tuesday offering: st. teresa of spa city

a blessing honoring my favorite saint

Happy All Hallows to all the Saints and the Aints!

(thank you Jackie Hill Perry for that line)

This is my first installment of what I’m calling “Tuesday offerings”. I have a lot of loves in my life, but the ones that occupy my thoughts the most (other than my boys) are food and wine (yes, that’s one category), poetry, and spirituality. To be frank, I think the three go together pretty well. I’m hoping that you’ll look forward to these scribbles because I want them to be brief, light-hearted, and helpful, but not in a self-help way. More in a “I see you because I want these things in my life too” way.

But I also can’t ignore the fact that I’m posting this on All Hallows and I’d be remiss not to talk about my favorite saint to ever live: my mother.

My mom, Teresa, with my older cousins before I was born.

It’s not lost on me that her name was Teresa, spelled the same as Teresa of Calcutta and Teresa of Ávila. Like these women she was wise, kind, and stronger than anyone I have ever known. She was a victim of abuse, an advocate for the disabled, a voice for the voiceless. She was the woman you wanted in your corner. My mother was a radiant spirit—to know her was to love her. She had the most sincere laughter that would hit falsetto notes when she was particularly tickled. She had the most beautiful blonde hair, which she was robbed of while undergoing chemotherapy. You couldn’t come into her home without being fed (well) and she was someone who you could truly trust. The secrets I thought were too dark for the Almighty were couched safely in my mother’s heart. Later in life, I found out that she also held onto the secrets of many of my high school friends—she was the mother we all wanted and the one I was blessed enough to have. She was our safe space.

To top it all off, mom could “hang”. She loved a crisp pinot grigio, and was the queen of midnight popcorn and movies. She was an insane cook, hated her bra, and would walk barefoot in her garden in the cool of the morning where her chickens would follow her around like trained puppies. She was known to get in her car and drive to look for rainbows after thunderstorms. No one loved the ocean more than she did and some of my fondest childhood memories were watching my mom snorkel in waist high water in the emerald waves of the Gulf coast. She would dominate a kitchen dance party and casually wipe the floor with you in a game of Spades. If you were sick, she was at your door with a casserole. If you needed a listening ear, she was quiet. When you were heartbroken, she held you. She wasn’t perfect, but the way she loved came close.

Saint Teresa and yours truly at age two

I can’t put my mom’s legacy into a few sentences—it’s a mosaic of love that cannot be summarized—but whether you knew her for years or for a few moments, you would feel seen and loved. No pretenses, no judgements. Just radical hospitality whether it was around the Thanksgiving table or in the checkout line at Wal-Mart. I am a believer in Christ’s death, resurrection, and love because of her.

So for this first Tuesday offering, I’m sharing a blessing I think my mother would give if she were here. She was the first to believe in my writing and so in honor of her memory, here’s a blessing in memory of my sweet mother, Saint Teresa of Spa City:

May your nights be warm and your popcorn salty.
May you greet the open hands of children with generosity and hospitality.
May you dance under a moon that dictates the tides and was made for your delight.
May your friends remind me you of the blessing you are in their life.
May you bless your friends with your very presence.
May a jack-o-lantern remind you that we are souls ablaze with Christ’s triumph.
Forever living, trampling death daily, leaning on an eternal promise.
May you let go of hurt and allow it to dissipate like your breathe on the cold night air.
May you revel in the joy of those who loved you well.
May you love those around you with reckless abandon.
Remember that those who are gone are not lost to you.
They are the cloud of witnesses who hold you in eternal love.
May we hold those who have gone before us in our hearts
Remember their legacies of love
Do the work still before us
And live well.
Even when things feel spooky.

Amen.


Happy All Hallow’s Eve friends. Let’s celebrate the saints who have gone before us. If you have someone you are remembering today, I’d love to hear about them in the comments.

Always,
Emily