Very early this a.m., in the wisp of dawn, I came across a hefty portion of the inheritance received from my mother, rediscovered tucked into one of the books I was tucking back into their honored place in The Retreat's bookshelves.
Mom didn’t
leave much in the way of well-padded bank accounts or carefully tended stock
portfolios. She was like one of those
contests I entered as a kid – you had to be present to win. Those who were present in Mom’s life won BIG,
as I was reminded this morning.
There is something wonderful about handwritten letters v.
typed. As soon as I saw the stationary –
5.5 x 7.5” – knew who wrote it. And the
handwriting – seeing it brings me immediately into Mom’s presence, writing the
letter on the wide arm rest of her big chair with a view out the living room
window, the one Brenda always described as “in the Stickley style.”
Background: Mom usually wrote out copies of important
letters she sent as record of what she’d said.
My stomach lurched on the rare occasion when she didn’t; it
was a sure sign the letter shouldn’t have been written in the first place. One time, a short time before the
letter next to me was written, she fired one off to “young” Alfred Acton (not
the one who married m parents in ’36), who had performed a baptism;
Mom wrote him a note, castigating him for it since she believed the person was involved in very public hanky panky - a belief based solely on
something heard from someone else, aka back-biting gossip, which she loathed Will always remember coming home from work
to her crowing uncharacteristically about how I'd be proud of how she stood up for principle, how she’d really given him a piece of
her mind, had made sure it got off in the afternoon mail – wasn’t I pleased with her standing up for what was right? No, I was shocked. And appalled when I asked to see what she’d
written & she got sort of quiet & said she hadn’t kept one. Stars to Mom that she immediately saw what
she’d done, was even more horrified than I, sat write down & wrote another
note, apologizing for the first, looking back with a shaken confidence at how easily she’d fallen prey to negative thoughts & destructive
actions. I heard from a deeply moved Alfie how the first letter troubled him, the second left him awed with Mom's ability to see the error & right it. Looking back, it strikes me that she might not have written the letter she sent Peter without that earlier pair.
Back to my inheritance….
For the first time, was struck by the date at the top - - “12-8-2000.” Did Mom use the non-USA way of dating out of
deference for Peter Buss’ Anglo-South African roots? And noticed the letter is addressed “Dear Peter,” not
what I would have expected, not “Dear Bishop Buss” (as
in Executive Bishop Peter Buss; the current Rt Rev Peter Buss would have still
been spreading his ministerial wings back in ’00). After rereading the short note, understand why –
she wrote to him as a full equal.
12-8-2000
Dear Peter
Is true that you said that questioning
ladies were forbidden to use any Church building for their meetings or is that
a mistake.
If it is true, I think that
everyone has a right to be heard. If we
don’t agree with them, that’s alright, too.
We do need to discuss this, together.
I am one of those ladies,
although I don’t believe women should be priests. That is only my opinion. I do believe that women could help the
priests in their understanding of people in the church. I think that women could have more of a part
in the administration. (Mom
told me the actual letter included “at all levels”).
Take care, Peter.
Cordially, Kay Lockhart
That is the sort of thinking that I grew up with – respectfully hearing out others &
expecting to be heard in return. Not
agreed with – heard I saw that every day
in my parents’ relationship. My
sister-in-laws seemed to experience Mom as dominated by Dad; maybe they couldn’t
translate what they heard, which were true partners who were crazy in love with
each other.
Sadly, Dad died at 63, when Mom was just a year younger
than I am now. It was the third early,
heart-ripping early death to shake her life.
She changed, became sort of a door mat for her children. A trait she’d always shown with Peter &
Mim, even when Dad was alive, took deeper root – she’d change her point of view
as others revealed theirs, making sure they were similar. It worked for my older sibs & s-i-l, but
drove me around the bend. Took Mom
almost 25 years, but she finally realized the WHY behind her verbal/emotional “shadow
boxing” – on her own, without Dad’s faith in her boosting her confidence, she
didn’t have a clue about her WHO.
Clearly, by the time she wrote her letter to Peter, she’d
gotten wise to the ways of Katharine Reynolds Lockhart. She was ninety. She was born in 1910, raised in an era where
women were politically invisible, then expected to naturally defer to men,
where the laity were meant to take the pronouncements of a Divinely-inspired,
all-male priesthood as gospel. And she wrote
a letter to the Executive Bishop of her church as if he was a good friend
sitting across the kitchen table, sharing a cuppa with her.
Can you think of a better inheritance to leave a
child. I can’t.
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