Moms
By Elise Eggett Johnson on May 12, 2007
The greatest gift my mother gave me as a child was the nurturing of my natural curiosity. I feel a twinge of sadness when I see busy mothers respond to a child’s question of “why” with a quick “just because” or something equally as trite. Even as a child who probably used the word “why” excessively, my mom rarely lost her patience and rarely responded with anything less than teaching me the answer.
I asked why there were clouds, and she bought cotton balls that would absorb evaporating water in a jar until they got so full of moisture that they “rained”. I asked why batteries make things go, and to the library we went to get a book that taught us how to take red and blue wires and cross them around the top of a battery and make a light bulb glow. I asked why I had to turn the lights off when I left a room, and she found a science center to take me to that allowed me to pedal a bike long and hard to generate enough energy to turn a TV on for a minute or two (and I did turn lights off after that, most of the time).
When I started to ask why church on Sunday, or why pray before bed, or why scriptures, my mom turned to research and experimenting yet again. We opened the Book of Mormon together and she read to me from Alma 32:28-33, which compares God’s word to a seed that is planted in our heart, that by growing will show us that it is good. And then, you guessed it, off to the garden shop we went, where my mom bought me a seed and a pot so that I could learn what happens when a seed is nurtured.
That seed grew into a flower. And I did plant a seed in my heart, too, and tried to nurture it like my mom taught me to. The seed in my heart grew into a different looking flower than the seed in her heart, and our different-looking flowers has made it difficult for us to understand and relate to each other at times. The planned experiments about clouds and electricity and energy had very predictable outcomes, and my mom probably thought (or at least hoped) the spiritual experiment’s outcome could be predicted, too. But although different, her flower is beautiful, and so is mine, and we are learning to appreciate that more and more.
I am so glad that my mom nurtured my curiosity and encouraged me to plant seeds. If I ever have a daughter, I will encourage her to do the same. I would also teach her something about matters of the heart that through experimenting and growing, my mom and I have learned and discovered together (summed up in the words of Sue Monk Kidd, discussing the discovery of the spiritual nature inside each of us):
“Nothing happens neatly on journeys such as this. There is no one-two-three program. There are no guarantees, and no two journeys unfold the same way…[each] brims with its own unique events, risks, complexities, pains, and rewards. And every story is a luminous thread that becomes part of a larger fabric, a fabric we are weaving together for the whole world, and this fabric is a thing of immense importance and beauty.”
I’d love to hear you brag about your mom (or other important women in your life). Was she a luminous thread in the fabric of your life, too? What did you learn from her? What do you admire about her?
Elise,
I have the same kind of gratitude for my mom’s patience with my “why” questions. And sometimes what stands out to me most clearly is her simply asking me what I’d studied that day in school and really, really listening and asking follow-up questions as I’d tell her. In many ways, that helped my learning process because I knew I would need to share stuff with her and that made me learn to listen with the idea of having to teach it back. I still meet what I read and encounter in that same way: an ear to possibly having the chance to share it with someone else.
My mom passed away just over four years ago, and I’m glad I took the chance to share with her my thanks for her interest in my learning. And I’m glad for this chance to share it again in this way.
Comment # 1 by Dan | May 14, 2007 | Reply
It sounds like you have a wonderful mother, Elise. And a wonderful post as well… one of the best I’ve read at SunstoneBlog.
My mother’s gift to me was endless opportunities and encouragement. She exposed me to everything… there wasn’t a camp I didn’t attend or a lesson I didn’t experience: baskeball camps, tennis camps, golf lessons, social camps, religious/spiritual retreats, cotillions, piano lessons, synthesizer lessons, guiitar, singing, arts/crafts, to say nothing of the church-sponsored activities like boy scouts, seminary, youth activities, and so forth… she shared her love of reading and writing with me, encouraging me to lose myself in both activities… she exposed me to endless concerts, plays, museums, and cuisine from around the world… vacations were always as educational as they were adventurous… she encouraged me to run for school office, to stretch myself academically…
Not everything she exposed me to stuck, but the many things that did make me the person I am today. For that I have my mom to thank.
Comment # 2 by Matt Thurston | May 15, 2007 | Reply
My dad taught me to read when I was three years old because I used to ask so many questions and he needed a break.
I’m glad he didn’t just tell me to go away, but instead gave me a way to find my own answers.
Comment # 3 by chosha | May 15, 2007 | Reply
I enjoyed the post. My mom taught me that no one minded conforming, or following like a bunch of sheep the day Moses led the children of Israel through the Red Sea on dry ground. I guess Sue Monk Kidd would have forged her own path through the water, rather than follow Moses. Needless to say, my family is proud to have similar looking flowers.
Comment # 4 by anon | May 16, 2007 | Reply
My mother was born with a cleft palate, the birth defect that usually is accompanied by a hare lip (although not in her case). It caused her to have problems speaking and all her life people had trouble understanding her speech. Because I’d grown up with her, I understood her perfectly and didn’t realize until I was 13 and a friend asked me how come my mom talked funny that she spoke any differently than anyone else.
I never understood why sometimes she had me interpret for her, I just did it.
But my mom loved music. She loved to listen to the radio and she loved to sing. She taught us to love it, as well.
Comment # 5 by annegb | May 30, 2007 | Reply