Life's Sweetest Tether
Power of Love
Love it is the precious loom,
Whose shuttle weaves each tangled thread,
And works flowers of exquisite bloom,
Shedding their perfume where we tread.*
Today I give thanks to and for my Mum who is in heaven and is, no doubt, celebrating “Mothering Sunday” with her own mum - cups of tea and petit fours aplenty!
About a month ago, I read about a new exhibition opening at The Thames Art Gallery (Chatham). Titled “Tether”, the collection was curated from seven local artists - all women - whose work highlights mothers practicing art in diverse fields (painting, photography, filmmaking and sewing). Each artist’s perspective has been formed by mothering their own children who are of a wide range of both ages and abilities. The exhibit is simultaneously emotional, intriguing, humorous and poignant. If you’re going to be in south-west Ontario, you have until Sunday, 4th June to take in the dynamic work of these seven accomplished Chatham-Kent artists: “Tether”
“Invisible threads are the strongest ties.”
[Friedrich Nietzsche]
It was the sewing element of “Tether” that initially caught my eye; it is a dominant theme in my life. Virtuosos with a needle and thread - proficient seamstresses and gifted embroidery artists - Nana and Mum wove a loving thread through our family’s life, mine in particular - a shared tether that will never break. That thread has stitched their hearts onto my own forevermore.
Foremothers
Virtutem maiorum honoramus
My Nana
Like so many Canadians, I owe an enormous debt to my relatives who immigrated to this beautiful country after WWII in search of a better life. Particularly my Nana, whose bravery, and certitude that her family’s future was in Canada, became the cornerstone for my future. I admire her indomitability which is responsible for my family’s current life of abundance, safety and happiness.
My Nana had three daughters - Mum, Auntie Jo and Auntie Pam. Being a very young girl in war-ravaged Manchester during WWII, Auntie Pam was evacuated to Canada where she lived, in the Kew Beach neighbourhood of Toronto, with my Nana’s brother, our great Uncle George. By the time the war had ended, Auntie Pam was a thoroughly Canadian girl, firmly entrenched in her new Toronto life. Encouraged by her brother, Nana packed up their few remaining possessions, left her home, her friends, her business and, with her three girls in tow, immigrated to Canada. She bought a house - #191 Gledhill Avenue - a home where many of my most cherished memories were made.
As a youngster, Nana’s story was just that, a story, and one so far beyond the parameters of my own life and experiences that it was nothing I truly understood, or thought much about. As an adult, though, and more recently in the context of the war being waged on the Ukraine, I’m feeling deeper admiration and gratitude for the decision and sacrifice made by my grandmum.
Mum
I was raised by a very strong, unfussy, fiercely proud woman of immense kindness. Mum was a Breast Cancer survivor.
By constant example, she taught me to love generously. She taught me patience (with moderate success at best). She taught me to be kind. Always. She loved the lessons of the ten commandments, particularly the adjunct to the first, “Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself.”** Mum constantly modelled acceptance and inclusion because she wanted me to love my neighbour as much and in exactly the same way, as I loved myself.
From my juvenile perspective, the life Mum created for me on Joy Drive was idyllic. For her, though, it wasn’t always easy. Money was always tight and Mum, a practical woman, always found ways to make ends meet, to make sure I had lovely clothes for school, church and most especially - to young me - for birthday parties. She’d spend hours unpicking garments passed down from Nana, Auntie Pam and Aunt Fran. She’d carefully piece them back together to make the prettiest of dresses, skirts and coats for both me and her. Watching my mum devoting her time, artistry, and sewing mastery to her dressmaking process, taught me to value both handiwork and economy (‘though Cam would strenuously argue that last one).
‘Though many outsiders may have chosen to see an overprotective mother, Mum taught me to think for myself and to learn by doing; she’d never chastise me for making mistakes, simply encourage me to do better the next time. No judgement. One of the most important acts of mothering is letting go. Life’s lessons - just like taking one’s first steps - are best mastered trial and error styles. No matter how much they want to safeguard their kiddos, Mums have to let their toddlers wobble, fall down, get back up, and repeat until balance comes naturally. ‘Though I was always well-protected, mum’s guidance and encouragement gave me confidence in my ability. She gave me wings and urged me to spread them wide. She never once held me back.
The golden thread that binds our family together, our tether, is spun from the love and lessons of my mum and nana. All I can tell you is that through Mum and Nana, everlasting love for my family has been securely stitched onto my heart and on this Mother’s Day I couldn’t be more grateful nor more appreciative. How ever you’re celebrating or with whom you’re celebrating, happy Mothers’ Day!
Here’s to you, Mum!
’Til next time, y’all…
*James McIntyre, from his volume Poems of James McIntyre, page 245. Mr. McIntyre was a Scottish poet who emigrated to Canada in 1851.
** Matthew 22:39 KJV
Virtutem maiorum honoramus = We honor the strength of our ancestors