She and I went together to World Youth Day in Sydney.  We traveled for seventeen days as a large group, consisting mostly of teens.  The relationship between my daughter and I started getting wobbly when she was a sophomore.  Like the four siblings before her, she “weirded-out” sophomore year and spent the next year and a half doing what teens do best, torturing their parents. My tendency to mother other teens is something she is mortified about. “Barbara” she says to me, “just mind your own business; they can figure it out.” She calls me by my first name when she is frustrated with the youth-minister-mother-to-the-world side of me.

None of my other children call me by my first name except on rare occasions when they don’t think I am listening to them.  She is different; she has had to deal with me the longest in my role as a Youth Minister.

That title has been a cause of much frustration for her.  Part of the problem is that the other teens tend to use her as my personal carrier pigeon; “Tell your mom I can’t come tonight,” or “What time do we have to be there?”

On our recent trip I had to act in both capacities, mother and youth minister. I guess YM would suffice in both cases, your mother or youth minister.  My titles got pretty blurred at times and, mind you, I wasn’t the only parent on that trip.  There was a whole lot of mothering going on and we mothers don’t draw the lines at just our own children.

There were other Youth Ministers on this pilgrimage as well.  You know the cool kind, the twenty-somethings in fashion savvy jeans with holes in all the right places.  They were just a few years older than the kids to whom they ministered.  Teens with those leaders got a whole lot of freedom and very few rules.  I suppose I may have been that way twenty-five years ago but, honestly, I believe I have been a mother in the making my whole life.

I am the oldest of five kids. It started a long time ago, when I really think about it.  Maybe it stems from some deep-seated need to boss something around that started about the time my brother was born.  Nonetheless, I don’t think it is a habit I’ll ever outgrow.  At times it is a heavy burden, I can’t even go about my daily tasks without seeing some situation that clearly needs a mother’s input.  I feel like there is a huge radar screen in my mind always scanning subconsciously for something to pop up – Red Alert! Red Alert! Target acquired, untied shoe at four o’clock. Danger! Danger! Launch Kleenex dead ahead.

My daughter seems to anticipate an impending attack and moves to intercept as quickly as she can. “No, mom!” she puts herself right in my path, “Barbara! Are you listening to me?” Sometimes she is successful, but mostly I am a missile poised on a target and she is no match. “Geez, I can’t believe you just did that. How embarrassing!” she sighs.

These days, I am trying to use more will power and to stay focused on simply harassing my own brood but, they are growing up, moving away, and don’t seem to come around as much.  I have all this “unused mothering” that seems to be going to waste.

It really does take will power and a real presence of mind to know when to act and when to walk by. If I daydream for very long I shift into my auto-mother piloting system and go off on a mission to save society from malnourished teens and snotty-nosed kids.

Just the other day I had to stop myself from asking a bunch of teens at the mall to clean up after themselves in the food court. I mean really… I can’t be the only mom on patrol in that big mall? 

I often ponder about our dear sweet Mother Mary and her life on earth. Having been preserved from Original Sin would have given her a real insight into the hearts of humanity.  Raising the Son of God would have given her all the experience she needed to assume “Mothership” as Jesus handed us over to her while he hung dying on the cross. 

As a mother, I can only imagine the pain, sorrow, and grief she must bear observing her children. It is my hope however, that we also offer her a chuckle from time to time and mostly that we cause her heart to sing with joy as we make our way on the right path towards her Son.  Knowing that she intercedes for us is a constant source of strength for me personally.

Tomorrow is a new day and school begins again. I will need to be on high alert because I am sure some kid will be most appreciative when I point out where the real crosswalk is located.