Momma

Today is my mom’s birthday. She’s been gone for sixteen and a half years and that hardly seems possible. My relationship with her was complicated–the details of which are more suited for a coffee shop chat than a blog. After the age of eight, almost nine, I didn’t live with my mom full time. There’s a lot of heartache in the layers of story there and I’m not interested in pouring them out. What I do want to share is how she built the foundation of my worldview, character, and aspirations of who I’d like to become.

MariAnne had a rough childhood largely due to an abusive mother, one she only spoke about in sing-song euphemisms to protect her children from the full impact of the truth. What we needed to know was that she chose differently and that we experienced childhood differently, too. I’ve learned in more recent years about childhood ACES (Adverse Childhood Experiences) and their impact on brain development, mental health, physical health and the vital importance of having adults who support and believe in you, even if it’s just one. My mom had more ACES than I will ever know. She also had grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins who adored her, supported her, believed in her.

My mom graduated from boarding school, got a degree in nursing, raised four children, traveled as a missionary and teacher to Cuba, South Korea, and some of the Pacific Islands. She climbed mountains, she waterskiied, she could style a home on no money and make it look effortlessly elegant. Long after my parents divorced, my dad told me “your mom could make any place feel like a warm, beautiful home, no matter what our budget.” When her kids were far away, she made sure to not stop loving and took many kids under her wing, teaching them how to drive, giving them a chance to earn a little money doing chores, reminding them of their importance and worth, just like she’d done for her own kids.

When I was little and would come home from school complaining of a mean girl, my mom was insistent that I consider the source of the meanness. She worked very deliberately to help me hone a sense of empathy. Maybe this little girl doesn’t have a happy home. Maybe this little girl is acting out. Maybe this little girl needs your friendship. “Oh Mom!” I’d be so mad that she wouldn’t take my side. I’m so glad she didn’t. I’m so glad she wanted me to think of others. My mom had a spirit of forgiveness that I would like to emulate more. I find it so interesting that some folks can have the worst possible things happen to them and they deliberately choose the path of grace, love, forgiveness, and hope, and others become bitter, angry, score-keeping, and vengeful. She once told me I was just like her and I bristled as a young woman might do when their mother lays that sort of mantle on her shoulders. Now at nearly 47, I think to myself, “Oh, God, I hope so.”

Happy birthday, momma. Thanks for showing us a better way to be.

[My siblings and I have set up a memorial nursing scholarship in our mom’s name at Walla Walla University, her alma mater. The first Sunday in May, I host a porch pop-up at my home where we sell our art, creative achievements, my jewelry, and I invite other vendors to sell their goods in anticipation of Mother’s Day the following week. Our proceeds go to help fund that scholarship. I encourage you to put that day on your calendar as it’s a lot of fun and there’ll be refreshments as well. If you’d like to donate directly to the scholarship you can go here: https://payment.wallawalla.edu/donate#/ in the first dropdown box, choose “Student Aid and Scholarships.” In the second dropdown box, choose “Other.” Then where it says to “Describe Your Donation” write MariAnne Jensen Moore Memorial Nursing Scholarship. Thank you very much to all those who have contributed before as the scholarship has been providing support to Walla Walla University nursing students for a number of years now.]