Charlotte’s Web…A Tribute to My Mom

Weaving the Web of this Wonderful Woman’s Story

(make sure you watch the closing video!)

I realize that some of this story of my mom may shock some of you, so I apologize for this shock.  The story of my mom is wrapped up in the story of my dad. And unfortunately, that is not the story that some of you are aware of. Family secrets! After years and years of counseling, my counselor has encouraged me that it’s okay to tell the story. Telling truth heals. My mother has also given me permission to tell this story. As she says, “The story is over and we must move on, but the story still affects our lives.” So, if you know us as a family and this is the first time you have heard this story, please know that this has become a story of God and His healing grace, not of evil brought on by abuse. It is a story of three beautiful women (my mom, sister, and I) who found healing in Jesus and healing in our own love for one another. I believe that God has given us these years for us to heal as a family.   

My mother loves to laugh, play games, and sing silly songs.  But the thing my mother loves to do the most is to tell others about Jesus.  She has this incredible way of listening to others, feeling their hurts, then telling them about Jesus.

You would think that I would have been able to tell you these things about my mom since I was a young girl, but the truth is that I didn’t know my mother while I was growing up.  No, she didn’t leave us. No, I wasn’t adopted by another family.  In fact, my mother lived within the same home that I did. My mother changed my diapers like most moms; she cooked me dinner and washed my clothes. But I didn’t know her.  It was not that she didn’t love me…I just didn’t know her.

When I first started counseling working through the abuse of my father, the counselor asked me about my mom. I remember looking at her and telling her that I knew my mother was somewhere in our house, but I couldn’t tell her where she was.  Even though I had little memories of my mom, there is one memory that is forever etched in my heart. In the morning as I poured my bowl of cereal, I would look into the family room and see my mother reading her bible. I think that was God’s way of saying I had a good momma, but I just couldn’t see it yet because of my abusive father.

You see, abuse is all about survival. Whoever is within the target area of the abuser, their only chance for life is survival.  The three of us girls (my mom, sister, and I) survived the physical, sexual, and emotional abuse of my father. Being a pastor in a prominent church, we also survived spiritual abuse.

Years ago, I wrote a book that I never published.  This book is titled, “Share the Road.” Share the Road is the story of my survival as a young girl.  Here is an excerpt from my book…

“…I have walked through healing enough to learn that the absence of the love and care that I would feel from my mother was because she too was surviving.  Her days were filled with treading water in an ocean of chaos and control.  She spent her energy trying to be the best person that she could be. She would have moments of pleasure of who she was only to be crushed by disapproval from the person who should have loved and cherished her the most.  When our energy is spent on our own survival, it depletes us of any energy to give to others. My mother was surviving the looming presence of control and fear pushing her into the life of survival for herself; the life of fear; the life of danger.

When I see my mother now, since the threat of danger and unsafety has been removed, I am able to see my mother for who she truly is.  She is a woman who is full of life and love and laughter; a woman who is full of faith and a deep love for God. 

When I was young, I didn’t get the privilege of experiencing that life in my mother.  I couldn’t experience it because of the dark cloud that loomed over our home.  I couldn’t see it because of the barrier of destruction that came between her and I.  I see now how she could have been that mother that I so longed for;

a mother who laughed with me;

who taught me silly songs and phrases;

who played games with me;

who would cry with me. 

The things I longed for was right there at my fingertips, right within my grasp. But the more I reached for it, the further away it felt. As I would reach for it, the dark cloud would loom over, reach down, and shove her love away from me.

I was left feeling like an orphan in the presence of a parent who longed to give her love,

all the love that I needed as a young girl.”

I continue on in the book describing this like being locked in a cage. I imagined three separate cages: one for me, one for my mom and one for my sister.  These cages were far enough apart that no matter how hard we reached to touch one another, our fingers never connected. I longed to love the mother that I saw locked in that cage, but the evil from abuse kept us separated from one another. Once my father passed, we were let out of our locked cages.  We wandered for awhile not knowing how to connect with each other, but through the years of healing we have an embrace, a connection, a bond that will never be broken.

If I could shout it from a mountain top the wonder of this woman, I would.  I look at the things she survived and am amazed at her faith. I believe that her survival of this bonded her to Jesus in a way that most people don’t understand. Is she broken from this abuse? Yes. But so am I! You cannot survive this extent of abuse and not have it affect you for the rest of your life. Should she have left him? Maybe! But reality is that she didn’t. I believe that my momma made the best choices that she could within an extremely difficult situation. And I choose to honor her for that.

Once my father died, I remember my sister and I looking at one another as if to say, “Who is this woman?” “I don’t know, but I guess that we are going to find out!”

This is what I discovered…

My mother is one of the most beautiful women that I know. She is beautiful both inside and out. There are times that I look at my mother and am amazed at how beautiful she is. She likes to look her best whenever possible.  She loves putting on her makeup and wearing her jewelry.  She loves coffee and the St. Louis Cardinals. She loves her grandkids and her great grandkids. She prays for all of us every night before she goes to sleep. If you sit by her for more than one minute, she will tell you about Jesus. She will tell you that you need Him in your life. She will teach you faith and teach you God’s word. If you sit by her for longer than two minutes, she will begin to sing to you.  No, she does sing Amazing Grace or her favorite hymn. She will sing to you a silly song.  This silly song will be forever etched in your heart. As I stated before…my mother is one of the most beautiful women that I know.

Recently, after the birth of my granddaughter, my mom wanted to make sure I taught her this song. This is a song she sung often to my children and now I want to sing this song to her.

I love you a bushel and a peck
A bushel and a peck and a hug around the neck
A hug around the neck and a barrel and a heap
A barrel and a heap and I’m talkin’ in my sleep

About you, about you!

Happy Mother’s Day momma! I love you!