I have been extraordinarily lucky in my life. From the minutest detail to the broadest concept, I thoroughly believe that I was raised to believe in fundamental goodness. I think there is no better example in my life of this than my stepmother, who I refer to as my mother as well. She was the greatest influence in my life for years.
From learning to scuba dive, to driving to boarding school, to buying a prom dress, to her patience in listening to me that Guess jeans really did fit better, to the help with my Commodore 64 programming, to her devotion to watching my soccer games, to her willingness to wipe my tears away, listen to my tantrums and tell me, "You are ok." She embodies kindness, gentleness and warmth and she is perhaps the first person in my life who made me realize I was loveable.
But she did not only positively influence me...she reached out to my friends. For Cindy who could not stand her mother, she filled in. To Eileen who also just needed to know--you are fine just the way you are, and Fwae who always felt like the outsider and Carrie who just needed to know that something different was possible. My stepmother provided a way of being in motion that gave strength to my friends, that lent them courage, that validated them...that she listened.
This is perhaps the most crucial part of parenting. Having been a parent for five and half years, the most difficult lesson has been to learn patience, to ensure that a child feels heard and not judged, that they have their independence--but know if they fall someone will be there to pick them up. I was lucky to have a person with great depth in my life to provide this...someone who allowed me to be me, and pushed me indirectly to look broadly...who asked questions not to provoke antagonistic lines of thought, but to illustrate that things are interwoven and not separate.
As children we are sure no one feels as we do, no one has experienced the joy or the pain we have felt in moments...and we are certain even though we recognize how ridiculous it is--we remain certain that adults could never understand. I remember thinking that way...I remember knowing I was incorrect...I remember trying to get away with the fallacy. But with my stepmother, I didn't need to do this. I had no doubt she understood--even when I wished she didn't--I knew she did. And at times I hated the fact that she could see right through me, i resented her ability to do that, but fundamentally I was relieved that someone saw me at the core--someone recognized me that deeply...and that she loved every ounce of me.
To feel a parents love day in and day out is an incredible security blanket. Where my biological mother failed, my stepmother stepped right in and stepped it up. No matter what it was, she was there--always even in my ridiculous, childish, tantrum moments--she was there (hopefully laughing under the surface). And later when I finally matured, when I started becoming my own person and independent and eventually successful, she is the one force in my life that I can fall back on outside my immediate famiy circle. Others are there, but the relationships is different. My stepmother was the saving grace of my childhood...in many ways, she is the person who if people ask, I point to and say, "If you ask me why--it is because of the kindness of this person who chose to love and accept me for me."
A very happy birthday to you Lambda--my mother, my security blanket. I hope I have made you proud and I do hope you see yourself in me . . . well the good parts anyway!