Spirit Matters: Spiritual walk with my mom one to remember

This week, my mom celebrated another trip around the sun.

She is 82, and has wonderful genes. Her parents lived to be 94 and 98. She continues to live an active, independent life. I realize how fortunate I am to have a parent still in such good health, and I am at an age and maturity level now where I don’t take that for granted.

I took Mom to The French Press in Ottawa to celebrate. This was her first time there. I had been there a few times before, and thought it the ideal place for mother-daughter quality time. She was charmed by the inner atmosphere and vast array of vegetation outside, and even more charmed by the French omelet she ordered.

Many mothers and daughters have complicated relationships. We are no different. Personality clashes, the struggle to assert one’s own identity and values, and more can fuel years of misunderstandings, arguments and hard feelings.

With luck and grace, both parties come to an understanding that the other is an imperfect human trying to do the best with the hand she has been dealt. They might still rub each other the wrong way occasionally, but their own brushes with life’s difficulties have taught them to walk as gently as possible through this perilously short existence and to let go of anger a little easier.

For whatever tensions there have been between my mom and me over the years, one thing is certain: She has been my longest companion on my spiritual journey. And without her ongoing encouragement in pursuing a deeper relationship with God, I would not be where I am today.

Mom and Dad sent us to Catholic grade school. Back then, tuition was free, with the understanding that parents would contribute volunteer hours to the school. With six children, it was a no-brainer for them, as they both grew up in large Catholic families, and their faith had been the cornerstone upon which so much of their lives had been built.

Mom made us go to daily Mass, which meant waking early and getting to school before those who rode the bus. In my class, there was a core group of us who were regulars at daily Mass throughout our eight years together.

As someone with a naturally contemplative spirit, the rhythm and routine of daily Mass nourished my soul deeply, though I wouldn’t realize that until much later.

As I grew into a young adult and began to explore my own spirituality, Mom was there to go with on retreats and to do other related activities together. Those experiences bonded us, and allowed us to be able to share with each other how God worked in us through the particulars of our lives. I remain very grateful for having had her as a travel partner, and deepening my desire to experience the Presence of God in my life beyond Sunday obligations.

One year during my 20s, Mom gave me a copy of the Book of Psalms for Christmas. I had not been that excited about a gift since I was a child. I felt like I had been handed a treasure, and I carried that book with me everywhere I went. I turned to it and held it close as I sank further into a hopelessness, I didn’t know how to extricate myself from. By the time I was done with it, the cover was wrinkled and ripped, the binding had been reinforced and pages were bleak. But that book ‘achieved the end for which it was sent,’ (Isaiah 55:11) by planting the sacred word deeper in my heart.

When I moved back from Normal, Mom persistently encouraged me to join her Bible study group. Although I resisted, she kept at it, and I am glad she did.

I learned through both of those experiences the value of spiritual community, and supporting each other in our spiritual walks, using the spiritual gifts we have been given.

After we were done eating at The French Press and were finishing our drinks, Mom was relaxed and reflective. We talked about how the WATCH program had benefited our lives. A woman walked in the door and recognized me from this column. She introduced herself and we chatted for a few minutes. I introduced my mom to her.

I couldn’t help but think, as we chatted, that in some way my spiritual walk with my mom had come full circle. My mom had been there for me in so many ways through the years, modeling her faith and walking with me as I explored mine.

And now she was able to witness firsthand how her influence and the work God continues to do through my life’s particulars is working in the lives of those who read my words.

It was a sacred moment.

And I can’t think of a better birthday gift than that.

SPIRIT MATTERS is a weekly column by Jerrilyn Zavada Novak that examines experiences common to the human spirit. Contact her at jzblue33@yahoo.com.