Today is a special Five Minute Friday, coming on the heels of an excellent series on Lisa-Jo's blog about mamas and the memories we carry with us now of the things they did way back then.
Lisa-Jo asks, "What did your mama do that makes her your mama? Let's unpack those memories today. Let's trace our fingers along the lines of the unexpected. The ordinary beauty in a day of motherhood. The food or the laughing or the dancing or the story telling.
In just five minutes. Tell me about what your mama did that made her yours..."
Here is where my memory took me today, for my own five minutes about my own sweet mama...
What mama did...
For me as a young child, nighttime was often filled with the startlingly real terrors of my imagination. Fear gripped me, driving me out of bed to find my Mom and say the words I am sure she didn’t love to hear at the end of a long day,
“Mom, would you come and rub my back?”
She would already have put me to bed, brought me a glass of water, tucked me in tight.
But sometimes it took more than those simple acts to keep out the darkness.
On those nights it was pure comfort to lay there on my belly, snuggled down under the covers, Mom sitting next to me on the bed, the weight of her pulling the covers tight over my body. Slowly her hands would trace circles over my back, smoothing out the tension, smoothing in her love, the peace and safety of her presence.
Quietly she would sing…
“Michael, row your boat ashore…Alleluia,
Michael, row your boat ashore, Alleluia…”
With my Mom’s quiet voice washing over me, my fear seeped slowly away. I knew, in that deep knowing place of a child, that her voice and her body were the strongest walls of the most fortified castle. Encircled there by her love and care, I could find my way to sleep, a weary traveler making her way home at the end of a long journey.
Thank you, Mom, for soothing my fears, for driving away the terrors of the night with your love and the strength of your presence. I love you.