I made cookies this week;
“Mom’s cookies,” the kids call them.
Plain gluten-free chocolate chip.
Nothing fancy, really, but I wanted something sweet, so I set the oven to preheat, and started to mix.
I know the recipe by heart at this point, and as I started to put the sugar in, I remembered a time years ago when my friend, Lisa, had suggested I shift the balance of the sugars some, and add more brown sugar than white to them, because the brown binds more.
Since they were gluten-free, she thought that they could use the extra help.
I have made those cookies that same way now for 20 years, influenced by her take on them.
(Which did make them better, I’ll admit.)
As I prepared to stick them in the oven, I thought about how often people’s suggestions, comments, ideas or just their essence can shape our own life:
Like recipes of who we are, with bits of them added in.
So much of what I believe and who I am has been shaped this way:
By people who came along with their ideas, help, and influence,
and I don’t think I’ll ever think of those cookies as “MY cookies” for that very reason.
Instead, I always think of her at that specific step; Of her friendship, of influence, and of how people can make each other better in a million ways every single time I make them.
Two days later, and my mom was texting me, as she does so often.
Her message was, “Anything you need or that I can do for you?”
I exhaled at the offer of help.
Mere days after my husband’s recent colonoscopy, he had a major complication from it, and had spent a couple of days in the hospital repairing it.
I had been sitting in a hospital folding chair so long my body screamed.
I was weary and overwhelmed.
I just looked at that message when it came through, and thought about her offering.
My parents have taught me by example that showing up and making yourself available to help in any way you can is a key element of being a good human.
Because of this, observing someone suffer and just shrugging it off is completely foreign to me.
The offer of help can be done in small ways. It often is.
It’s school pick-ups, or help with a chore, or a grocery run.
It’s in the willingness to say, “I care about lightening your load.” “I see you.”
“Your peace matters to me, as well.”
Through her simple message, I realized yet another shaping by another person.
The faithful kneading of the hands that made me.
A little drop of this here, a little spoonful of that there.
My mother’s actions of sacrifice, and assistance throughout my life have shaped how I believe I should act in this world. I cannot count the number of times she has dropped everything.
They have added to me things like mercy, and grace.
With yesterday being Martin Luther King Jr.’s birthday, as well, I have now spent a better part of this week contemplating the people that come into our lives, and into our minds by their example to shape how we get formed:
A little comment here, an observation there, and, before long, we become something different, and they’ve built the scaffolding.
Some come along as builders.
The way you know is if they use themselves to bandage and prop you up.
Their voices are soothing. Helpful. Inspiring. The push you on.
Their voices will feel like truth and love.
Some will come with hammers, bent on trying to destroy parts of us,
and the important thing is to recognize
which ones hold the hammers,
and which ones hold the gauze.
This year I have spent more time than ever evaluating my belief system.
I’ve made note of all the things that have shaped me in my life:
All the people, all the suggestions, all the experiences, all the darkness, and -most importantly- all the love.
What it has made me see is that I want more than anything to keep passing on the good.
Shared recipes, and self-sacrifice…A voice that says, “I’m here to help.” “Name your need…”
I want a future where we take the torch of the great ones who went before us,
Like Dr. King, and carry on.
This week I’ve enjoyed those cookies so much.
They taste like good advice, like being shaped with love,
and I hope the recipe of who I am can also keep being added to, as well, just like that one.
After all, being more tightly bound together is always for the good.
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.
