For some it comes with a Hallmark card and bouquets of flowers. For some it comes with a gift, others a plain hug and heartfelt �thanks.� And, as in every year prior, restaurants will be packed. The boys and I will once again thank Virginia for who she is to us, and how she has been a mom in a house full of boys.
Later, I�ll phone my mom to thank her again for all her past and present influences in my life. Activist, organizer, disciplinarian, encourager, faithful guide and example � I couldn�t imagine a better mom for me. We don�t get together as much as I would like, but we�re always closer than the geographical distance between us.
For some other women, the day is a reminder of unfulfilled dreams or unrecognized contributions. Some mourn children still rebelling, still wandering, still waiting for them to come home. Some wish for someone to share the load of parenting who will actually augment rather than diminish their efforts. Some cope with having their children cared for by others. Others care for any kids within their reach.
And there are some like my �Tante Illy.�
That�s the German equivalent of �Aunt Ilse,� and it�s the simple way I address one of the most important women in my life.
The fact that I was born to her sister and not to her didn�t diminish her care or her love. Tante Illy and her mother crossed the ocean to join their sister and husband in Queens, New York. I was born shortly after their arrival. My childhood years were greatly enriched by the presence of extended family and friends of my parents.
She gracefully blended her roles as family seamstress, oral historian, and apologist for the culture of the �old country.�
As a seamstress she was the stuff of legends. Outfits sewn without patterns. Shirts, suits, pants and coats modified to suit her �little ones.� It was a skill refined and utilized as the main breadwinner in the family following the death of her father. She went from sewing for others to teaching others to sew.
Upon her arrival in New York City, she once again found herself sewing for others. As a seamstress for Bonwit Teller in Manhatten, she recalls fitting celebrities and actresses, unaware of who they were until clued in by co-workers.
At home, her skill as seamstress stretched the value of my parents earnings. But there were times that skill went unappreciated.
I remember one childhood Christmas when I opened a gift, expecting a toy, only to find another outfit sewn by my Tante Illy. Her memory of my disappointment with that gift is softened by her humble humor and loving grace. We both know now that, while she couldn�t always give us what she wanted, she always gave us what she could.
The range of her gifts went from the shirt on my back to the stories in my head.
Tante Illy was not only a master seamstress but a master storyteller. From fairy tales to fanciful recollections of life in the old country, she inspired in me an imagination that shaped my childhood. Hearing her read and tell stories, I learned to love reading and enjoy writing.
For Tante Illy, almost any situation could be an occasion for a story or a lesson on life. She transcribed in my spirit an imagination which is crucial in my daily work: to see treasure where some see only trash; to believe things possible that others hold impossible; to construct a mental picture of the way things should be and work tirelessly to make those dreams come true.
At 81, she�s had some recent difficulties with her health and I was concerned by news of a recent hospitalization.
A few weeks ago, I talked with her on the phone and she reflected on her life, grateful for her family and �her little ones.� It doesn�t matter how big I get, I�ll always be one of her little ones.
We talked about my work here in Winnipeg. She assured me of her pride in our hard work and her daily prayers for blessing on our efforts. I told her how those prayers have inspired me far beyond my natural abilities or inclinations.
And then she talked about heaven as if it were just around the corner. A place toward which she had long traveled, now almost there. Part of me wanted to avoid this part of the conversation, to tell her to think only of life and fighting to stay. We spoke frankly of the temporal and the eternal, things inevitable and things yet to work towards.
Tante Illy, I don�t know what the future holds, but I�m privileged to hold you tight this Mother�s Day.
Rev. Harry Lehotsky
514 Maryland Street
Winnipeg, Mb R3G 1M5
(204) 775-4929
[email protected]