The gift my mother gave me

The Gift My Mother Gave Me

At a time in my life when everything seemed in place — a good job, great friends, and what I thought was the perfect boyfriend — my mother gave me a gift.

I’d already turned down versions of this gift before.
My sister had offered it. So had a close friend.
Both had tried gently, then less gently, to help me see that the relationship I was in wasn’t good for me.

“You’re not yourself when you’re with him.”
“You’re setting yourself up for a big hurt.”

All true, of course.
I ignored every word.
I was in love. It would all work out.

Then one day, during a visit, my mother looked at me and said quietly:

“I notice that you don’t sing anymore.”

That was it.
No lecture. No warning. Just that.

It took me a couple of years — and one very broken heart — to understand what she’d really said.

After all, if your heart isn’t singing,
how can your mouth?

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I think of her words often now.
They’ve become my quiet rule for happiness:

Find what makes your heart sing,
and do it as often as you can