Handfuls of Encouragement

I love the stories that my mother tells.  Stories about the ordinary yet humorous events of our lives. But, I love even more the stories that my mother is too humble to tell.  The ones that start with a scared girl (me) facing a challenge and end with the girl triumphant – all because of her mother’s encouragement.

Again and again, my mother stood up to my toughest critics – my worries!

I first remember her inspiration at my piano recital as a 10-year-old.  I was so overcome with nerves that I thought my fingers would fall off. (Maybe I secretly hoped that they would!)  But my mother was at my side to calm my fears in her own unusual way.

“Give them to me,” she said.

Give her what?  I didn’t understand what she meant.  She held her palm outstretched and said, “those worries – give them to me.” She looked at me intently and kept her hand there, waiting for me to deposit the imaginary – but very real – worries from my hand to hers.  I reluctantly went along with it, and then felt an uncontrollable smile.  When the recital ended, I was filled with pride. Not because I became a Beethoven, but because I learned through my mother that I could leave my worries behind.     

Through the years, I gave her many more handfuls of my worries.  The school play, college entrance exams, buying a house – I survived them all with her help. With her words and her hand, she took away my fears and replaced them with an irreplaceable gift: confidence in myself.

So, this Mother’s Day, I honor my mother by filling her hand - not with my worries - but with my sincere gratitude. Thank you, Mom!

word count: 289