A mother’s love

Tiita Channing Arce raised 10 children.  As her brood grew, so did her nurturing spirit.  She took delight in serving daily meals to her children and grandchildren, aside from shopping and going on trips abroad with them.  She also treated the friends of her children like her own, showering them with lots of affection and concern.  I was one of her “adopted” daughters. 

One time, on the way to their farm, I thought of buying some green plants from the nurseries lining the road.  Just when I was about to pay, Tita Channing asked me, “Hija, how much are they charging you for those potted plants?”  “P15.50 each.  Isn’t that a steal, Tita?”  I bragged. She gave a faint smirk and said, “Leave it up to me.”  She entered the nursery and emerged after a few minutes, grinning.  The owner walked closely behind her.  Curious now, I asked, “Tita, how much did she charge you?”  She replied. “P3.85 per pot.”  I almost fainted.  

Tita Channing enjoyed listening to her children and their anecdotes and funny stories.  But being from the old school, she could not understand jokes pertaining to sex and physical intimacy, thus, becoming the center of ribbings from her lot.  “Where’s the punch line?” she asked.  Her children rolled with laughter.  “Mom, you gave birth to 10 of us and you still remained clueless about the birds and the bees?  What were we?  Ten virgin births?” roared Elsie, the ate or eldest daughter.  Tita Channing laughed at her naiveté and her inexperience with the changing world, but she was quick to adapt to modern technology.  Her daughters could not watch any telenovela without her because she always had something witty to say that made TV viewing more pleasurable. 

And that’s why her brood took her for granted.  “We expected her to live forever,” said Cynthia, the third daughter.  “The thought of her waiting for us with a hot meal or simply be comforted by her warm presence has been permanently etched in my mind,” said Mauritz, one of the grandsons. 

Last Christmas Eve, Tita Channing left her family in profound grief.  “She was our strength and our shield,” cried Mida, the fourth daughter.  “We didn’t notice it,” said Maurita, the diche or second daughter.  “She rarely argued, but her influence was deep and sweeping, something that we didn’t grasp at that time.”  When she was laid to rest, the children resolved to honor her memory by staying united and caring for each other, just like what she would have wished and prayed for. 

How often have we ignored or have taken our mothers for granted?  Children assume an easy-going attitude, showing a casual, comfortable, sometimes-inattentive attitude towards her.  The pangs of conscience do not set in until the heart of the home has gone. 

This is why we should celebrate children, who, in a spark of realization, actually get down on their knees, to thank God for their mothers.  

Take the case of my niece Tin-tin: “I could not convince my mom that I was old enough to take care of myself.  She insisted to stop whatever she was doing to collect me from school, every day..One afternoon, we were crossing a busy thoroughfare and Mom was facing the ongoing traffic.  I heard a car come to a screeching halt, but my mom was quick to push me forcefully out of harm’s way.  I landed on the grassy island, safe and unscathed but groggy from the impact.  I feared the worst and screamed for my mother.  I saw her waving earnestly on the opposite side of the street, far from where I landed.  How did she get there?  Even the driver who immediately got out of his car could not believe his eyes.  He swore that he felt and heard a solid bump, a collision — ‘I knew I hit something or someone,’ he confessed.  I rushed to where she stood up to brush the dirt off her knees while I was beyond myself with worry.   â€˜Mom, what happened?’ She shook her head and answered, ‘I don’t know.  I saw the car careening towards me, but before I could shield myself, everything turned hazy and here I am.’ (Pointing at the concrete pavement.)

 â€œIt took days before it sank in.  I could have lost my mom.  The following Sunday, at church, I was sobbing and thanking God and Mom’s guardian angel for saving her.” 

Do you remember Betty Mahmoody who wrote about her harrowing experience in Iran entitled Not without My Daughter?  She was visiting the family of her Iranian husband with their young daughter when their holiday turned into abduction.   One of Tita Channing’s granddaughters, Kitty, went through the same ordeal. She was duped by her husband and in-laws. When she realized that they were out to abduct her son, she made several attempts to spirit him away.

Kitty’s husband and her in-laws threw the book at her (harassment, intimidation, deportation, etc.)  Her movements were strictly monitored, including limiting to only four hours her daily visit to her son who was kept in his father’s house together with his grandparents while Kitty was banned from staying in the same house.   Helpless, stranded, and far from home, Kitty steeled herself.  She filed a custody case in a foreign court knowing that she may not get a fair trial. The court was seesawing between appeals that extended and delayed the issuance of a final verdict. So much time wasted, leaving Kitty drained of spent emotion. 

Sadly, Tita Channing passed on without seeing Kitty’s case resolved. However, when things were coming to a head start, someone suggested, “Let’s pray to Tita Channing and ask her to mount an appeal in heaven on behalf of Kitty.”

It worked.

Kitty was granted custody of her son and she immediately took the first direct flight to Manila with her son.  Home at last.  

Again, it was a cause for celebration — of a mother who never gave up on her son and a grandmother’s loving intercession even  from up above.

What would it take to know the extent of a mother’s love?