My Father! what am I, that all
Thy mercies sweet like sunlight fall
So constant o'er my way?
That Thy great love should shelter me,
And guide my steps so tenderly
Through every changing day?
ANON.
Ode To Mother
by: Lottie Krol
Sitting in my mother's living room, watching Polish satellite cable, I couldn't help but admire her. Here she was in her early seventies looking anything but that age. Her hair always immaculately done up by weekly visits to the hairdressers. Her wardrobe consisted of dress slacks and silky print blouses, mother never wore jeans in her life.
She sat perched on the edge of her couch, talking about everything and everyone she has encountered in the last few days. She kept chattering away not even noticing my deep concentration upon her person. I couldn't help, but admire her after all she has encountered in her life and yet, one couldn't see all that strife upon her face. She looked beautiful, her age not evident upon her face nor the struggles she endured.
My mother not only looked beautiful on the outside, but also on the inside. I don't believe I have ever met anyone who didn't like her or had anything bad to say of her person. She lived by the creed of never burning your bridges and always acting with dignity. It didn't matter how she really felt about others, she never shown it, always behaving in a courteous way.
I'm in awe of her and all that she has accomplished, this small and elderly woman that has shown more bravery than I'll ever be capable of in my lifetime.Yes, bravery.
How many women of 30 years of age would travel across the ocean with their husband and three children to a country where she does not speak the language? Very few, indeed. Yet, my mother did just that. She traveled here to a country where her mother-in-law and a distant cousin she never met were the only people in her life.
Where would we all be if our ancestors never ventured out boldly into the world so their families can have a better life? They endured hardships so we could prosper. My mother is one of those pioneers who paved the way for all of us. No wonder I am in awe of her bravery. Could I do the same? Could I be that brave?
I doubt that very much. There is a story she tells often of us first setting upon the new country. We didn't port in New York as did many others before us, but in Canada. As we waited for the Greyhound Bus to arrive to take us to Chicago, my mother wandered off to a tiny cafe within the area to purchase sandwiches for all of us. As she struggled to communicate with sign language to the woman behind the counter, she realized the enormity of her endeavor.
"How in the world will I be able to live here?" For the first time since making this bold decision, she became afraid. No close friends nor family. Not even an apartment to live in, nor a job and definitely no knowledge of the English language. The enormity of the situation both frightened and overwhelmed her. Yet, she overcame it.
Mother took the jobs that no one else wanted, cleaning the Willis Tower at night and wealthy people's homes during the mornings. As she learned the language at a nearby Community College, she progressed into finding a job in a factory. She moved up, little by little, finally retiring at the age of seventy in the healthcare profession as a Data Entry Clerk.
So I'm sitting here in her tiny living room of her one bedroom apartment, really seeing her for all she has been and continues to be. Our mothers can frustrate us with their high expectations that somehow we never quite feel we can fill, yet deep inside, I know they only want us to be better by taking the path that has been paved new.
"Lottie, are you listening to me?"
"Yes, mother. I am listening to you."
Have a blessed day everyone.
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