Rich? Absolutely not, but financially secure.
Growing up and still today, we were and remain so very blessed not to have ever worried about where our next meal would come from, where we would sleep, and most important to me - who would share their love with me and help protect me when I'm in need.
In fact, my earliest memory is of someone I love protecting me.
I wasn't even three, yet, when I was walking up the sidewalk of what I remember to be my grandmother's house (but it may have actually been my aunt's), when she came running out with a rolled up newspaper and just as I heard the screen door slam behind her, she smacked me over the head with the paper.
That's all I remember, and, like me, I'm sure you're thinking, "How is that loving, kind and protective?"
Later in life, I shared that memory with my mom, who couldn't believe I actually remembered that incident. Mom said, "Sydney Lea!," and I thought I was in trouble for bringing up some kind of story that had become taboo. But after she stopped laughing, Mom told me that my grandmother wasn't smacking me, she was striking a bee that had landed on my head. She had been standing at the door, watching me waddle my way up the sidewalk and saw the bee land on my head.
My grandmother passed away only a few months later, on my third birthday - as she and I were having a pretend tea party with my new plastic toy tea set. I'm so glad I told my mom about the memory and she cleared things up for me, because my only two memories of this hard-working, single-mother of seven are those two - her hitting me on the head and her passing.
My mother's entire life was dedicated to her family - serving and protecting. She once said to me, "You should have big dreams, but know how to be happy with the simple things, too."
Those simple things included laying on a blanket in the front yard and looking at the clouds as my younger sister and I told her what we saw, building a tent under a folding table and sipping Kool-Aid, naps on the cool terrazzo floor, and coming home from school to find Mother belting out church hymns while ironing.
What brought me to this place today? Writing this particular post?
My memory was jogged last night as I heard the jingle of someone's charm bracelet.
Mom's life of love is reflected in her charm bracelet; among them, a charm for every child and grandchild, a charm showing her faith in Christ, and a family tree. Each charm is a not-so-secret key that unlocks a part of my mother's dreams for each of us. While the charms are simple, their symbolism is grand.
Mother gifted me my charm bracelet when I was 13, and one of the first charms she gave me was of a sewing machine, to help instill a love of sewing. Mom used to talk of how her mother made clothes from gunny sacks. For my sixteenth birthday she gave me a charm of hands folded, telling me that God answers prayer. When I got married, she gave me a charm of our wedding invitation in miniature and then did the same with our son's birth certificate when he was born. Like Mom, the story of what's most important to me still today can be told through the simple charms on a bracelet.
I've accomplished many of the big dreams my mother had for me, including (the best) being a mother, myself. My hope is that I've also passed on to my son an appreciation for the simple things in life; that the jingle of someone's jewelry reminds him of my own charm bracelet of memories from simpler times.
Everyday I love and miss you, Mom -- Thank you for instilling in me an appreciation for the simple things.
