When I was a kid, I could tell the seasons by which foot attire I found my mother wearing. In spring and summer, thongs (also known as Flip Flops) and in fall and winter, her blue cowboy boots. My dad bought her a beautiful pair of Tony Lama navy blue cowboy boots. I loved them and dreamed of the day I could buy myself such a pair. I heard many discussions on the comfortability of boots and the benefits of buying the "good ones", the different types of leathers they came in and the styles that worked best in different scenarios. My dad was a connoisseur of such things and while money was always an issue, there some how was enough for these unique, highly worn beauties. Mom didn't spend much of her time discussing fashion or style or herself, but she was always beautiful. She made sure to do her hair, her makeup, to dress appropriately for the event. She spent hours in our local thrift shop looking for the right choice, whether for herself, or for us. She had impeccable taste and it showed in all she wore, what she purchased for us and what she created in our home.
We lived in a home built near 1900. It was a gorgeous home, if looking at the historical aspects. But when living in it as a young girl, I only saw the "old" parts that were not very functional. My mother knew of it's beauty and used all of her skills to bring it's beauty to the forefront. The spiral wood stairs leading to the 2nd story were painted with a stain wash over the paint to improve their appeal. What a job that must have been. She refinished a rocking chair, a rifle stock for my brother and a guitar for me. She sewed dresses, strawberry pinafores for all of us girls, Raggedy Anne dolls for each one of us. She learned about flower arranging, painting and curing pottery and even took a class in belly dancing. She was able to do these things because the community center offered free classes. At the time, I found her choices "strange" but now I know she found ways to be engaged and learn based on what was offered. She could bring magic to any opportunity she found.
Her ability to take any situation and find beauty in it has always been her super power. I've not always thought of it as a good thing, in fact, there have been many times during my life when I thought it was one of her greatest faults. As I've healed and matured, I've grown to understand we all have attributes that when used in the right space, can be our greatest strengths. But if we use them in an unhealthy way, can be detrimental for us. I heard the analogy comparing our talents to tools in our toolbox. Hammers are fantastic tools, but not every situation requires a hammer. Sometimes, we need to find different tools to fit the job in front of us. My mother's strengths, could be her weakness, if used in the wrong scenario and that has taught me a lot about myself also.
Besides being a cute picture of my sweet sisters and a family friend, notice the caboose in the background. When looking through old photos, this caught my attention because of the note my mother had written on the back. Read below:
"The little Red Caboose going up Provo canyon towards Price. I have always loved it and thought that if I could ever afford it I would buy it and bring it home". No matter the scenario, she sees the beauty in things. While during the majority of my childhood and early adulthood, I thought of this as a burden, I now see it for the talent it is. She finds beauty when most see trash and I love that about her.
After DCFS came to my mother and made sure that dad was out of the house, things became very stressful for her. She had to figure out a new life without any warning. I can only imagine how frightening it must have been for her. She was working 2 jobs, the graveyard shift at the county nursing home and daytime shift at the local coffee shop. She had one13 year old daughter and two10 year old daughters at home, along with me. She had my grandfather's 1963 Toyota Landcruiser for her vehicle. She had a coal furnace to heat her home. And she was operating from years of abuse and trauma. She was also dealing with substance use disorder aka addiction to prescription medication.
Somehow, she found a way to keep us all going through my senior year and to pay for my wedding, with the help of my new in-laws. It wasn't long before she found a new man and got married and moved to the neighboring town, into his home. She promised my sisters that they could stay in their current schools and she drove them everyday. I hoped that with this new man, new opportunities would present themselves. I hoped that my mom would be taken care of, that my sisters would see the benefits of finally having someone provide for them financially and feel the peace that came from feeling safe and secure. That was my hope, but not the reality. When I first visited his house, I found that it was dirty, he was dirty and none of us wanted anything to do with him. My mother's ability to take something and fix it up, was over used in the situation and I was very relieved when she announced that she was leaving this relationship and moved into a rental in our home town.
Not long after this relationship, she started another relationship with a man that appeared to be an "upstanding guy". He had a good job, was well spoken and presented himself well. But after a few visits with him, I saw beneath what he was presenting and saw a man that felt the need to show how superior he was in intellect and all the red flag warnings started screaming to me. He soon let me know that the dislike was mutual. My mom would spend years with him, move to California with him and my sisters would have to navigate his dysfunction. He was an alcoholic, he was verbally abusive and eventually, physically abusive to my mother. He took many things from my mother, including her car. He ended up spending time in prison for an automobile incident where alcohol was involved. Mom left him after a physical altercation and moved back to Utah.
It's hard to write about how I was feeling about my mother during these years. I felt responsible to help my sisters, but had little ability to truly help. I felt responsible to help my mother, but she wasn't comfortable with letting her daughter help her. She kept the "I'm the mom" stance and worked to keep that line very clear. It was so frustrating to me as I could see the chaos they were all experiencing and wanted desperately to alleviate as much as I could. I was so frustrated by her choices. I couldn't understand how she couldn't make it better for them and herself. I couldn't wrap my head around how such a beautiful, kind, loving woman could continually put herself in these relationships with abusive men. I wanted my mother and sisters to be safe, taken care of and thriving, not surviving. Over the years, I've watched this pattern in many women's lives, including my own. Many of us haven't known how to manage our own lives and believed we needed to be in a relationship to be able to provide for our kids and ourselves. In my frustration, I judged her harshly. While I've always loved her fiercely, I haven't always seen the full load she was carrying, nor have I understood the world in which she had to navigate and how that limited her understanding of her options.
For the next several years, my mother lived without a man and worked and worked and worked. She grew tired and skinny and I feared for her long term health. Each of my sisters worked to find their own path forward. They were strong, resilient, determined and survivors. They had to deal with all of these moves and men in those hardest of hard teen years. I've often felt guilt over the fact that they were in such chaos over those years. It was an intense conflict within me. I was so afraid for them if they would have stayed in the same house as my dad, would he start abusing them? But to see them in the chaos following his removal was extremely painful too. On the surface, I always blamed my dad and my mom for what happened, but deep down I've held some responsibility for the course their lives took. I don't hold that responsibility any longer, but for a few decades, I did.
In 1988, my mother was setup on a date with a man my aunt knew. I trusted my aunt and encouraged my mother to go on the date. She was petrified of dating, but finally agreed to it. It was setup for her to join this man on his boat and my mom needed me to drive her to meet him. As we drove, she shared of her fears and I tried to calm her reminding her that her sister knew him and she could trust her. He was the County Clerk and seemed to be a "good" guy. When we arrived at the meeting location, my mom sat in the car, frozen in fear. I sat with her for a moment, then told her we were going to get out and I got out and walked over to her door and opened it from the outside. She got out and we proceeded over to her date and I introduced myself. His smile was bright and his warmth was obvious. I left my mom with him and said a prayer for her safety and for this to be a good thing for her.
Over the next year, they dated. He lived 100 miles away from her but traveled to see her every other weekend. I started to see a man who genuinely cared for and about her. I saw a man that put his energy behind her, not just taking from her. He was kind to my sisters, to me and to her. He was different and while I felt it, I wasn't sure I could trust it, but little by little, fear subsided and faith started to take root. One year after their first date, they were married. On their wedding day, she told me she was still very afraid. She asked me "what if I'm wrong, what if he isn't what I think he is". I can still see her in her beautiful cream wedding dress he paid for. I can see her beautiful face. She was afraid, but moved forward anyway. I'm sure deep down, she felt he was different. But I also know she didn't trust herself. I held her hand and told her it was good, that she was beautiful and this was the right choice. I felt some of her fear myself, but pushed those fears aside and together we moved forward, out of the bathroom and down the isle.
This began a new era in our family and each of our lives. Over the next several years, each of us would see a man actively loving our mother. Each of us would find our own way to trust him and allow him to love us and love him back. He opened his arms and took us each in, one by one. He is one of the most influential men of my life and he was the man the therapist told me I needed. In those first years of therapy, the therapist told me that there were good men in the world, but that I didn't have much experience with them and had a hard time recognizing them. I now understand what he meant and know that this man is one of the finest men ever. My mom finally had what she deserved. She was safe. She was taken care of. She was loved and I could take a deep breathe of relief.
I’ve often wondered if my mother’s new life changed the trajectory of mine. I’ve imagined that if she had remained in the same chaos that I would have made different choices for myself and my children. I think that because my mom was in a stable place, I started seeing different options for myself. I had her back as a parent that I could rely on to some extent. The shift was starting to take shape. While I didn't conscientiously see the pattern, it was taking place nonetheless. I would go as my mother went. I would learn to stretch and move in similar patterns as she had.
My mom moved into her new husband's home and after a few years together, she had transformed it, just as she had our childhood home. During one family gathering, my new step dad was showing off his new bride's efforts to the attendee's. He declared "Carma can take anything run down, battered, thrown away and turn it into a beautiful masterpiece". It was in that moment I knew he truly saw the amazing woman for who she was. It opened my heart to him and I felt such gratitude for him and for my mom. He saw her strengths and loved them. And I knew God had brought him to her and to the rest of us also.
My mother is a strong woman, a beautiful woman and a woman who has made many mistakes in her life. The addiction that started in early in her life, would take it's toll, but she fought it and found sobriety and clarity. She lost her mother while in her 30's and I often think about that. What if I had lost my mother when I was in my 30's? How many things would I have missed about her? How many lessons has she taught me during the past decades and how many lessons have I relearned by seeing her through different eyes? I am so grateful that I can see my mother, all of her talents, all of her strengths. That I can acknowledge her weaknesses and with compassion, empathy and understanding, look past them to the greater beauty that is this angelic woman, whom God graced me with as my mom. She has been and will always be, an angel.
I looked for a picture that would show her in her beautiful cowboy boots but I didn't find one. Instead, I did a google search for images of them and found one. Check these beauties out!!!
I still think they are beautiful!
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