Every May, we celebrate Mother’s Day.
This year, I want to take a moment to thank Momma. (I know she won’t see this post, but I’m thanking her anyway.)
Now, if you know my story, right now you’re probably goin’, “Whoa, girl! What in the world do you have to thank her for?? Didn’t she throw you out on the streets? Didn’t she hurt you??”
Yes. She did.
But she was also the vessel that God used to breathe life into me.
She carried me. She birthed me. And I SEE differently now, sis.
I understand that she really did love me …
She loved me enough to let me go.
I remember when we lived in Ft. Worth, Texas. I was about14 or 15 years old. I was sitting in the living room, just zoned out. I was numb. And I was bone TIRED, sis. I had given up.
The truth of it was this: I was perpetually waiting for the next blow—literally waiting for my life to end.
That day in the living room, the sadness had taken over, and my will to live was evaporating right in front of Momma’s eyes as she looked at me. She stared at me for a long time before finally saying, “Venus, I am going to send you back to Baltimore. You are not happy here.” It was like I was hearing her voice, her words, from underwater.
I repeated what I thought I heard her say: “You mean … you mean I’m going home?” And she said, “Yes.”
I started to cry, even though I had made it a practice to never cry in front of Momma. It showed weakness, and Momma had a tendency to strike when I showed weakness.
But the kindness she showed me that one, single day cracked my heart wide open.
I remember how she got down on her knees, gathering my frail body in her arms (I had stopped eating, talking, and sleeping; I was wasting away). I remember her saying, “I am so sorry, Punchy. I am going to do right by you.”
And the tears came harder. I sat there and cried, in Momma’s arms.
This is the memory that lets me love Momma.
I look back now, and I see how love is still love, even if it LOOKS completely different than what we are taught. Even if it looks nothing like everyone else’s version of love … even if it is tempered with pain.
And there is ALWAYS a reason to be grateful.
For me, today, I see that Momma loved me the best she could, and I AM grateful.
Yes, I have healed my heart around Momma, and I thank GOD for that. It lets me see her the way I do today, writing this post.
And that healing also allows me to love you, sis.
If you have daughters, or do business with women, take the case that until you heal your relationship with you Momma, you will act it out on your children in some way. You will also distrust women who remind you of your mother, which can kill of entire revenue streams. #realtalk #ihavewalkedthis
What about you, sis? Have you ever had to heal YOUR heart, with YOUR Momma? What did you learn from your experience? Please share below, so we can bear witness.
OR – give a shout out to your Momma—whom holds that space for you—imperfect as she may be here … in honor of this month of celebrating Mothers.
With all the love my heart can hold…