Pacing along outside the barbed wire fence in front of the cell her daughter was
locked within, day after day, a mother kept vigil. Hour after hour, from the
time the sun rose, until long after dark the mother was there. Why this lonely,
supreme effort?
When I read of her, my own heart empathized with her anguish, and with the love
for a child that made it so. Those among us with a mother's heart well know that
a child can be a mother's greatest love, but also has the power to inflict her
greatest heartbreak. This woman's nineteen-year-old daughter had been
incarcerated and stood trial for a crime she had committed. Her daughter was so
distraught over what she had done, so filled with remorse and self-hate, that
she wanted to take her own life. From the depths of her grief, she told her
mother during a visit, "It would be so much easier if I ended my life. I can't
accept what I have done! There is no way I can ever forgive myself ...I can find
no reason to go on ...I don't want to live any longer."
"No!" Her mother protested, wanting desperately to reach through the visiting
room glass that divided them and hold her daughter close. Her own heart could
forgive, and she was unable to fathom even the thought of her daughter taking
her own life. "You must choose life," she pleaded. "As hopeless as things seem,
you must not take your life. No matter what you have done, you are my child. I
love you. And need you."
"But Mom," the woman-child cried, "I've done this terrible, unthinkable thing;
I've been an accomplish to robbing a store--at gun point! I threatened an
innocent person, and realized I was capable of pulling the trigger. I can't stop
thinking about it, and what a terrible thing I've been a party to. I can't take
being alone in with my thoughts and I don't have the strength to live in this
environment, this cell...I feel so alone. I am alone."
Her mother's heart instantly connected and felt with and for this child of hers.
"You are not alone," the mother insisted, knowing it was so. Even though her
child had done a terrible thing, she would remain faithful to seeing that her
daughter swim through the turbulent waters, and reach the shore of better times.
That her baby learn to walk a righteous path in life, that her child squarely
face the lessons of life and their consequences, that her now adult daughter
turn her face to the sun and choose hope--and life--was simply her never-ending
role as a mother. She would not judge her daughter or reject her. She most
especially would not give up hope that her child's soul would win the battle in
its fight for light over shadows. She would buoy her daughter somehow. "Promise
me that you will not take your life," the nineteen-year-old's mother appealed.
"If only I had your courage and strength," the daughter lamented.
"Then you will," the mother vowed. "Promise me that as long as I am near, you
will draw on my courage and strength until you find your own again."
And so each and every day, without fail, the mother came to the prison, and
stood outside the fence near her daughter's cell. Her daughter could look out
her small window and know she was not alone, and could thus find the courage to
go on, to choose life over death, hope over despair. The mother came at daybreak
and stayed until a guard informed her that her daughter was asleep for the
night. On many occasions, that wasn't until well after midnight. This the mother
did day-in and day-out, week after week, until her daughter had come to terms
with her despair and self-loathing, and was ready to face the consequences of
her actions.
Oh, for the courage and strength of a mother's heart, one ever-willing to come
to the aid of its possessor--her child. Perhaps no greater heart-strings can
bind one soul to another than those of a mother and child--cords, that if all be
told, are stronger than those of other deep ties of love.
As I watched the unfailing loyalty and courage of this mother, I thought of how
often my own mother had tirelessly loaned me her support and courage as I paced
before the fence of some heartache that imprisoned my own daughter's precious
heart. Just last month I called my mother "to talk." This talk quickly opened up
to a discussion about a matter which involved my daughter. My mother and
daughter have a special relationship that belongs to them alone. When the three
of us get together, I instantly recognize their union and feel so grateful for
it--as grateful as I feel for the love my mother and I share, one in which we
lovingly protect and guard each other's heart.
Listening as I poured my troubles out, my mother consoled me, while offering
support for a grand-daughter who is an absolute soul-mate to her. But then, when
my mother detected that my heart was heavy and so obviously burdened, her
support shifted away from her grand-daughter--and even away from her usual
rooting for both my daughter and I--and staunchly came to rest on my side alone.
This was comforting to me--until I sensed that my mother had strayed a little
too far off the side of empathy for my daughter. Then, I began to rally for my
daughter and was soon defending her. My mother continued to defend me against my
daughter. There was a moment of tension between us, followed by its customary
silence, and then, simultaneously we both broke into laughter. We each
understood what we were doing. We were each defending our own child!
My mother loves and adores her grand-daughter, so she could be objective--but
only until she heard the pining within her own child's heart. Instinctively, she
began guarding me against my own child. And I was then defending my daughter
against my mother's straying from her defense. It was an insightful moment--and
a common one for a mother's heart.
Is this instinct? The work of angels? Or simply a legacy of a heart seasoned by
pain, enriched by love and bound by an innate soul-intelligence? Inextricably
tied to her child--and acting from a higher, wiser, more luminous part of
herself--a mother willingly ventures into the land so many flippantly call
co-dependence. Armed with a fiercely loyal love and aching protectiveness, a
mother's heart tirelessly reaches out to courageously protect and defend her
beloved child.
Those who possess a mother's heart can understand why a mother stands by her
child--even when a child doesn't always deserve such loyalty. Accepting her
all-consuming bond with her child, a mother's heart keeps her vigilance. Day by
day. Year after year. Forever.
It is through the eyes of a mother's heart that we best see a spirit that so
often remains undaunted in the face of personal or worldly failures or
shortcomings, a courageous spirit that has both unfaltering belief that any
heart can thaw the cruelty of its self-destructive ways, and an unwavering faith
that "we can get through this." A mother's compassionate spirit is an angel's
whisper coaxing us to take the high road, assuring us that doing so is the
highest form of humanness.
A mother's heart, quite possibly, is the most perfect pearl of all.
Bettie B. Youngs, Ph.D.
bettie@tasteberriesforteens.com
Excerpted from A String of
Pearls@tasteberriesforteens.com pub is Adams Media. Reach me at
byoungsint@aol.com for further contact.
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