What Makes Mom “Mom”
Sometimes our mother’s quirks are what makes them so memorable. Here is one of my Mom memories. What little odd things does or did your Mom do?
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Losing Your Mary
Christmas is softening New York City…literally. A dusting of snow has cheered even the crustiest among us who can’t help but whisper, ‘Isn’t it beautiful?’
But the sparkle of new fallen snow can cloak feelings that are sharper this time of year…the keen edge of missing those we’ve loved and lost.
I received this touching letter today from a God Box reader, a woman who lost her Mary too.
Dear Mary Lou,
I just finished reading your book The God Box. It really touched my heart in a special way. I lost my own mother, also named Mary two years ago. My nickname for her was Marmie too. She was a devoted Catholic who reminds me of your mom with her continual prayers. I always had her praying for me – I thought her prayers worked better then mine! We were also best friends like you and your mom. What’s uncanny is they had the same blood disorder. I watched my own mother go through the same lab draws, blood transfusions and chemotherapy as your mom. Your book really helped me to know I’m not alone in the pain of losing your best friend who in turn is your mother. It helped me continue to grieve. Thank you so much.
God bless you!
C.
Dallas, Texas
Enjoy this lovely season but please remember to look out for those in your life who are feeling a little lost or left behind in the bustle. There are never enough hugs. No matter how many Christmases go by.
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September 12: National MPN Awareness Day
I know my Mom never thought she would see the day that her rare blood cancer actually had its own DAY, but today, September 12 is National MPN Awareness Day dedicated to the disease that she lived with for 20 years. Mom had mylefibrosis which is one of the three blood cancers designated as MPN (myeloproliferative neoplasms). I am grateful that the Cancer Support Community is partnering with the MPN Coalition to help patients and families deal with these mysterious and little known cancers. Mom would be glad, that’s for sure. More information here if you’d like to learn more and help.
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Texting 9 to 5: A Generational Throwdown
Lately, I have noticed that my Gen Y colleagues have been spending more and more time pecking away at their mobile phones during the work day, (a boomer pet peeve that I have learned to live with). I assumed my millennial partners were exchanging one-liners or plotting cool parties with friends but in today’s Wall St. Journal, I learned that the person most often on the other end of the text is a mom.
Seems that twentysomething’s are g-chatting parents, mostly moms, as often as 20 times a day, just to dish on the sly or to share an indignity of office life. The article didn’t question whether daylong cubicle texting is a career-enhancing move but instead, asked whether the younger generation ought to be dumping work issues in mom’s lap rather than building independent problem-solving skills. After my initial eye-roll’s, I realized that I have actually embraced this digital reality and can even see the good in this changed office etiquette.
First things first. When I was climbing the corporate ladder (yes, and I walked barefoot to school in the snow), personal phone calls were NOT allowed. If Mom called, which she didn’t because she thought I would get in trouble, I would rush to hushed tones and hang up with promises of “I’ll call you tonight!” I’d been taught that the boss was paying for my attention to the job, not to my personal life.
But that was back when my workdays used to end at 6PM and when that same boss rarely, (make that never), called me at home at night. And there was no email. Can I say that again? There was no email. Today’s jobs aren’t 9 to 5 and haven’t been for years. Work summons us with the beep on the bedside table and haunts us with the last blink of night, while emails pile up on the pillow. So, with the workplace boundaries widened, the window for daytime personal duties opens. So I’ve decided I can get over my reflexive cringe at the sight of a clutched iPhone and admit that I like to text from my desk too–my husband, my friends, my to-do’s zip seamlessly in and out of my day. (Oh, how I would love to still have my Mom to text to!) Distracting? Yes. But helpful. And hard to kick. And I’m the boss, so why not? And if so, why not, others on the team?
And while at first, I felt annoyed reading about young-un’s running to mom with every office bruise, on second thought, maybe it’s not a bad idea. While it’s critical that we learn coping and negotiation skills early on, there’s nothing wrong with turning to “the source” for advice. I know I talked to Mom every night about every little nick and achievement. One friend said to me that her daughter texts her the moment her lunch break begins, her cue to lay out all her morning frustrations. And my friend’s responses are usually wise: “Give it some time.” “Think about why that might have happened.” “Next time, try this approach.” Sound, thoughtful perspective or, one might say, skills training, which let’s face it, is rarely coming from the boss who can barely keep up with her/his own email avalanche. So, as long as the digital umbilical cord doesn’t extend into the performance appraisal session (“But she’s was so smart in fifth grade!!!”), I welcome the life line of Mom, AKA career coach. If the job gets done, I’m good with it. Ping away!
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Every show, Mom and Dad are closer to me
The question I am asked most often is: How do you do this, again and again? Aren’t you emotionally exhausted or just ready to cry?” No. Every show, Mom and Dad are closer to me. And nothing makes me happier. Hope you will check out the events tab on the home page to see when the show is coming to your area! Or write to me at hello@thegodboxproject.comand perhaps I can travel to your town!
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“My Mom was just like yours!”
Last weekend I performed “The God Box” play at the Connelly, an Off-Off Broadway theatre in NYC. The overflow audience told me that the story brings back the memories of the “Mary” or “Ray” in their lives, such as “My Mom was just like yours!” A friend said that the show was particularly moving to see on the one year anniversary of losing her Dad. Check out the events tab on the home page to see when the show is coming to your town, HERE.
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Watch my 700 Club Interactive
Wanted to share my interview with Terry Meeuwsen on the 700 Club interactive show. Note to self: back away from the Skype camera! Watch it HERE, The God Box appears a little after the 9 minute mark.
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February 24th was my Mother’s birthday
Today February 24th was my Mother’s birthday. I’d tell you her age but I know better. When I would visit her in Florida for her birthday (I never missed a single one), she would say, ‘Don’t tell people how old you are, or else they will know how old I am!”. Mary Boales Finlayson was never old. She never said, “Oh, I’m just an old lady,” or “Well, you know how it is at this age.” She was ageless, always young in her way. Had a Mac way before anyone else. Constant emailer. Always in search of a cool hairstylist. I see her in this picture, sitting on my grandparents’ sofa in Philadelphia and think, “Oh, Mary, did you know how loved you would be…even then?” You were, Mom. You are. You always will be. Happy Birthday from your…29 year old girl.
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From Page to Stage
I guess it’s kind of unusual for a writer to decide to turn her book into a play…at the same time she writes it. But I did. There was just so much more MOM to share! If you’re curious why I felt I needed to tell Mom’s story onstage, watch this little film that tells the tale…with love. My dream is now a reality. On February 16 and 17th, I will be performing “The God Box, A Daughter’s Story” off-off Broadway in NYC and would love to see you there. Write to GodBoxtickets@gmail.com to reserve tickets in NYC!
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Noah: The Power of Loving More
At his funeral, slain kindergartner Noah Pozner’s courageous Mom Veronique recalled that as she tucked her little boy into bed, she said, “I love you.” And Noah would answer “Not as much as I love you.” How can someone speak about such unspeakable loss? Veronique did it at the hardest possible moment– to keep Noah’s spirit alive. Sharing stories of those we have lost is a step toward healing our broken hearts. I do that with my memories of Mom. Like Noah and his Mom, we had our own language. We would be talking and one of us would say “More” and then the other would say, “more” again and again, riding over each other. It meant “I love YOU more.” May we never, ever forget what we have lost.
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