Three Mothers by Sonia Lambert

So I'm reading this book, and it's messing with me a bit. It's been a long time since I've read a work of fiction and been so thought-provoked, or maybe it's "provoked to thought," on issues of relationships and life and dying and eternity. Okay, that's kinda heavy. Maybe I should back up.

First off, I've already told God that my parents are not allowed to die, before I do at least, or at the very least until they've accomplished all the things they're desperate to accomplish, feel called by God to do. That said...

My mom gave me this book for Christmas. It opens with a poem by Phyllis McGinley:

Mothers are the hardest to forgive
Life is the fruit they long to hand you,
Ripe on a plate. And while you live,
Relentlessly they understand you.

I can't remember the last time my mom gave me a novel. At first I was reading it only to please her, even though the poem makes me feel prickly and like I want to argue with it somehow. I started the first chapter three, no four, times; I just couldn't get into it. Somewhere along the way I did, though, and now I have to work to put it down. It's beautifully written, all about the tensions between mothers and daughters. It's pretty intense, but not overwhelmingly so, partly because there's a healthy does of wit and the mundane stuff of life mixed in with the deep. And it doesn't hurt that the author plays her cards up front: in the first chapter the main character's mother (Vera) has just died and and the daughter (Susie) is dealing with the loss. Part the grief process is sharing with us, the readers, the stories of the lives of her mother and grandmother. Each had dictated these to Susie in the weeks before Vera's death. So it's semi-chronologically written. Each person's story is, mostly, in order as it jumps between each women's voice. It works.

But what about my questions? Well, my first reaction when observing the excellent portrayal of a daughter in grief, hopeless, exhausting, all-consuming, was this: "I'm so glad that we have God, and a hope for heaven; this is not the end for my mom and I." Then the question pokes it's head in, not in words of course, but subliminally: "Who am I to presume that I am - my mom and I are - in the right and they - the author and characters - are in the wrong? Who is to say that there is something after this?" I dwell on this for a few pages in the back of mind, then later it comes to me. How come in every culture there is the instinct for mothers to nurse their young. It's only when this activity hinders modern, rational, mechanized life that it is discarded or smothered. This is similar to faith and the search for the eternal. They got in the way of our understanding, or our understanding was too small for them, and so they were discarded, are squelched, until in moments of sheer panic even this young, post-modern, post-Christian main character Susie "made bargains" in her head, "Please God, at least five. Please God, make it ten."

So I've solved the problem of God and heaven, being there and all! :) But what about my mom and I? This book feels like good medicine, like something that's hard to swallow but I think will help our relationship. I'm sure I won't be able to identify with motherhood entirely until I experience it myself, but I am again made grateful for own mother's accomplishments. No, that's the wrong word. Successes? Abilities? Goodness? Motherly-ness?!?

I'm not sure how the fictional story will end yet, either, but it's a good read. There are some great lines, some poignant observations, and the author brings her characters to face death without the hope of an afterlife head on. As of yet, there's neither a Romantic spin on the beauty of it all or a superstitious bent of somehow existing after death sans God. While I can't agree with the author's assumptions, I admire her courage to stand with them even when it's uncomfortable. So, yeah, I'll let you know how it goes. Just had to get it all out of my head. Thanks for reading.

happy memory

I just learned that this month marks the 50th anniversary of the plastic LEGO brick. An even more random fact: According to LEGO.com, "today’s LEGO bricks still fit bricks from 1958." I remember lots of happy hours making LEGO cars and trucks and police motorcycles. I think I still have that somewhere, even... And yes, I have a little, very little, tomboy streak in me. :)

"a new post"

Thanks to Lance's January 19th post over at the Chi Alpha, Montana blog, I'm feeling guilty enough to post again! But seriously, I've been thinking about posting this slideshow since the beginning of the month. For any folks not here in Missoula and otherwise unfamiliar with what I do here, this might help you get a better idea of the work I do with the students at the University of Montana. I hope you enjoy it. Happy 2008!

Look for me with a chainsaw. Never fear: I didn't actually use it!