One time when I was reading about early portrait photography, I was fascinated to learn about the “invisible” mother. Because it took cameras so long to shoot, and kids couldn’t sit still that long, mothers would be hidden under blankets or rugs while their children sat in their laps and could be held still. I believe that’s exactly what happened in this photo of my mother when she was a toddler. There’s even a hand on the right side of the photo. How much more would she have loved a photo of her mother holding her?
Another thing I notice is the embroidery on the hem of her dress. Most likely her mother made the dress and did the embroidery. It reminds me of a story Mother told me late in her life that was still bothering her.
The two siblings closest to her in age were both boys, and in order to tag along with them, she had to be a tomboy. She often compared herself to Scout in To Kill a Mockingbird, always wearing the boys’ hand-me-downs and playing as roughly as they did. One Christmas her mother made her a dress with a bodice full of painstaking hand-smocking. My mother was reluctant to put it on, but her sisters finally convinced her it was okay to wear a dress. When she walked into the room, her brothers all began to tease her. They hurt her feelings so much that she pulled the dress over her head and threw it in the fire.
Oh, how she squirmed when she told me that story, regretting that she’d been so hateful and broken her mother’s heart that way. Finally I said, “Mother. If Debby or I had done that to you, how would you have felt?”
“I’d have been furious!” she said.
“And then what?”
She thought about it a minute and said, “It would have become one of those stories we told every Christmas and laughed about.”
I think she finally realized that her mother probably forgave her before that dress was even ashes, and she was finally able to forgive herself.
It amazes me how long we can carry self-inflicted guilt. When those who love us forgive us so readily, why won’t we forgive ourselves?
We are all a weird mix of selfish and gracious, insecure and resilient, childish and mature.
Also known as human. My planet finds you fascinating. 😉
For me, self-forgiveness is the most difficult form of forgiveness there is.
It’s strange, isn’t it? You’d think we’d be kinder to ourselves.