Mother

Today marks the 59th anniversary of my mother's birth.  Colette Ann Couture.  Mother of five, grandmother of 6, daughter, sister, teacher, servant, woman of God.

Mom, though words fall absurdly short in expressing my gratitude for you, I will try nonetheless.

When I think about my earliest memories, you are there.   I remember sitting in your bedroom on the green arm chair, staring at the blue swirl curtains, sitting in your lap.  Safe.

The sound of your holy medals as you walked up the stairs to kiss us goodnight, the faint scent of Lubriderm, the softness of your touch, the tenderness of your "I love you"s.

 Creativity pours forth from you, manifest in thoughtfully planned birthday parties, letters to camp, magical Christmases and special treasures that make for whimsy-filled memories.

Now with children of my own, I am in awe of the energy it took for you to raise 5 girls---five strong-willed girls at that.  It was not until I had Jacob that I realized how much I still need you, I need you to tell me the next best thing when I'm too sleep-deprived and hormonal to know.  When I'm sick, your caring attention is still the best medicine.  Though a ripe old 29 year old, I still need your affirmation, your guidance, your opinion.

 One of the greatest gifts you (and Dad) have given us is our faith.  Challenges to this faith have been great, but without fail you find solace and hope in the unfailing love of Christ.  Because of your example, I now embrace the faith that I know has, quite literally, saved my life.

 Rarely have I met another person so thoroughly selfless in regard to family, to the point of sacrificing personal comforts and stability if it makes life easier for your loved ones.  Should someone need the shirt off your back, so you would give it.  With scraped knees and failed auditions, neighborhood conflicts and post-partum depression, you were there to tend wounds of body and heart.  Mama Bear rescuing her wee strong-willed cubs, your courage in facing adversity is profound.

Mom, we have suffered much as a family.  There was a time 4 years ago, a time of desolation and fear, when I did not know if we would ever have you back.  Amidst the chains of illness, I felt you slipping away from us into a world of confusion and surreality.  What would we do without our matriarch?  How would we rally the troops and soldier on, into the wild?

And yet, were we surprised that, like the innumerable other times of past turmoil, you faced it with holy fire in your soul? Yes, it began as slowly burning embers, threatening to fade, but your thirst for life and love of your family took over, pushing you forward to heal, to face pain, to cling fervently to life.

Mom, you are a wonder, a gift, a woman of strength, courage, humility, selflessness, faith, generosity, wisdom and deep, deep love.

I leave you with a quote from the incredible GK Chesterton, a man who in his wisdom sums up and affirms the immensity of motherhood, and I thank you, Mom, for your part in it:

“It is not difficult to see why … the female became the emblem of the universal … Nature …. surrounded her with very young children, who require being taught not so much anything as everything. Babies need not to be taught a trade, but to be introduced to a world. To put the matter shortly, woman is generally shut up in a house with a human being at the time when he asks all the questions that there are, and some that there aren’t. It would be odd if she retained any of the narrowness of a specialist. Now if anyone says that this duty of general enlightenment … is in itself too exacting and oppressive, I can understand the view. I can only answer that our race has thought it worth while to cast this burden on women in order to keep common-sense in the world. … How can it be a large career to tell other people’s children about the Rule of Three, and a small career to tell one’s own children about the universe? How can it be broad to be the same thing to everyone, and narrow to be everything to someone? No. A woman’s function is laborious, but because it is gigantic, not because it is minute. I will pity Mrs. Jones for the hugeness of her task; I will never pity her for its smallness.”

Fighting PPD, one 'do rag at a time