A Mother is a Counselor

In an episode of "Little House on the Prairie" titled "Laura Ingalls Wilder", Laura is having mixed feelings about becoming engaged to Almanzo Wilder. The downside is that she will have to stop teaching. It was the nineteenth century, when women had to give up their careers or jobs when they married. A memorable scene in that episode is when Laura's mother, Caroline, climbs up into the loft in their little house to console Laura. Among other things, she says to Laura, "Don't worry, Laura, you'll be a teacher." She goes on to explain, "A mother is many things - a cook, a dressmaker, a disciplinarian, a nurse...but above all, a mother is a teacher!"  In the nineteenth century,  there was no such thing as a "counselor", but mothers always had that role, even before it was recognized. 

On Christmas night in 1973 when I was six, I retreated alone to a dark room, where I started crying my eyes out. I suddenly noticed a rag doll behind me, motioning with its arms, in an effort to find out what was wrong. Mom was behind the doll. What could be wrong? We had just celebrated Christmas. It had been a wonderful day! It had been a wonderful day, but that was the problem. That wonderful day was now over, and the fact that it was over made me very sad. Mom told me that the day of Jesus's birth was only the beginning. She said that Christmas went on for twelve days until the wisemen came. She talked to me until I stopped crying and started having fun again.   

A few days before Christmas the next year I noticed a present under the tree that had a gift tag that read, "To Darcy from Santa". I went to her concerned. "How could that present be from Santa? Santa hadn't come yet." Mom was quick-thinking. "Well, you know, Santa has so many presents to deliver that sometimes he has to get some help from the elves. Sometimes they come out a little early. I thought I saw one running across the lawn the other day. Do you remember that Al?" she asked my older brother. Al said he agreed that he saw something like that as well. So, I was reassured, and stop asking questions. I trusted what Mom said above anyone else. 

Being my counselor was one of the biggest parts of her motherhood, and it went on for as long as she did. At every age she was the one I ran to with my problems, from childhood until I was in my fifties. When I talked to her about other kids making fun of me, she said that I was in good company because Jesus was also mocked. It was difficult for me to tell her when I was fourteen that I was having some feelings that I didn't understand, and that I was afraid that I might be a lesbian. Mom was clear that she didn't care what I was, she would love me the same. We realized that she didn't have to worry about that as I got older and started becoming interested in men. We talked repeatedly about a male co-worker who I liked but from whom I was getting mixed signals. She said not to give up because "It ain't over til' the fat lady sings!"

We found out in my twenties that I had OCD. The most difficult part was not knowing that and talking together for years ahead of the diagnosis about the bizarre and inappropriate thoughts I was having that were causing me such great pain. Mom could have easily run away, saying that she couldn't deal with it, but she remained at my side the whole time, providing understanding and encouragement. 

One year when I was starting a new job, I talked to Mom about feeling uneasy about a black smudge I accidentally put on the wall when bringing a big box full of parts that I was supposed assemble to make a bookcase into my office. Though she was a highly emotional person, Mom could be very rational. "Every building is going to have some wear and tear that comes just from using it." She reasoned. "Nothing is going to stay the same forever. The walls are going to get smudged. No one will think that much of it." I was still worried though, about what the executive director would say if he came into my office and saw the smudge.  Mom then turned to her sense of humor to address the issue. "Well," she said, "The is an easy one. All you have to do is look at that big heavy box of bookcase parts that you had to carry into the office yourself, and say, 'Oh my back, my back!' He'll soon forget about that smudge very quickly!" I was soon laughing so hard that I couldn't remained worried. 

I continued to talk to Mom about my problems, up to the year before she died, when I said that I was worried about what other people would think if they found out that I emailed the CEO with a concern about the organization. Mom just said, "Well, if they don't like it, just tell them where to go." 

It is the third anniversary of the day my mother moved on to what we trust is "a better place". I put a lot of thought into what I could do to honor and remember her on this day and came up with nothing but this blog. Until recently, I never really thought about how she, without realizing it, inspired my work. With all my training and education as a Licensed Professional Counselor, I don't think I can ever surpass what she did with nothing but love, common sense and maternal instincts.