I can pitch an eight-man tent by myself, start a campfire and bait a hook. I can change car tires, engine oil and the gas tank on a minivan by myself. I have yet to find a VCR or DVD player I cannot program.
I drove from California to Maine in a 24-foot U-Haul, towing a car, and had three children under the age of 8 with me. We never stopped to sleep at a motel.
There are many things I have been challenged to do and I’ve met the challenge every single time, but there is one thing I cannot seem to do – I am unable to write a poignant message inside a greeting card. I dread birthdays, Christmas, Mother’s Day, Father’s Day, anniversaries and any other occasion that calls for a card with a handwritten sentimental message.
When it comes to writing something inside a greeting card, I sit there with the card open, the pen hovering above the blank space. The words I feel in my heart and hear in my head won’t go to my hand. I usually end up writing something generic like “Happy birthday! Here’s wishing you the best day ever. Thinking of you with love.” Blah!
My daughter turned 18 last weekend. I found a card that said exactly what I felt, but when I opened the card to write a personal message, the words failed me – again.
What I wanted to tell her is this:
“When you were born, I was overjoyed to have a healthy daughter. It was so exciting and miraculous to hold the result of love and desire to bring a human being into the world.
“When I looked into your eyes for the first time and touched your tiny hand, your teeny fingers wrapped around mine. I promised to teach you the skills you would need to be a productive human being. I promised to protect you from all that I could while still allowing you the pain of experiencing the fact that life isn’t fair. I vowed to teach you compassion and to find joy in the little things in life. I wanted you to see the sunrise in the morning and shooting stars at night, to help you realize the world is much bigger than the self-centered little universe all children live in. I wanted you to understand that this vast world is yours to explore.
“I wanted you to be kind to animals, to have good manners and care about other people. I wanted you to use proper English and not say things like ‘ain’t,’ ‘don’t got’ and most of all, the dreaded ‘so don’t.’ I hoped you would have a good sense of humor because laughter is so good for the soul. I wanted to create traditions for you to carry on, like writing on the Thanksgiving tablecloth. I wanted you to respect life, people, the environment and most of all, yourself.
“I wanted you to be proud of yourself, stand up for your convictions and have strong morals. I wanted you to always strive to succeed and always move ‘onward and upward.’ I succeeded in instilling many of these things in you, but other strengths, you still need to find within yourself. They aren’t things that can be taught. Some lessons are borne of experience and age.
“You will face many disappointments along the way. It’s OK. It’s how you face those disappointments that count. Life will challenge you physically, mentally and emotionally, but I taught you to be strong in all those areas.
“I gave you the tools you need, the rest is up to you.
“You’re 18 now – an official adult – but that doesn’t mean I stop being your mom. This is a life-long relationship. Sorry, kid, you’re stuck with me!
“I love you! Happy Birthday.”
I also wanted to tell her how much I have learned about myself being her mother. I learned it’s OK to have dessert before dinner every now and then. I learned I have little patience with trivial annoyances, but I can handle the big stuff. I learned a lot of swear words. I learned to bite my tongue – and smile while doing it. Most of all, I learned what it’s like to love another human being with every fiber of my being. I learned that kind of love could drive me to do unspeakable things to anyone that tried to hurt her.
  So, what did I write in her card? “Happy Birthday! 18!! You made it! I love you very much and wish you the very best in life. It’s all up to you now. I’m proud to be your mom…it’s the best job I ever had. All my love always, Mom.”
  It wasn’t exactly sentimental, but it was concise.
– Renee Worthing