The Crazy Mom

You may have noticed (or not) that I was absent for a few days. Those days were filled with basement progress and some warm weather/ outdoor pool fun. (I'll pop up some pics of the reno tomorrow.)

Last night, we had a slightly spontaneous girls' night out. By "slightly" I mean that some of us (yes, me) needed a little more than one hour's notice, but were able to pull it off with a day's notice.

I was positively giddy as I bid my family good-night and headed out the door! I think I even made Pat giggle. It has been a while...

We enjoyed far too much food, a bit of shoe shopping, and a very girly movie. By "very" I mean that the entire theatre echoed with the sounds of women sniffling, nose blowing, and giggling at themselves through their tears.

We saw My Sister's Keeper. I would give it two thumbs up for story line and emotional satisfaction, but one thumb down (if I had three thumbs, that is) for using the Lord's name in vain repeatedly (even the children in the movie) and a bit of teenage sexuality. If you haven't heard of it, the story is that of a girl who was conceived with the purpose of being a donor to save her older sister from cancer.

The ethical ramifications of genetically engineering a baby in order to help save your other child are huge. Regardless of whether or not I would take those same measures, though, I understood that mother's heart.

Throughout the movie, this mother was depicted as a little crazed and highly controlling. When her children or husband tried to express a view that did not match hers, you could feel the tension in the theatre as we all waited for the explosion. I know there were people watching the movie thinking to themselves, "That woman is nuts! I can't believe she's doing this! She is going to destroy her family and ruin her children forever." I know it because those same thoughts crossed my mind.

But at this one moment where she lost all control, I had a revelation. She wasn't a crazy woman out to control everyone's lives. She was afraid. Terrified. This was a mother whose greatest fear - losing a child - was playing out in front of her eyes. And she was doing everything she could to not let her child slip away.

My heart moved from judgement to a deep compassion. I understood that fear...those reactions. On a much smaller scale, I became her only a few short weeks ago when faced with Braeden's school change.

We women are so hard on one another, so quick to judge. Yet the things we criticise in other women are so often things we ourselves think, say, or do - and we hate them (and ourselves for them).

How much more willing would I be to come alongside another woman if I viewed her actions from a heart of compassion instead of my pedestal of judgement? How much lighter would her burden feel if I encouraged her rather than looked down on her?

Next time I see a mother parenting in a way that I don't understand or agree with, I hope I will remember that I could be just one tiny life change away from being in her shoes. In fact, I've been the crazy mom before; it just depends on the day.