Tag: tough

I read a wonderfully inspiring book at the Beach House, “Unraveled” by Maria Housden.

 

She writes about a conversation she had with her dad about the choices she made that went against conventional thinking, but that spoke to her soul.

 

“I heard the screen door behind me open.  Turning, I saw my father, holding two glasses of lemonade, coming toward me.

“Do you mind if I join you, honey?” he asked.

“Not at all, I’d love it,” I said.

 

Perching at the edge of the stoop, he handed me one of the glasses.  I took sip, savoring the tangy sweetness in my mouth before swallowing.  My father cleared his throat.  I looked at him, realizing now that he had an ulterior motive in joining me.  I remained silent wondering what he was going to say.

 

“Marie, I need to tell you something.”  He said finally.  My heart leaped into my throat. Suddenly I was ten years old, anticipating a scolding. My father addressed me by my first name only when it was really serious or important.

 

“I want to talk with you about your life and the decisions you’ve made and are making.”  He cleared his throat again and took a sip of lemonade.  My heart was now thudding in my chest.  I willed myself to stay focused on my father’s words.  “What I have to say,” he continued, “isn’t just about you and your children.  It’s also about my mother.”

 

His mother!  Although he had always found it painful to speak of her, I knew that my father had always loved his mother deeply.  For years had kept a large, framed photograph of her on top of the table in his office. I could see her image now, in my mind, a dark-haired woman with pale skin, full lips, and deep feeling eyes, wearing formal-looking, light-colored suit with a wide-brimmed hat.  I knew from what I had overheard as a child that she was quiet, soft-spoken woman who had been loved by everyone who knew her, and the wife of a doctor, my father’s father, an intense, emotionally abusive, alcoholic man.  The source of my father’s profound sorrow was that she had died in the hospital of cancer when my father was sixteen, before my father and his brothers were even told she was sick.

 

My father was speaking, “Honey, I want you to know that, in terms of the decisions you’ve made in your life this past year, even the difficult one you’re considering now, I think your doing the right thing.  It hasn’t been easy, I know, to have the kind of courage you’ve had. But those of us who love you, and especially Will, Margaret, and Madelaine, it is wonderful to see you putting yourself out there.  God gives each of us talents to express.  Whose right is it to limit the expression of those gifts?  I feel lucky to have you as a daughter, and I will always be committed to instilling in you your right to excel.”

 

I wanted to cry, my heart swelling with gratitude and relief, but my father was not done.

 

“This has always been a man’s world,” he continued. “And no one knew that more than my mother. But she didn’t have the strength to do what you’re doing. She put up with a lot of unhappiness and abuse, and it killed her.”  He hesitated.  I waited. “What I have to say next might sound strange to most people, but I am sure you will understand.  I still feel my mother.   Her presence has always been a part of my life. And what I feel in relation to her now is that the decisions you’re making as a woman are not only helping you and your children.  Your decisions are also healing her.”

 

I was stunned. I had never heard my father speak like this.  As he words sank into my bones, I felt my need to be perfect in his eyes melting. I knew then that I had to be willing to endure the disapproval of others in order to be everything I was capable of being.  My father had reminded me that not only was I responsible to my own life and the lives of my children, but I was responsible to every woman who had come before me and to those who would come after, who needed to be reminded, as I once had, that they are deserving and capable of more.

 

            Maria Housden

 

I loved this book for it showed not only the courage it takes to go against society, friends and family to do what feels right to you, but also the delights in doing what you feel is right.

 

Right for you.