My Ma, as I like to call her, loves me to a fault-- if at all possible. She has loved me through some very hard times and loved me through the times where the wind was at my back and I felt like I was soaring.
Yesterday was Ma's birthday... she survived another year of loving a stubborn, driven, emotional, challenging, free spirited child. She deserves to be celebrated more than just for one day. I have not always been a huge fan of my Ma's love, in fact, there has been times where I didn't want to feel it and wanted to run from it--- but if there is one thing I know more than anything else in the world today it is that my Ma loves me ferociously and despite whatever foes I believe to have in myself.
My Ma deserves a standing ovation for how hard she loves and the example she gives to not only myself, but to many others about the purity of a mother's love for her children.
I am rarely at a loss for words when it comes to my writing... but I truly believe that words cannot express how much I appreciate the Lord giving me to her to be her daughter... but I am going to give it a try:
Since I was a child, my mother and I were more often at odds than not... but I even when we were at odds as a small child I would wake her up and go jump on her while she was in bed. She would let me sit on her knees that she had propped up and play the 'horsey' game. I cherish those memories of those quiet mornings together because no matter what the day before held or the day ahead, we started our day in laughter.
As I grew older, the wooden spoon was not my friend and I threatened more than once to run away-- but only after I had dinner. (trickster she was...) I was a fearless stubborn child that pushed all the limits I possibly could without knowing and sometimes even with the knowledge because, well what kind of strong willed child would I be if I didn't push all the limits? With each step closer to the line, Ma would not only still tickle my back at night and sing me to sleep, she would remind me she loved me.
And that she does.
As the years went by I challenged her (and my father, but mainly her) in many different ways... I was not the daughter I am sure she had hoped for as I became less happy with shopping and more happy with being outdoors or with my dad. I has my own sense of 'fashion' that was not exactly close to hers at all, but she still loved me enough to swallow her fashion senses and let me dress myself.
We fought, oh we fought during my teenage years... we tore each other down and refused to surrender our stances. And even during those hard days when I didn't really understand why I was such a problem, my mother still loved me. She began to love me in different ways. She started a prayer group for mothers so that she could be encouraged and so that strong women of faith could come together in their pains and pray for each other, but more importantly pray for children like myself. She loved me so hard, I am sure every time they met she cried for me as well as herself as we suffered so much from a lack of ability to get along well with each other.
Years past, and Ma watched me struggle with friendships, relationships, and simply life... she was and still is always my first call when things feel like the end of the world.
Looking back now I am able to clearly see how beautifully she has loved me.
Ma has been my backbone when I didn't know I needed one. She has cheered me on unselfishly and without question when I believed in what I was doing and the battles I was fighting due to my passions-- she has unselfishly relinquished cherished holidays for my sake so that I could have them around when I was working. Ma has loved me when I pushed her away in ways that I could not imagine (part of the not having my own children thing I guess), worried nights on end about me, cried countless tears for me, and still put on a smile and tried to cook my favorite meals when I came home.
Words do not do her justice- do not do her love justice.
In my years, in my ups and downs, I now can say without hesitation that my mother, Jamie Dawson Barksdale, has always loved me more than I deserve. I can also say, with a little bit of hesitation because I am still who I am, that I am my mother's daughter in so many beautifully complex ways.
I know my love, my emotions, and my gift to feel so deeply is from her. I know that my jealousy for those I love, my 'motherly spirit' that has won me the honored name of 'Ma' with some friends of mine is from her and her alone. I boast in the love she has for me, despite the heartache that it may cause both of us.
I am forever grateful for the unconditional love of my sweet mother-- because she could have easily given up on me, but she has chosen over and over again to keep at it knowing that one day I will be better for it.
I know that I am not in a great place, I know that right now we likely have the same tear count for what I am going through-- and for that, I cannot thank the sweet Lord above more because I am never alone in my trails. No matter how much I would like to think I am alone in it and facing these giants on my own-- she is standing in the shadows praying, loving, and fighting with me.
I pray that I am able to love half the way she loves her children and I am so thankful she has never once given up on me.
I love you, Jamie Lynn Dawson Barksdale.
Thank you for being my mother and for all that means.
Happy belated birthday.
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