Many of my favorite little-girl memories revolve around my mother’s mother…I called her MemMem. Although I only spent eight years with her, the legacy she left will live for generations. Her sweet face; a face that owned a button nose, dancing green eyes, and a warm smile, resides unfading in my memories. Yet still, I wish I had more photographs of her. I wish I could show my children how she looked when she held me, sewed my Halloween costumes, and baked special treats.
Having so few photographs of my MemMem has prompted me to be more vigilant about allowing my picture to be taken even when I do not look so great (which, truth be told, is more often than not).
Sure, I want my children to one day look back at old photos and see me looking poised and polished.
I want them to see that I was a girly mommy who liked to feel pretty.
But, I also want them to see that I was not perfect…
…that I woke up in the morning with an extreme case of bed-head and an intense need for coffee.
I want them to see that I was a bit of a goofball.
I want them to see that sometimes I talked, when I should have been listening.
I want them to see that sometimes I played.
I want them to see that sometimes I held on too tight.
I want them to see that I made mistakes, but that I tried so hard to do the right thing.
I want them to see that true beauty rests in love…not make up.
I want them to see me… an imperfect, child-of-God who could be a bit of a control-freak and had to learn over and over again that it was OK to let go. I want them to see the woman who made lopsided birthday cakes, had a sassy-streak, and talked way too much. I want them to see that I had bad hair days (and bad hair color days). I want them to see that I was not always trendy or sophisticated. I want them to see that their mother was flawed, but that the grace of God had the power to evoke beauty from failure.
I want them to see who I really was…so that they feel empowered to be who they were created to be.
By Angela Nazworth who tries to blogs at www.becomingme.net