Monday, July 14, 2014

Mom's Dream, My Reality

When Mom graduated from high school in 1932 (having skipped two grades), the Great Depression prevented her from realizing her dream of attending college. An avid reader, she'd wanted to be a writer. So when I learned to type, she decided to achieve her dream vicariously through me.

In high school, I took Creative Writing for three years, followed by Mr. Shough's Writing Skills class. If I'd wanted to pursue a different course of study, I suppressed such inclinations. Dutifully, I even took Latin to fulfill my foreign language requirement because Mom thought it would help my English vocabulary.

With Mom at my college graduation
I chose to attend Dominican University of California, and she convinced me to major in English Literature with an emphasis on writing. Although counseling interested me more, the one psychology class I took ran so counter to Biblical teaching that I gratefully acquiesced to her plan for my college career by sticking with English  Lit.  And so, adoring Sister Nicholas as she led me  from Chaucer and Dante to Tennyson and the Brownings, I enjoyed the college experience that Mom had wanted for herself.

At various times during my early adulthood, I resented Mom for pushing writing on me. I know my choice to work as a correspondence counselor and newsletter editor for an ex-gay ministry disappointed her, despite the fact that my job required writing skills. Christian ministry hadn't factored into her plan for me. But she supported me anyway.

These past eight years of blogging have renewed my love for writing. Regretfully, Mom had a phobia about computers (our two conversations on Skype using my sister's laptop thoroughly bewildered her), so she only got to read a couple of my posts. But I appreciate all she did to make me a writer-turned-blogger. This blog has given me the delight in writing that the Great Depression never permitted her to enjoy, and I praise God that, because of her, I can keep this blog. Thanks, Lord, that I followed Mom's dream.

1 comment:

  1. She knew. Families don't always agree on every topic, but there is no question she was proud of the woman you grew to become. I will miss her, too.


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