The other night while I was on the computer my mom called. After a few minutes she said, "You know what I think you should do Vanessa? I think your family should give up TV for Lent. Then you could walk the dog, read together as a family and work on your marriage."
I sighed deeply and rested my head on the keyboard. First of all, I thought it was just Catholics who gave up stuff for Lent? Not us pseudo-Lutherans. I'm pretty sure the only thing we need to excel at are the ability to make a minimum of three hotdishes that contain cream of mushroom soup, and being able to whip up a batch of lemon bars for a funeral with just an hour's notice. I'm not good at sacrificing things, especially those that involve food and/or vices. My hips can attest to that.
At Christmas time my mother also admonished me for not bringing the kids to church every Sunday. "I mean, your son didn't even know it was Jesus' birthday!"
"Oh he does, too," I told her. "He was probably just under a lot of pressure from the Grandparents Inquisition."
She kept on. "You know, you need to be bringing these kids every single Sunday. We did that when you kids were growing up!"
"I know," I said. "And I ended up hating having to go and now I hardly ever step foot in a church."
She was less than impressed with my reasoning.
I mean, hey... my older girls go to confirmation and have a bible with their names on it and can recite all sorts of verses. By sending them every week it's one more thing I can check off the parental-duty list and appease my relatives. I consider myself religious, but I have some profound questions about organized religion, especially how the bible was written and interpreted. When my kids were really little, I used to say we were "Chreasters" (Christmas and Easter only). Then they got older and we got more busy and now I use a phrase that I heard once: The BMB club. Baptism, Marriage and Burial. That's when we go to church. None of those terms amuse my mother. The older she gets the more likely she is to give her opinions. She learned it from HER mother, my Grandma Tillie.
Everyone who has ever met Tillie absolutely loves her. She has a heart of gold and an incredible spirit. She also doesn't hold back when something's on her mind. It's part of her charm.
Years ago, when my oldest was only a few months old, I needed Tillie to babysit for an hour or two while I ran errands. I quickly vacuumed up all the stinky dog hair and put the vacuum cleaner in my bedroom, with the windows closed and zero ventilation. After I ran my errands I came back and asked Tillie how everything went.
"Say, Vanessa," she said leaning forward. "I went into your bedroom and BOY does it smell bad. I had to open up the windows to air that room out. Oh, and your baby's head is flat on one side."
Duly noted. Thanks Grandma.
I'm a grown woman now and capable of making my own decisions. That still doesn't stop me from tensing my shoulders when my mother gives advice. Who knows what she's going to suggest? First church attendance, then what? Next thing I know some relative is going to suggest I give up my occasional Vicadin-for-fun.
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