God’s creatures.” This event happened while my mom was in town, and she was able to attend. I knew she would enjoy seeing all the kids and listening to the music. I had to be there early to help set up, but a friend was kind enough to drive her to the store. Somehow, I was designated as the emcee for the show, and since it was animal-themed, and I just happened to have a particular costume in my closet . . .
I dressed up like a cow.
Yes, complete with udders and a headpiece with horns. I felt a little awkward with my udders out there for all the world to see, so I donned an apron to cover up my unmentionables. (Even though I just mentioned them.) The first thing I thought of as I saw my elderly mother walking into the store with her walker was, “Oh no, here I go again. Embarrassing my mom by dressing like a cow in a public place.” My friend led my mom over to a chair I’d saved for her, and she sat like the Queen of England for our show.
Exiting the store when it was all over, we walked silently out to my car. I helped her into her seat, trying to keep my udders intact and not hit my horns on the car’s roof. Mind you, I’m upwards of 40something, maybe even 50 years old at this point, but come on, your mom is still your mom and can still put you in your place! I got into my seat and started the engine. I asked her if she enjoyed the show, and she said she had. Then she said something I was totally not expecting.
She told me she was proud of me.
In fact, I believe she said she was so proud of me. Wait a minute, what? You’re not completely ashamed that your daughter was dressed as a bovid mammal in a crowded store?
You see, when I was growing up, she wasn’t prone to giving a lot of words of affirmation. It just wasn’t her way. I knew she loved me, but she wasn’t a big lavisher of loving words. It just so happened that my dad was more of the love-lavisher, and she was more of the disciplinarian. It’s just the way it was in our family. I think the first time I heard, “I’m so proud of you,” might have been when I was wearing that ridiculous cow outfit.
What used to bring her utter (not udder) dread and embarrassment had turned to pride. And when she told me so, it made my heart swell.
So, here’s the takeaway: Does anyone need to hear “I’m so proud of you” from you? I bet there is someone whose heart would swell to hear you speak those words. Words have so much power. They can devastate, and they can give life. I want to choose mine care-fully and help affirm as many people as possible. Maybe you’d like to join me?
I’m proud of you for making it to the end of this email!
Gotta run—I’ve got some folks I need to affirm!
Written with love – – Patti XOXO
“Like apples of gold in settings of silver, is a word spoken at the proper time.”
Proverbs 25:11