In Mexican culture, when cooking , there is a tool we use called a molcajete. It’s kind of like a bowl on three legs made of lava rock. Before you really start using it you have to get it ready. First you have to grind rice into it to get out the grittiness, then you have to grind your spices into it and it will hold its flavor and that flavor will seep into everything that gets put into it from that time on. It will also soak up flavors as they are added and ground into it. It makes the most delectable salsa. My grandma had one, my mom has one, I have one. They seem to be just regular kitchen things but each one holds a story, a flavor.
I don’t know much of my mom’s story…I know she spent most of her childhood living with her grandparents. She has a lot of brothers and sisters and loves every single one of them very deeply. And i know how her story interlaces with my own. I am the second of 4 children. The first girl though. My mom was married when she had me, and I came to her when she was 17 years old.
I cannot imagine what that was like for her. I think back to when I was 17 and can barely remember it. I have a 15 year old daughter of my own and can’t even imagine her in a relationship let alone ready to get married. Even though those were “different days” I think I was so lucky to have a young mom. My mom was always the prettiest. She was always the most fashionable. She was always energetic. And always so creative. I am so blessed that she poured these things into me as well.
But I would imagine being a teenage mom is a really hard thing. She had to drop out of high school to take care of her two children and her husband was only 19 years old and worked hard all the time to support this young family. I didn’t think about it until I got older but I bet she got a lot of stares, heard a lot of whispers behind her back, saw people nudge each other and then throw a look her way. The condescending tsk tsk sounds. What she went through I can’t imagine. But because of it I have inherited a strength that I cannot explain. I walk with a certain dignity, like my mom, where my life from the outside may not look “perfect “according to standards set by people, but I am proud of the family I have and will not let people or circumstance cause me to see shame in myself, rathe,r I let God be glorified through the life I live no matter the circumstance I am put into. It’s not by strength of my own. It was soaked into me. seasoned into the fiber of my being, all because of what my mom was willing to face and overcome. Because of irritants being ground from and spice ground into her. I am one who carries the flavor. The seasoning. There are no words to thank her for what she went through to make me who I am but God knows and dances over her with love and excitement at the job she is doing.
Now me being a bit “spicy” I was not the best teenager in the world. I was hardly a “good” one. I snuck out regularly, got involved in things I should have known better than to have, and was just a rebellious brat. My grandma Terri died when I was really young and so my mom had no help from her in my upbringing. I am positive that that was an extremely hard thing because I lean on my mom all the time. I am sure that in those years my poor mom wanted to throw her hands up…and then smack me with them hahaha… but instead I imagine she folded them and prayed. Much like Mary in the bible heard all the things spoken about her son Jesus and held them in her heart. I imagine my mom had thoughts of who she knew I could be, and held them in her heart.
In a molcajete, the longer something sits in it, the more flavors it is able to absorb. My mom must have held her thoughts of me in her heart for a long time because I have absorbed so much of her qualities, her love for books and all things creative, her love for music and all things that set a soul to dance, and faith in God, that nothing is impossible for Him.
I think people are hardest on moms. No other people group get so judged by what they do, don’t do, when they do or don’t do, how they live, dress, speak, feed their babies, dress their babies,. I mean really… think of it. You see a kid running down the street with a booger face. The first thing you think is “Where is your mom and why did she let you out of the house like that?” and it’s not in a nice way, like, is she feeling ok? Is something wrong? Does she need help? No. It’s more like, EW! What a terrible mother you must have! So I am going to list all of the things my mom is to me (none of which she was specially trained for) My mom was my cheerleader, chef, warden, bank, doctor, teacher, motivational speaker, bus driver, psychologist, rescuer, and so much more. She showed me how to love like Jesus loves.
I mentioned earlier that my mom had to drop out of high school to take care of her family. My mom went back years later and finished. She graduated valedictorian. I don’t remember how old I was at the time. I think about 8 maybe 9 but I remember being so filled with pride watching my own mama make a speech in front of all of her school teachers and friends and getting the thing which she studied so hard for. My mom worked outside of the home for as far back as I can remember. Then she came home and worked inside the home. She had no time to herself. But she savored every second she had with us while we were growing up. I learned then that i would have to work hard to reach my goals. Even though time may not always be on my side, God is and I can overcome and shine just like she did on that day.
Just like a molcajete a mom has to be a rock on the outside, and a vessel on the inside. Ready for and hits coming from the outside and whatever it is she must carry and flavor. When you make a salsa in a molcajete you can give away your recipe to whoever wants it but they can never reproduce the taste that came out. They didn’t have a seasoned vessel to cook it in. That is pretty apparent if you have ever met my sister and brothers. We are successful. We are Strong. We are stubborn in a good way. We are fun. We are funny. We don’t get pushed around. There is nothing in the world more important to us than family. There is no one like us in the whole world. If there was we wouldn’t need an Olympics cause everyone would have a gold medal ( they will know what that means). Mothers Day has just passed and my moms birthday is today. I honor, thank, Love, my mom for the seasonings she had to endure. For staying strong on the outside to be able to flavor and carry what was on the inside. I am proud and humbled that I had her to show me how to be a woman and a mother. I am blessed that my kids have the best grandmother and that her strength, love, and seasoning, is in them just as it is in me.
Mom, I hope your birthday is the best ever. I wish I could be there to celebrate it with you all. I will see you soon. I love you
