Mom. What a title. Sometimes, I can’t wait for that to be me, and, other times, it’s a pretty scary thought. I actually call my mom “mama.” I call her Sonya, too, but she doesn’t like that very much. I still do it anyway, but I think I can get away with it because she loves me. Unconditionally. Sacrificially. Undeservedly.
This month was quite hard for me when we’d show up at the dance bars and hear some of the girls’ stories. One, in particular, shattered my heart, but when the Lord picked up the pieces, He held it together with a spirit of gratitude.
I learned that one of my new friends lived with her mom and about 8 siblings. They didn’t have a dad, and, as one of the adult children, she was forced to work to help support mom and siblings. It wasn’t just any work, though; it was that of dancing and prostitution. Even though her job is looked down upon in her culture, her mother said it was okay. “It’s not that bad,” to quote her quoting her mom.
This is where I have come to my end, because I can’t decipher right from wrong, justice and injustice, or sanity versus insanity. Allowing your daughter to sell her body for an income because it is comfortable and reliable, among other things, is quite hard for my head and my heart to accept. Sex is always wanted, and lust never goes out of business. But is it worth the cost of identity, purpose, and dignity? I don’t know, and I know I don’t have to know. I’m probably not supposed to know. I’ll leave it up to God, because that’s the only thing that does make sense to me. It’s not my job to judge; only to love, and I definitely have multiple logs in both of my eyes anyway.
I left this conversation loving my mother probably more than I ever have realized in my life. I could definitely pick out things that she hasn’t done so gracious or lovingly, but I have never experienced an instance where my faith, worth, or desires of my soul weren’t hers as well. Although my life choices have been less than traditional or typical and it takes an emotional toll on her (and even me sometimes), she has never failed to meet me with grace, cheer, and support at some point in the journey. My favorite thing about Sonya and myself is that we are frickin’ hilarious. Whether it is playing Yahtzee, drinking margaritas, back seat driving, video chatting, or serving at my parents’ bar, we can always belly laugh. Moms can have bad boundaries sometimes, but, then again, they’re moms, so I think it can be dismissed occasionally. I just think of the sacrifices my mama has made and the depths she reaches to either serve me or pull me out of it altogether.
I could go on and on about how great Sonya is, but basically, I just wanted to say thanks. Thank you, mama, for all the above and more, and thank you to all you moms for loving your children in various different ways. Our relationships with you change our lives. I don’t write this blog to shame moms in the further above situation, or to compare. I know my friend’s mom is hard working, selfless, and loving in her own way. I write this with just an overwhelming appreciation for the role that is mom in our lives, and especially the way my mama is in mine.
