Liz's Lesson Learned: A Promise...Who Knows?

This is one of those times when I miss my Mom.  I mean, I really miss her; not in a sad, depressed way.  Actually, tears of joy moisten my cheeks as I remember the life she lived and just how influential she was in my life.  Yes, I cried buckets when I was asked to put the grave covering over her stiff/cold body.  Well, after all that was the point when I knew it was final and she had moved to the next stage of her eternal life…  

Thinking of Mom, I realize just how much I enjoy celebrating Mother’s Day.  I love watching my daughters bask in the glow of being recognized by their children.  I know I will get the best gift of just spending time with them.  Even though they are now in Spokane, Washington, and New York, I am never disappointed by the time they spend with me.  

My thinking is all over the place, and I don’t know why, but it just popped into my mind that if I should need it, my children will do a pretty good job of caring for me in my old age…  I know the time came when I took care of my Mom, and I am so grateful I was able to do so.  This makes me think of a promise I wrote about when I was very young.  I smile and shudder a little because that promise, while a good idea, sure caused me a great deal of grief when I wrote it…

This happened during a time that goes back to just before I landed a summer job in a play. It was before I began singing solos. It was even before I began preaching.  Let’s face it, I was not going out on a limb to share my opinion in public about anything.  I was just too inhibited, and I was in my awkward-looking stage.

The time is somewhere during the 1976-77 school year when I was in the 11th grade.  English was, and still is, one of the requirements for receiving a high school diploma.  I was doing well in most of my classes. By this time, one of the main things about school was getting good grades so I could get into college.  Oh, there was lots of fun, but you had to get the grades.  Now, the grade I got in my or science was not quite as important as the one I got in English.  Receiving an A’ or maybe a ‘B’ was my goal in every class, but definitely in English.

Putting things together, this promise, the 11^th grade, and English make up the setting.  In 11^th grade, I felt my English teacher was excellent. I loved being in her class, and I loved doing my best work.  She challenged us to read the classics.  She seemed to know if we read Cliff Notes instead of the book.  We shared ideas in class, but most of our assignments were written and turned in to her for grading.  

So, when we were given the assignment to write about our parents, I received an ‘A+’ on my essay. I can't remember all I wrote, but I do remember talking about planning to take care of and provide for my parents.  I thought I was just being honest and writing a piece that came from my heart. I was thankful for the A+. Very few red marks, and I had my teacher’s nice note praising the great job I had done. 

While basking in the glow, things turned sour. My teacher decided that I needed to share that paper with my classmates. Most of them were my friends, but I dreaded talking in front of people.  Being made fun of was always possible, and I just wanted to avoid it. Happy to receive the grade.  Love the idea of promising to care for my parents, and I would too.  But this here was impossible.  How could a good plan go so wrong!!! 

I shrank into my seat.  It didn’t help that she was telling the class wonderful things about my writing.  That was intended for her, not the class!!  All I heard was, "Read your paper to the class."  

“It’s just a paper.  I may not even be able to do any of it”, I agonized.

“Come read your paper, Elizabeth.”

I said, “no”, and I sat in my seat, and I looked down at my hands. 

But she just kept insisting.

I don't want to do this; I don't want to do this. 

And then, she took out her grade book, pointed the red pen, and said, “Right now, you have an 'A+'.  Every time I ask you to come and read, and you don't, I'm going to drop your grade.” 

“What?! This is my favorite teacher. How is she doing this to me?! I'm sitting there shaking my head. She ticked off a few, and I had a ‘B’. She ticked off again.   Next thing I knew, I had a ‘C’.  Now, the tears are rolling down my cheeks, and I'm feeling more and more vulnerable.  Just what is going on here? This is my favorite teacher!

As she prepared to give me a ‘D’, I gave up.  On wobbly legs, I came forward and read that paper.  

Today, I may not remember what it was about, but I sure do remember shaking, and crying, and I was looking down at the paper and hoping that my classmates weren’t laughing. But when I finished, they all kind of clapped.  Imagine that.

I promised to care. For years, my Mom took care of me.  Yes, the time did come when I cared for my Mom.  So, the promise was kept.  

Now, it is May 2026.  That crazy day is over, and I’d like to share these thoughts of my Mom:

This may be obvious, but we don’t get to choose who our mother will be.  There’s a higher power that takes care of that.  So, I asked myself, and I ask you, just what would you want mother to be.  What did I decide?  

I want a mother who would see the beauty in me.  I want a mother who would stand up for rights that affect me even before I was thought of.  A mother who stands up for me when others look away.  A mother who lived through Jim Crow, civil rights, segregation, racism, and still would raise me to believe I could be anything I want to be.  A mother who would teach by example that Jesus is real and that he will deliver.  I want a mother who would discipline with care and love me so much so that I would yearn to sit at her feet and listen to her.   I want a mother who I would always love to be around.  I wanted a mother who I would want to care for when she couldn’t care for herself.  I want a mother who could be my mother and my friend.  I want a mother who may not hug me physically at every turn, but whose hugs were felt no matter where I was.  I want a mother who made feel safe and unaware of so much of the turmoil and evil that permeated the world I grew up in.   I want a mother who would bring me up in the way of the Lord so much so that as an grown woman I would not stray far from it.  I want a mother who would sing the songs of Zion and allow me to watch her grow closer and closer to Jesus. I want a mother who would look down from heaven and be pleased with who I have become as a mother.   I want a mother who’s last words to me would be “Can I go to be with Jesus, now?”  I want a mother who I would want to be like when I had children and grandchildren of my own. That’s the mother I want.  And guess what?  That’s the mother I had and she was sooooo much more!

I’m so glad I kept that promise.