When I was younger, I remember someone telling me about some language in the world that did not have a word equivalent to "boring" or feeling "bored". It's one of those memories from long ago that feels oddly vivid and vague at the same time. I can't remember who said it or to what language they referred– nor do I even know if it's true– but I do remember my initial response. WOW. What a culture to live in. A place where people are so engaged in the things around them. Where people are so responsible for and connected to their environment and enjoyment of life, they truly lack boredom. I remember my younger self, thinking, "Cool! That's how I want to feel about the world, too."
Where does that come from?
The way we approach life has to start somewhere. We observe, we learn, we mimic, and then we find the version that works for us. I have come to know myself as a person who genuinely finds interest in most things, whether they pertain to my life or not. I don't say this to boast or pat myself on the back. Rather, in this context, I say it maybe to pat someone else on the back a little.
My mom turned 50 this weekend. Naturally, we spent the majority of the past few days celebrating her and all of the light and love she spreads in this world. We laughed and ate and drank and went to the movies and had a big party. She had frequent moments of sentimental tears, so... mission accomplished! A 50th birthday is a big moment to celebrate, and my mom is a special lady to celebrate, and I think we hit the nail on the head.
My mom has taught me countless things, many intentionally and some, I think, without even knowing. She taught me to find joy, and share the joy. She taught me to laugh until I cry, and cry until I feel better. She taught me to rely on God, find my faith, and trust it. My mom literally taught me how to dance, but more importantly, she taught me how to tell my stories. She taught me, perhaps at times to her dismay, to be myself even when the world was working against me. She taught me how to love the things I love with passion, and to go fearlessly after the things I want in this life. I believe she has a great deal to do with my fervor for learning anything and everything and everyone– my lack of "boredom" in this world.
These things certainly weren't learned without encountering our differences. My mom and I have extremely different experiences in the world that shape who we are in a massive way. The older I get, the more I recognize our differences; but I also appreciate them more for what they offer to our relationship. We view the world differently, we understand people differently, we want different things and we have different lives. Those things only add to the canvas of our connection, even when they don't fit quite like a puzzle. We have the opportunity to learn about each other and from each other, and we are lucky enough to have love at the end of the day regardless.
I know I have caused my mother too many moments of agony to count; I assure you I have gotten better with age! I am endlessly grateful for the growth we have experienced together in recent years, and look forward to the future times about which I will want to write. Thank you for taking the time to celebrate a wildly patient, unconditionally loving, and ever-inspiring woman with me. Happy 50th Birthday, Mama, from the bottom of my heart.
