The greatest gifts are not measured in size or quantity, often come in the guise of the ordinary, and always carry with them a bit of the giver. Giving is inherent to motherhood, yet goes far deeper than our DNA or a genetic connection.
I’ve seen this hold true in countless ways. My own mother’s mother died when I was four years old. As Mom shared stories, I learned that in many ways, although my grandmother was physically present, she was emotionally absent for many, many years. I saw the bonds Mom had formed with other women who showed up for her when her own mother could not. Her best friend’s mom. Her Aunt Dorothy. Her Philippine “aunties” and “grandmothers” –Manang Mer, Lola Calizo. Dorothy Manke, a dear lady from the Selby Methodist Church.
Even those of us who have the best of mothers still need those “others” in our lives. I, too, have been blessed with many women who have poured themselves into my life, serving as role models, sharing wisdom and experience, providing a safe haven to pour out heartbreak and joy, frustration or success, and to simply share in the ordinary tasks and days and seasons that make up our lives.
Eleanor Ingalls was one of those women who invested in just about every young woman who crossed her path. I was no exception.
Hugh and Eleanor had just celebrated their 50th wedding anniversary when I met them for the first time as a young bride. Later, I had the privilege of sharing a yard with Eleanor for a couple of years, and getting to know her better as we gardened and cooked and cleaned together.
Some of Eleanor’s gifts were actual physical items. A stainless steel electric skillet that I cooked countless suppers in, replaced the handles and the cord and kept on using it for well over a decade before it died. A yogurt maker. Protein powder when I was expecting my first baby. The practical sorts of things that only someone who knows you well, and knows your needs well because she’s been there, would think to give you.
But most of Eleanor’s gifts to me didn’t come in a box. They came over years of conversations, came in the stories she shared, the advice she gave, came in the ways she wordlessly shared herself with me time after time.
Maybe everyone feels like this, but I felt like I didn’t have a lot in common with my peers. Maybe I’m just too old fashioned. Not many people my age were milking a cow, planting a huge garden, sewing clothing and quilts, or using a wringer washer when they started their families. In Eleanor, I found someone who not only didn’t think I was silly for doing those things, she had done them all and then some herself. She understood all about “doing the milk” and having a crazy stack of buckets piled in the kitchen. She had churned butter and made cottage cheese. She was an older sister in a big family who had helped her mother, cooked meals for her family, baked bread, and cared for her younger siblings. So was I.
Eleanor was the person I could ask questions such as “what kind of laundry soap do you use?” Not only had she used a wringer washer and cloth diapers, she didn’t have electricity, running water, or indoor plumbing when she started her family.
I was only tempted to disagree with her once, when she said, “Nobody gets their clothes dirtier than Hugh does!” I was pretty sure my husband was putting up some stiff competition in the dirty clothes department, but I kept my mouth shut and my ears open, and followed her advice to “Use good soap!”
In Eleanor, I found validation and encouragement. She had been in my shoes. When morning sickness hit, it was normal to throw up every morning and then eat breakfast, because then breakfast would usually stay down. It was good and right to walk through the days with your small children, helping them see and understand the world around them, seeing the world through their eyes, and talking to them about everything as you went. A messy house meant that you were doing things. It was important to do things like planting roses, creating artwork for your home, sewing for your family, and taking time to read good books.
When cooking for a crew, I stick to Eleanor’s example: meat and potatoes in large quantities, and “everything else you can think of.” “When life seems dark, wash your windows” has always held true. Sparkly clean windows lift my spirits every time. I’m still working on “don’t work so hard” and “take care of yourself.”
I’m not great at gift giving. It’s not my strong suit. But I hope that when it’s my turn to be someone’s “other mother” I can pass on the same kind of support, encouragement and love that I received from Eleanor.