WWMD?
What WOULD Mom do, and what would I do with the answer now?
I’ve desperately wished I could ask Mom’s opinion on several things recently.
Today, I wanted to ask her how to approach a colleague and talk about something sensitive. Yesterday, I wanted to ask her if I should take a writing gig that pays less than I want, but is something I’m very interested in and excited about. The other week I wanted to ask her if I should give that guy a second chance or no.
Etc.
This is my life: an ongoing list of questions in my mind, vaguely pointed in her direction, because in her absence I don’t really know where they should land. There are other good landing spots for these questions (my intuition said NO to the date and YES to the gig. My sisters and friends advised on the work situation; they are wonderful) but I don’t always want them to land there, truth be told. I could have all the great advice in the world and only ever want hers.
So often, it’s just a constant WWMD, WWMD, wwmd1 rattling around in my brain, hoping for a little insight into the advice she’d give me.
Luckily for me, I often actually already know what it would be. My mom was whip-smart and knew everything, but was kind of a one-trick pony when it came to giving advice. Well, five tricks, because these are the five things I know she’d tell me in 99% of situations:
Trust God. Hand it over to Him, sweetie. (Basically, FROG and PUSH. Iykyk.2)
Go for a walk and clear your head.
Take every opportunity that comes your way. Go for it.
It’s too late to make life decisions now. Sleep on it. Everything is better in the morning.
Speak up and talk it out; don’t avoid it.
It comforts me that these tidbits of advice are locked and loaded in my brain. I’ve even found them written in old text messages and cards; they’re still with me. I love that she’s already given me the best of what she had and that it’s sunk deep enough into my psyche to take root there.
Because her advice has already helped guide a lot of my decisions in the years since her death. I have prayed, walked, done things, slept, and talked, all at her direction. Her advice has helped me make both important and frivolous decisions throughout my life.
There are other times, though, when I’ve not done what I know she’d tell me to do. I think she would have told me to give the guy another shot (“you never know, hon”), but I did not. The vibes were off, and I don’t think she would have gotten that explanation. I sometimes wonder what she’d think of my writing career, too. I know she’d be proud in many ways, but I think she’d push me to push myself — to do something more leader-y. She saw herself in me, her business-minded, call-the-shots self. I see it too, but I’m happy where I am. I wonder what she’d think of it all and how well I’m using my potential.
And I think that might be the hardest part of it all. It’s not the “what would mom do” question permanently occupying a little corner of my brain and can’t actually ask her advice, but that I don’t agree with her all the time about everything. I didn’t before when she was alive, of course, but after she died, I pulled her up a few rungs on the pedestal I always had her on and found it very hard to disagree or critique anything about her. I still find it hard. And I still don’t want to think anything bad of her. I’m not saying that me disagreeing with her advice would be bad - that’s normal and good for me to have my own ideas and thoughts. I keep reminding myself that I am an adult, after all. It’s just that it would point to a different truth: time has passed, and I have grown, and I’m not exactly sure how I’d relate to my mom in every situation anymore. I know there would be respect and listening and talking about it all… But I just don’t know how all those conversations would go now that I’m a different person. But — am I a different person because she died? Yes. So she has never given advice to this version of me, and I’ve never responded to it.
It’s hard, this time thing. It keeps moving, as you know. I’m going to keep wondering WWMD for years to come, but time has already told me that my perception of that answer matters and comforts me — her five pillars of advice are good and guiding — but there’s already separation from it. And that is hard.
It’s both things, always both things in grief.
If this didn’t automatically trigger memories of Bible camp in the 90s and immediately recognize it as a play on WWJD - what would Jesus do? - then maybe this photo will give you context. This was the truest height of fashion in the 90s and early 2000s.
And if you don’t know, these were other bracelets you could get alongside the WWJD ones. They mean “Fully Rely On God” and “Pray Until Something Happens.” Cool kids wore them all at once.