We had just gone into the store for a couple of sandwiches.
When my mom is here visiting, my daughter Tessa lives her best granddaughter life, and eats whatever she wants.
I had tried telling her we had food at home that I planned to make,
but as a grandma, my mom offers the stars.
I saw her and Tessa whispering to one another just after I’d said it,
and I heard my mom tell her to just go get her purse.
Once in the store, I perused the aisles as the two of them stood in line at the deli.
Twenty minutes passed, though, and I started to wonder just where they were,
so I wound back looking for them, and I narrowed my eyes in a question as only Tessa emerged.
“Where’s Buddie?”
(Her grandma name, given by the oldest grandchild.
Funny at the beginning, but now 7 grandchildren that she treats like best friends later,
and we realize how much it was the perfect name for her)
Tessa shrugged and smiled.
“She’s talking to the deli clerk. I guess she knows her from somewhere.”
This didn’t surprise me at all. No matter where my mom goes she literally always runs into someone she knows, and no one is a stranger to her.
I went to go check, thinking maybe I’d know them, too, and I found my mom pressed up against the glass of the deli counter, deep in the throes.
She was eye-to-eye with a woman working behind it that I did not recognize,
and I could see tears brimming in the eyes of that clerk.
When I listened more closely I could hear that the woman was talking to my mom about losses that had recently shaken her.
Her home, pet, and several friends had been lost in the Paradise fire that had completely decimated an entire town several hours north of here a few years ago.
My eyes told Tessa we’d be waiting awhile.
We’ve grown accustomed to waiting as my mom does this kind of Heart Work:
Touching outstretched hands of dirty children, while telling tired moms they’re doing a good job,
Giving the last dollar she has,
Asking homeless people their names and stories,
and truly listening to them instead of only reaching into her purse.
I could only hear snippets of the conversation, but I quickly assumed this woman was someone my mom had known for many years, and when I heard her say,
“Come around here. I want to give you a hug,” I thought my assumption was confirmed.
For several long seconds, it felt like time stood still in that little shop.
Other customers stood around and looked.
Tessa and I just waited and watched as my mother took that now fully crying woman into her arms, and held her and quietly said words that I strained to hear,
“Your life matters” and “You are greatly loved.”
They released, and looked into each other’s eyes a little longer,
I nodded a “Thank you,”
then we took the sandwiches and exited the shop.
“Who was that?” I asked my mom as we left.
“Oh. I didn’t know her,” she surprised.
“She heard where I came from and since it was close to Paradise, we started talking and she was just sharing all that she has lost.”
Realizing that interaction had been with a complete stranger,
I looked to Tessa to make sure she had also heard.
So often as a mom I try to point to the moments when love paints its portrait with more than just greeting cards or words.
I thought about the heritage of love my mother has passed down.
I thought of the times I, too, have hugged strangers in a line somewhere because of the example set by her.
Clearly holding the knowledge of how that moment should shape her,
I watched as Tessa quietly held open my mom’s car door for her.
For a brief moment today my four girls all walked up ahead,
I walked alone in the middle,
and my mom walked slowly a few steps behind me.
For that brief moment I thought about how that was such a picture of our lives.
I looked back at my own mother, slightly more frail than she once was, but ingrained and familiar.
I then looked at the girls that, God willing,
will keep on moving forward,
even when we are no longer behind them;
When the sound of our footsteps and voices are just memories.
The past and the future, moving in a line.
I felt my place there as the link, tying my daughters to my mother, and every mother before her.
Today I thought about a line of women that stretched on forever – Walking, running, always moving forward, passing on the mantle to new generations all throughout history.
I have taken the torch from gentle, yet powerful hands,
and when I look ahead I am so proud and confident in the hands that will one day
take it from me.
I pray that kind of love is always our line,
and each of us in it can look to the one behind us and say with confidence,
“Yes. I got it from her.”
Mom Outnumbered
Hi! My name is Kerri Green; Wife to Justin, and mother to four highly entertaining daughters -Alena, Chloe, Tessa, and Paige. I am an artist, a writer, a daycare provider, a lover of people, a believer that there is humor and beauty in all things, and the author of Mom Outnumbered; a blog about real family life, and my observations of it. My goal is to make people laugh, to be there for them when they cry, and most importantly, to let them know that they are not at all alone in this up and down world. I live with my family in Sebastopol California, and I am opening the window into our life. So welcome! Come in. Sit down. Just please don’t mind the mysterious wet spots.
