My Mother's Day Gift From MAMA

I remember so many times I’d pick up the phone to call my mother and I’d hear, “Funmi, Funmi”.  She was dialing me at the same time.  I’d say “Mama, that you?”  And she’d quickly reply, “Hey baby! What’s up?”  There were often times when just her asking me what’s up would lead to hours of conversation.  I generally spoke to her every day.  My mother called each one of her children every day – well, at least the three girls.  If we missed a day because our lives got in the way, she forgave us and never mentioned it again.  Her heart was so pure; the purest I’ve ever known.

During one of our conversations years ago, she told me that she never worried about me.  She knew I had what it took to be okay.  I often wondered what exactly she meant by that.  I think I sort of wanted/needed her to worry about me.  But when I finally asked her why she didn’t worry and how she knew I’d be ok, she told me that I was a thinker and that I was able to express myself.  She said that people who don’t speak up for themselves usually lead lives of regret.  She knew that I would always speak up for what I believe in, those I love and specifically for myself.  She even told me that she thought I was strong.  I agreed with most of what she said, but I’ve struggled with convincing myself of my strength.  Not that I haven’t been on the successful side of some of the worst battles life has to offer, but I often come out broken and damaged.  I guess that doesn’t mean one isn’t strong.  Strength is what brings us through, right?

My mother always reassured me of my strengths and didn’t mind sharing with me what my weaknesses were.  She taught all of us to complement each other, praise each other.  She also taught us to correct each other when needed.  I remember, my oldest sister, Darlene told me one day that I had a “nasty attitude”.  I don’t recall saying anything back to her but I do recall being hurt by her comment.  You see, Darlene is the sweet one.  She’s the one most like my mother and if she says something bad about you, you know two things.  1.  It’s true. 2. She hates to have to say it.  I asked her, not long ago, if she remembered telling me that and she said she didn’t.  I, contrarily, will never forget.

I’ve been tested in the last few years regarding standing up for myself and having a “nasty attitude”.  I had to fuse together what my mother said to me with what my sister said to me and make that into a positive existence.  The nasty attitude came from being hurt and damaged; unenthused and feeling defeated.  I’ve never had a problem standing up for myself (except when it came to men).  I just didn’t know how to do that without being a jerk-off.  It has been so bad that at times no one heard me.  They heard my tone and decided not to listen to me.  I tried to sway myself into believing that it was everybody else.  I mean, how can I be expected to sugar coat everything just to protect someone else’s feelings?  That’s their issue, not mine.  I tried to make that my reality.  But as with all things, my reality soon came into question.

One of the last conversations I had with my mother was about my husband.  Mama, by the way, is THE only person I ever talked to about my husband.  I figured she understood the type of man he was.  For heaven’s sake she was married to one herself as she proclaimed to everyone on our wedding day.  She said that Brad reminded her of my father.  Of course he does, right?  During the conversation, I begged her to explain to me how to get Brad to see my point of view on whatever it was that we were arguing about.  I was frustrated and I felt ignored – like he wasn’t listening to me and didn’t value my opinion.  She said to me, “Either you are crying the entire time you’re talking to him or you’re cursing him out while you’re talking.  Which one is it?”  Well I got teary eyed because I knew this woman who always gave me praise was about to tell me that I’d done something wrong and I didn’t want to hear it.

She said, “Funmi, no matter what you say to that man, you must maintain a level of respect.  You have to make sure that you don’t compromise his manhood.  If you want him to listen don’t be too soft and don’t you be too hard.  Just talk to him.  He loves you and he wants to hear what you have to say.  It’s all in the delivery.”

You might wonder how I can remember verbatim those words from my mother’s mouth.  Well, I wrote it down and before I went to bed last night, she led me to it.  I started praying heavily about some concerns I’ve had lately about our family.  I instantly felt bad because I knew this would be one of those conversations that I’d have with her – usually.  Plus, it was Mother’s Day and I was just feeling heavy hearted.  I started talking myself out of talking to Brad about these concerns all together because I just didn’t know how to broach the subject.  (Hard to imagine, right?)  Well, my husband is the only person in the WORLD that makes me want to prep for conversations.   If you know him (at all) this will not be a huge surprise.

After I prayed I heard my mother say “I’m proud of you.” I was going to record that in my journal when I happened upon the page where I had written the aforementioned comment.  I have no question it was her.  I needed her and she was there, just like she had always been.  She made me feel at ease; gave me a nice kick in the arse and then she sealed it with a kiss, like only my mother could do.

I asked my husband to lunch today.  We talked.  It went well and I never had to raise my voice, curse him out or cry (much).  My mother, yet again saved the day.  There is nothing that can stop a mother’s love; not even death. 

Now, that’s a Mother’s Day gift!