I Am a Mom and Grandma
Unable to physically have children of my own, I never saw myself as a mom until I received a Mothers Day card from my first "surrogate" son. I call them 'surrogates' for a lack of a better word.
Many years ago, (and boy does that make me feel old!), the 12 year old son of a friend came to me for help. His step father was abusive. Not to him, luckily, but to his mother. He was afraid to stick around, so he snuck out the back window and came running to me. I was glad to let him stay at my house for the afternoon. Later, I called his mother to let her know that he was safe. She appreciated it and asked if he could stay a little longer.
When she came to get him, we had just finished dinner and he went to watch a little more television. She and I sat down in the dining room, where she told me about what had happened, and that it's not the first time. She felt really bad about her son coming to my door, but I reassured her not to and that he was welcome here anytime. I told her that I'd rather him come to me than to anyone else. She'd know that he was safe and loved. So, this became his safe house.
After several months, my home was shared by others, either in similar situations. or by those who just needed a safe place to stay after school until their parents got home. A place to do their homework, to play board games, to watch television. I was someone they could come to when they needed someone to talk to or to just lean on.
Quickly, my heart was open to all of these kids. Before I knew it, there were eight of them in my home at one time. And their parents were all pleased to know that they had someone they could turn to. It was simple for me, as I worked from home.
I must admit, I did...I do... love these kids as though they were my own. I didn't tell them that, not wanting to get the argument, "You're not my mom!" But the feelings were deep down in there. And, now they all know it.
One year, when he was in high school, that first boy came and knocked on my door with a Mother's Day card. He told me that he loved me and was very grateful for what I had done, for him and for the others who needed me.
Throughout the years, that number has grown to 14, and they aren't kids, but young adults who have needed a shoulder to lean on. They all know about the younger kids, and have chosen to call me "mom". Nothing could warm my heart more...except, of course, when they introduce me to their kids as 'grandma'. (there are now 19 grandchildren, with another on the way).
How could I be so lucky?!?
Many years ago, (and boy does that make me feel old!), the 12 year old son of a friend came to me for help. His step father was abusive. Not to him, luckily, but to his mother. He was afraid to stick around, so he snuck out the back window and came running to me. I was glad to let him stay at my house for the afternoon. Later, I called his mother to let her know that he was safe. She appreciated it and asked if he could stay a little longer.
When she came to get him, we had just finished dinner and he went to watch a little more television. She and I sat down in the dining room, where she told me about what had happened, and that it's not the first time. She felt really bad about her son coming to my door, but I reassured her not to and that he was welcome here anytime. I told her that I'd rather him come to me than to anyone else. She'd know that he was safe and loved. So, this became his safe house.
After several months, my home was shared by others, either in similar situations. or by those who just needed a safe place to stay after school until their parents got home. A place to do their homework, to play board games, to watch television. I was someone they could come to when they needed someone to talk to or to just lean on.
Quickly, my heart was open to all of these kids. Before I knew it, there were eight of them in my home at one time. And their parents were all pleased to know that they had someone they could turn to. It was simple for me, as I worked from home.
I must admit, I did...I do... love these kids as though they were my own. I didn't tell them that, not wanting to get the argument, "You're not my mom!" But the feelings were deep down in there. And, now they all know it.
One year, when he was in high school, that first boy came and knocked on my door with a Mother's Day card. He told me that he loved me and was very grateful for what I had done, for him and for the others who needed me.
Throughout the years, that number has grown to 14, and they aren't kids, but young adults who have needed a shoulder to lean on. They all know about the younger kids, and have chosen to call me "mom". Nothing could warm my heart more...except, of course, when they introduce me to their kids as 'grandma'. (there are now 19 grandchildren, with another on the way).
How could I be so lucky?!?
