Mustard seeds anyone???

Yesterday was Mother’s Day in the United States (in Jordan, their Mother’s Day is actually the first day of spring—kinda nice, don’t you think?) and so while it was quite obvious it was American Mother’s Day when I made a visit to Facebook, otherwise, it was a regular Sunday—a regular school day here, and kinda easy to forget about the day and moms celebrated back home in the U.S. of A. This is now the 8^th Mother’s Day since my mother, the incomparable Mary Martha Griley Leistler, departed this earth. At one point during the day, I wondered exactly what one does on Mother’s Day without a mother. I don’t mean that at all as maudlin as that sounds, but, here in Jordan, thousands of miles from anyone who knew “MM” it vexed my mind what one should do…raise an imaginary glass and offer a toast?

So at the end of the day, looking at the beautiful Facebook tributes of friends to their mothers, enjoying a poignant memory of my mother, I looked back on how I had spent the day.

 

As I said, just a regular day, albeit, a gorgeous spring day, chilly even (MM would have thought it freezing!) and the start of my post-AP test Curatorial Art projects in AP Art History class.  One student offered a show about art works that allow us an opportunity to think and project into the future. One student asked us to put on masks, read the Dunbar poem about masks, and took us on a tour of art works that are mask-like, urging us to finally imagine the concealed features of our un-masked selves. Another student’s show, entitled, “They’d Rather Die!” juxtaposed art works of people/regions that despised each other, and how seeing the art works side-by-side reminded us of their original historical feuding context. A last student asked each of us to take off our school tie, blindfold ourselves…then asked us to put our hands in various bowls she passed around. One felt like flour, one smelled of cocoa, and ewww, one felt like brownie batter. She then asked us to eat a finished brownie and imagine all the ingredients working together. Her artworks begged us to look past the finished art work and ponder the ingredients and process that went into the creation of each work.

 

Later in the day a colleague passed by my office. We had had an argument the other day and she had stormed out. The colleague came by, asking to talk, to reconcile, and asked sincerely that we try and figure out and understand each other better.

 

Mid-day I sat and enjoyed the Fourth Annual Faculty Arabic Play—do you need to ask why I did not volunteer???  As a non-scholar in Arabic, I wanted to sit and enjoy colleague Lina’s ingenious writing, the funny scenes of a “My Big Fat Jordanian Wedding” takeoff, complete with a real month-old baby, the new daughter Jeeda of dear colleague Ruba. Author Lina topped herself from last year, and cleverly included filmed cameo appearances from about a dozen former faculty who now live back in the US, and wanted to be a part of this fun event speaking Arabic.

 

All week we get to have Advisor Lunch (usually just twice a week) as we march toward Commencement, the farewells to seniors, and the end of another year. We laughed and enjoyed our advisory group.

 

After school I made sure to call some of the women in my life from my other school eras who have acted as surrogate mothers to me. I called “Cookie”—perhaps the most articulate friend I have ever known, and a Southern Belle that has always been congenial and warm and wickedly smart and observant.  I called Grace, the receptionist at Charlotte Latin, who has blessed my life for nearly 25 years with friendship, strength, and a loving heart. I jotted notes to Anne and Judy, friends who transcend mere geography, and also called my sister, my sister and a mother to my favorite niece and nephew.

 

Soon after I went with Moamer and John Wolff on another of our “science experiments,” i.e. gathering data on where the best burger is in Amman. I chose the Double Onion for this experiment at my favorite “lab,” a.k.a. The Burger Shack.

When we came back I decided to spend some time checking in on students in various dorms, seeing how their progress continued for today’s AP exams, hoping they had had a good day.

 

As I looked at the sweet pronouncements of love for mothers on Facebook, I thought again about how I might have spent Mother’s Day honoring My Best Girl. Hey, wait a minute—let’s look at the day…this was a pretty good day. The day involved realizing how beautiful this Sunday morning was, how blessed how I felt all day to work in a school with colleagues who practice and embody civility, reconciliation, humor, and graciousness. I witnessed exciting creativity in my students. I laughed at an inventive and fun theater piece. I enjoyed a table-ful of laughing, kind advisees. I talked on the phone about memories and love. I went out to eat! I visited people, made and strengthened connections, and savored my day. 

Hmmmmm….without being really cognizant about it, maybe I honored Mary Martha Griley Leistler in the very best possible way! I lived a day that she would have treasured and loved! I felt blessed! I knowingly savored the exchanges and encounters of a regular day. MMGL never lived anywhere but ordinary Cincinnati, Ohio. However, what I learned from her from, wow, maybe infancy, was that one could take an ordinary day, in an ordinary place, and make it extraordinary. A bright smile started it off. Talking to people. Reveling in creative thought, gracious company, telling people you loved them…any day and any moment with her felt vibrant and worth living and cherishing. I had lived an MM day just because.

 

Of course remembering MM usually includes remembering the MS that challenged her body (but never her psyche!). By no means is that MS her identity, it simply was there, degenerating nerves, but never diminishing hope or the fun of being alive. MM loved the New Testament story about the mustard seed. Two times in the New Testament, Jesus discusses the power of the tiny, tiny, mustard seed. In one of my mother’s favorite biblical passages, Jesus says, “If you have the faith of the mustard seed…nothing is impossible for you.” She loved that imagery and told people often that it only took a mustard seed-size of faith to remove huge barriers such as mountains—nothing would be impossible for you.

 

Of course I occasionally wondered how and why she could maintain her sunny disposition and feelings of wonder about the beauty of life as she suffered with the MS. Cynics would probably demand to know why couldn’t her faith remove the barrier of MS???

But instead of self-pity (She never had time for that! She had parties to plan, connections to sodder, souls to reconcile, creativity to spin, and restaurants and loved ones to visit!!!) she went back to the mustard seed, knowing full well that it was not about the obvious mighty barriers that we might lose—she focused on the Mustard Plant! She was not exactly a botanist, but to hear her tell it, the mustard plant grows to a remarkable size in comparison to the original mustard seed. MM always loved contests, and especially loved winning them (my father would remind us that she was used to winning!). Maybe her lifelong desire was to grow the biggest Mustard Plant ever, the biggest Mustard Plant representing her faith in the beauty of life, the warmth of humanity, and her faith that a day held so many wondrous possibilities of transformation and joy.

 

It was a good Mother’s Day. Just thinking how she would have written, or spoken about, or waxed poetic about her day and her connections, it was a beautiful and appropriate honor to her life’s work. By the way, that old photo at the top of the blog entry? There we are, together, Mother's Day,exactly 50 years ago!

 

I know she is evaluating that statement in Matthew 13:31, “The kingdom of Heaven is like a mustard seed.”  Preach, MM!