Two cups of coffee on the counter. One black. One with cream. My mom and I started having morning coffee together when I was in college and would come home for the weekends. This has been a continued practice as a young adult, and it’s become my favorite part of going home. Not just because coffee is involved, but because of the conversations that happen at that table. I have told my mom several times that she should write a book. And she doesn’t think I am serious. But I am. So this post is some of the many chapters that my mom’s book should include. If she won’t write the book, then I will.
Chapter 1: “I’m not packing air people”
My mom is a professional mover. My mom raised four kids. Think about that, we all turned 18 and moved to college. So she moved us four kids to college. Then out of college we got jobs and moved other places. When I was between the ages of 18-23, my mom helped me move four times. My mom has such a reputation that she gets volunteered to help strangers move. My mom sees a U-haul and follows it wherever it goes, just assuming she is supposed to help. She has moved people across the state, to new houses, to old houses, to apartments, to dorm rooms. While each move is different, there is always one consistent theme,”I am not packing air, people.”
And what does she mean by that. Basically all of the space in your boxes and moving totes should be taken up with something and not air. One time, I had 2 kitchen boxes, one with pots and pans and one with cooking utensils. Just to give you a picture, box 1: pots and pans were stacked into each other with the lids on the sides of the bos. Box 2: the utensils were in trays from the drawers stacked on top of each others and then a big round utensil container on top. Me, a mere mortal packer, thought that these two boxes were packed pretty tactfully. But my mother, The Almighty Packer, took one look at that and said “I am not packing air people.” She put the trays of silverware and knives on the bottom, put the utensils into the pots, lined the sides of the box with the lids, and still had room to fit four into the box…….And then I showed her my box of clothes hangers.
When I go home, and my mom and I have our morning coffee. I like to ask who she has helped move that week. And she goes into some story about reducing someone’s laughable 6 boxes of bathroom, bedroom, and kitchen supplies down to half a box. While everyone in my family jokes about my mom’s “zero air policy.” There is an important lesson to be learned. Don’t be a waste of space. You have gifts and talents that God gave you. Use them. I truly believe that God gave my mom a gift of organization and an uncanny ability to fit things into boxes. And she uses this to bless others. Moving can be stressful, and my mom doesn’t necessarily “love” moving others. But for her it’s an opportunity to bless others by lending a helping hand whenever, wherever, and however she can. We cloud our own thinking into “talents and gifts” having to be music or sports or public speaking. God may have given you a talent to sweep floors. Don’t be a waste of space and keep your well swept floors to yourself. Go bless someone and sweep their floor. And my mom will be there to show you how to best store your broom to take up the least amount of space as possible.
Chapter 2: “Ice-cream fixes everything”
Mom’s know a lot of things. I’m pretty sure that once a woman becomes a mother, some sort of data update happens and all of the knowledge of the world downloads into her brain. One of the pieces of data that has downloaded into my mom’s brain is a GPS system that finds the nearest Culver’s. Growing up, we had ice cream after a day at the pool, after a day trip to Fargo or Bismarck, or after a school Christmas concert. A sweet treat to top off the day.
Growing up, I got hurt a lot. Mostly secondary to the abuse of my older siblings, definitely never ever my own fault. My mom was always there to provide physical or emotional comfort. Just an few example of the comfort my mom provided me.
(Back story: the day before, I watched my dad get out of the pickup while it was just coming to a stop, so it was just barely moving when my dad got out. It was the coolest thing that my 4-year-old eyes had ever seen. My dad basically jumped out of a moving vehicle).
My older siblings were at school and my mom brought me with to run errands in town. The day was sure to end with ice cream and Stop and Go. The errands were done and we had just started pulling into Stop and Go. The pickup was still moving “relatively” fast, and I decided that I would be cool, like my dad, and get out of the moving vehicle. I was suddenly hanging onto the door handle for dear life with my legs being drug behind me in the parking lot. My mom slammed the brakes. Put the pickup in park and picked me up off the ground. She hugged me and tried to calm down the dramatic 4-year-old that I was (and still am). My mom drove us home and I cried the entire 16 mile drive home. When we got home, my mom cleaned up my road rash and finally calmed me down. When I had finally calmed down, I was a little upset that I didn’t get ice cream. But my mom came in clutch and gave me a popsicle. And it was all better.
As I grew into those awesome teen years, the “ice-cream fixes everything” continued. Clothes shopping trips to Fargo were mostly just me whispering mean things about my mom under my breath, through gritted teeth. I rolled my eyes so much that I gave myself vertigo. But regardless of what happened during the day. We still got ice cream, usually at Culver’s, before we left for home. On my way home, the healing qualities of the ice-cream became apparent. My eyes suddenly stayed in place and my I was able to speak to my mom at a normal volume. Weird…..
I know my mom will read this and say “I just wanted ice-cream for myself.” But there is a lesson in ending the day, especially the hard days, with ice-cream. There is always a positive to everyday. So while I was drug down the road at 40 mph at 4-years-old there was still a positive to that day. And while my mom totally ruined my freshman year of high school by not buying the super-low-rise jeans for me, there was still a positive ending to that day. Find the positive part of everyday, even the hard ones. And if you have to, take a play from my mom’s book, and end the day with ice-cream. It fixes everything by becoming an automatic positive to your day.
Chapter 3: “Chotchkies”
The last few years, my mom has begun removing “chotchkies” from her home. For those of you who don’t know chotchkies are “a decorative knick-knack with little or no purpose.” My mom’s anti-chotchkie life style started in 2001 when she went to El Salvador on her first missions trip. Each year, following, there were less and less figurines and decorations on our shelves and walls.
One morning, I was having coffee with my mom, and she said something about her chotchkie free policy. “When the Lord calls me to Africa to build an orphanage, I need to be ready to go as soon as possible.” This has become my mom’s mindset regarding stuff in the last several years. Especially since she got bit by the backpacking bug. For one week, everything she needs will fit into a backpack that she will carry on her back. (Luckily my bug repellent is stronger than hers).
My parents recently moved off of the farm to town into the house my grandma lived in. The shelves and walls have minimal stuff on them. However, my mom has been filling up the house. Almost weekly, she invites people over for Sunday lunch. The neighbor kids come over to help her in the yard. My mom has moved from filling her house with stuff to filling her house with people. When you go to someone’s house, do you remember what is on their walls or do you remember the experience? My mom has really tapped into this mindset. She knows that how she makes people feel and the experience she provides at her house is paramount to what is on her walls or shelves. One of the many ways, we should all be more like Vickie Gussiaas, fill our lives with people and experiences, not stuff. Get rid of the chotchkies, they just take up space when you move.
Because She Dared 
i love this
LikeLike