I’d like to tell you about somebody. Maybe you know her. She’s not uncommon. It is perhaps why we don’t talk about her that much. Maybe she’s your mother, your aunt, a sister, or friend of the family. She calls on Christmas. On the rare times you visit, she’s always good to you. She’s getting older now and she’s tired much more than she should be for age. Still she keeps going even if she herself isn’t always sure why.
She was raised in a pretty traditional household. Raised on Christian values, but not too overtly as there was too much work to do during the day to worry too much about it. She learned good morals in her upbringing, she learned to work hard, and she learned what love is. But she never knew herself really. Normal was that a woman didn’t get that many choices in life. Women, as far as she could tell was for others. She wasn’t the oldest of her siblings either, so never got to do anything first. She flew below the radar most of the time, but never really made any special attempts to get attention. She just accepted her place in this world. As a result of remaining in the background and assuming she belonged there, she never really got to know herself. She was probably a bit smarter than her other siblings, or at least had her talents. Maybe it was cooking, decorating, or sewing. She would learn to use them, but never really thought they were anything special. Never really let them be a source of pride for her, even though you could tell that it made her happy to do them. Her true talent was probably much further than what she showed. Cooking could have easily turned into a career in nutrition and diet, decorating could have turned into interior design, sewing could have turned into fashion. Those jobs were for people with big dreams. She was in no kind of position in life to have big dreams. And for the most part she was just happy to be close to family and love the people in her world.
She was good at loving others, but never really good at finding someone to love her. Even at the best of times she never felt as pretty as she was. Love was something you’d probably just grow into. She got married when she was young, because that’s what you did. Someone was paying attention to her and it felt nice. His drinking problem? Well…everybody drank. But eventually it did get too bad, and her family who always loved her helped her to get out before it got worse. She did, with child in hand. She kept looking for love, but hadn’t really learned what she did wrong the first time. She knew that life was hard being a single mom, and a fear of being alone kept creeping up on her. So she found someone else. Someone who paid attention to her that could help her financially and lighten the load. She believed once again that if she just loved, good things would come of it. This time there were bruises, and the family helped her get away again, a second child in hand. It was best to go it alone for a while she figured, it was even harder now. If she wanted to get to know herself, she’d have to find the time. With two children and a full time job to support them who has the time to find themselves?
She still had her family, and she loved them a lot. Siblings and nephews and nieces, she always gave love without question. She was never the cool aunt, she was never the funny sibling, but she knew how to listen and she knew how to laugh. Her children were the world to her, even if they didn’t quite understand why she couldn’t always be there for her. The mystery that all children whose parents are always working live with. She’d do anything for them, except perhaps be tough with them. When they hit their teenage rebelliousness she couldn’t follow through with the discipline. What if they hated her? What if they abandoned her? How alone would she be then? She loved them and never wanted to push hard. She traded their respect for their company, but she never stopped loving them. And even if they had a bit of a tough road, her kids turned out to be good people, but perhaps still feeling a little lost, without really knowing why.
With children grown and gone she was once again alone. She was older now…certainly not as attractive. Years of hard work, with only food as an indulgence had taken its toll on her body. But she put on her hope cap, and the young girl inside her went looking for love again. Still not really knowing who she was, she couldn’t find anybody who really appreciated her. Just another man who was once again happy to have a quiet, compliant partner. For just a little attention she didn’t need to be respected. She seemed content to just have another living human being in the house so she didn’t have to be alone. And maybe she would have walked away again, but that body who worked hard and was still trying to work hard didn’t have much energy for walking once the day was done. And who had the energy for trying love once more? So she resigned herself to just the emotional bruises every now and then, to have somebody else’s voice to talk to every once in a while. She wouldn’t die alone. She still believes in God, but mostly out of habit. She’s really not sure if any other options make any more sense.
She still loves others well, whether they deserve it or not, and it is still uncertain how much she loves herself.
I love this woman. She’s not uncommon. Perhaps you know her. Perhaps you remember her. Maybe she has always loved you. Don’t be afraid to love her back. It can only make her happy.