When I posted the first photo of this trio, my mom commented Looks to me like the three Weaver Women live on! and I saw what she meant, but I would like to offer this one as a more accurate depiction. The other was bursting with potential, but here, here is the truth – a mother in full bloom, proudly supporting her two daughters.

My sister and I are just starting to bloom, finding our voices and passions, facing choices, deciding who we want to be at every fork in the road. And thankfully we have our mama to look to when things get rough. Our mother who is so passionate, so loud, so colorful, so unflinchingly honest, so bright and beautiful. When describing her to people, I’ll often say that when I was young, if I got separated from her in a crowd, I would freeze and listen hard for her laugh. She laughs so often and so uniquely, head thrown back with abandon, it was never long before I followed it back to her.

When I think of the things that I like about myself, I can trace almost every one directly to my mother. The most important of these is the ability to be true to myself, however inconvenient. She accepts herself, and has never wasted time worrying about what other people think. She has lead such a big life, has managed to re-invent herself in the face of every new challenge without ever losing the core of who she is. She has been a small town Indiana girl, world-traveling flight attendant, Honolulu-living hippie, stay-at-home mother, single working mother, social worker, peace advocate. And through it all she has laughed, has found joy in every day.

Sometimes when we’re talking, she’ll say something like how did you learn that? I don’t remember ever teaching you that! And no, she never really sat us down and said things like life is about giving back or your relationships with people are the most important things you can cultivate, but she did one better by living it. She fostered our interest in service by counseling children. She built a beautiful family for us, giving where she could, asking for help when she needed it. And though she never said here, watch what I do, we always did. We always do.

My mother has always been the strongest advocate of my creative voice – my editor and my biggest fan. She proudly wore the paper mache “earrings” that I made for her in art class and hung my early attempts at sculpture in our hallway. She stuck with me as we edited my stories, as I sobbed with the loss of every stricken phrase. I have inherited her natural curiosity – the very same impulse which used to embarrass me now guides me as I seek the stories and connections that bind us all.

When I told her I wanted to major in creative writing, there was no discussion of how I would earn a living or needing something practical to fall back on, she just reminded me that I had always said that I wanted to be published by 25. When I then switched to Politics, she was supportive but mourned it as a tiny death. And now that I’ve finally found my medium, she eats up every photo I take. If I don’t post by 5pm, I expect an email with Where is your post today? I have been refreshing and refreshing! Are you not posting? She send me tiny edits, revels in every comment. And no matter how many people read this, I think I will always write for her.

I love this song, I can hardly listen to it without tearing up. And today I offer it to my Mama, who will always be the voice that whispers all I need to hear, who has raised two beings full of pride. Thank you for giving me life, and for showing me how to live it with purpose and joy.

• May 11th, 2008
• family, musings, nature, with music
• 3 comments
• #