"Parents Do the Best They Can With What They Have"

I wrote the note below to my friend a few months ago on the day of her mom's funeral.  Her parents died only a few months apart and it was a very difficult time for her emotionally.  She'd had a difficult relationship with her mom at times, and I was so impressed with how she was able to forgive her mom and open her heart to loving her, wholly and unconditionally as her mom's health deteriorated and as her mom needed more care.  

I have some days where I harbor a lot of frustration and resentment towards my parents and it is very hard to become detached from it.  Reading this letter and recalling how my friend was able to find the strength too love her mom and forgive her inspires me to look at my parents with love and work on being a more patient person who does not get "pulled into" arguments and repeat the old familiar cycles of fights and arguments.     I hope to be more like my friend; more forgiving, and leave the resentment and anger behind.  Here is my note to her:    

Dear XXXXX,

My mother always says “Parents do the best they can with what they have” and I sincerely believe that. You have always had so much unwavering faith, love, and respect for your parents and have lived by this principal. While I have tended, over the years, to have lost respect for my parents during their bitter divorce, you have always focused on the positive with both your parents and looked to forgive; even when it was a painful process to do so. You embody the principals of forgiveness, love, kindness, and redemption.

I want to say thank you for showing me what it's like to give a parent a second chance and forgive them, even if you have had a rough road with them and a difficult past. I want to say thank you for showing me that forgiveness can plant the seeds of kindness that yield a wonderful and nurturing relationship that might have been lacking in the past. I want to say thank you for teaching me, with your actions that it's OK to respect and love someone that has hurt you, because you can acknowledge their own struggles and see past the pain, to their love, and how happy, and maybe even relived they are to have that love returned.

You are an amazing daughter. Don't ever forget that. In this very crazy journey of life, you figured out the child-parent part and got it right. Congratulations, most people don't. Your parents did the best they could with what they had, and they did an amazing job. You should be proud and happy and feel blessed to have had the time that you have had with them. I am so sorry they are gone, and that we are here today to mourn the loss of your Mom, but when I look at the sum total of the gifts they have given you, your sense of resiliency and purpose, your independence and fierce love for your family, and the sometimes painful road that you have traveled to heal emotionally, I see someone I love, I see someone I am so proud of, and I know they are proud of her as well.

So, How Does One "Take a "Mental Picture?"

Years ago, I was out with friends and we were at the beach.  Ok, the Jersey shore, or DTS.  We were enjoying a sunset, the waves, and the calm serenity of the ocean.    It was such a nice day, full of memory-making moments and this was no exception.

"I wish I had a camera to capture this." said my friend sadly.

"Just take a mental picture and store it in your treasure chest of memories." I blurted out.  Or something equally dorky.  I am not sure if I used the "treasure chest" gem (that has been known to come out when I am in a warm and reflective mood) but the mental picture comment definitely did.  I got teased about it ever since.  My friends joked about it for years.

"Hey, don't bring the camera to the wedding, Lisa will take mental pictures!"

It was funny, and revealved how hokey my comment was.  But, nowadays we are so plugged in, wired, and connected; who couldn't benefit from stepping back and taking a mental picture?  That moment you wake up and see the fog in the trees, your kid's smile when you send them off, the bird flying effortlessly through the trees, the shade of the sun as it dips through the sky....so many moments we can take mental pictures of, so many moments forgotten.

In February 2012, I gave birth to my son Matthew, via emergency C-Section.  He was 7 weeks premature, and weighed only 2 pounds 15 ounces.  Still groggy from my anesthesia, I asked my doctor point blank if he would live.  "I think that is something you need to speak with his doctors about", she said nervously, and left the room.  His first surgery was three days later.  Five surgeries later, he's alive, thriving and amazing.  I decided to write this blog as a way of "taking mental pictures" of my amazing and miraculous son, our lives in general, and as a daily reminder of how blessed we are, so we can look back on these "little moments" and celebrate them.  Also, I like to curse like a sailor on occasion, so be warned, I bet a few of these mental pictures might have an F word in them. LOL and XO, Lisa