Worth More Than Rubies

Worth More Than Rubies
By Amor Gonzalez-Damaso

“Children, obey your parents in the Lord, for this is right. ‘Honor your father and mother,’ which the first commandment with promise: ‘”that it may be well with you and you may live long the earth.” Ephesians 6:1-3

She was born on the 3oth of May 1944, post-war and named after “Erlinda,” the Filipina who was raped and tortured by Japanese soldiers, whose name became a battle cry for our guerrillas. Both her parents were from Ilocos, descendants of our national hero Gabriela Silang. Her grandfather was one of the katipuneros who tore their cedula in Bagong Bayan.

She is often referred to as a “pastor’s pastor, simply because she takes time to listen to ministers about their concerns and woes and prays together with them, expecting the best. She is gentle when needed, but mostly she is tough. She will tell it to you as it is with no fear, her advice – take it or leave it. She gives highly inspiring sermons on the pulpit, offers a strong arm to lean on in times of trouble, her pocket is forever open, oftentimes giving the shirt off her back to anyone in need.

They call her “Ate Lyn,” “Tita Lyn,” “Sister Lynda,” “Pastora Lyn.”

I call her “Mamet.”

“Mamet” is an endearment I use to address my mom. On times when I poke fun at her, I call her by her first name, Erlinda.

As a child, I clearly remember her wearing a yellow robe with pink piping, in front of her dresser, cleaning her face with Tussy Lemon. I remember she read Bible stories to us before we went to bed, I remember packed our lunchboxes to school, and rushed us out the gate when Mang Ponso our school bus driver started honking. On our birthdays she baked cakes decorated with Nips and candles so we’d feel very special. Neighbors far and near would come to our door asking for stuff (sometimes even toothpaste!) and she’d be out in a jiffy, handing out more than they asked.

When I was in 3rd grade, I missed the school bus twice because I got too engrossed with play after school hours. At dusk I finally made it home, walking from St. Joseph’s College to our house in K-2nd Street in Kamuning, Quezon City. When I came, I remember the relief in her voice when she said, ‘O, good, nandito ka na, kakain na tayo. Galing mo, nahanap mo pauwi!” She didn’t cry, she didn’t spank me, didn’t make a big deal out of it.” But I learned a valuable lesson that day: Pay Attention. If I hadn’t observed and memorized the route to and from school, how else would I have gotten home?

As a single mother, she’d wake us up ever so gently to get us ready for school, cooking whatever meager meal there was available. During my rebellious years, she was quick to forgive, but very exacting in her discipline. At 15, I remember coming home tipsy from a friend’s house six houses away. She very patiently took me to my bed without saying word, yet in my state of stupor, I remember her closing the door behind her, her prayer for me very audible. My mom didn’t reprimand me when she found out I had a boyfriend (at 15!) but took it upon herself to befriend this guy who was four years my senior, inviting him over often. Had she been too strict, I wouldn’t have listened to her anyway. I cut classes, I partied, I smoked, I got drunk. She disciplined me in the way she knew how, but more importantly, she prayed. And she prayed. And she prayed some more.

When I crushed my little toe – my uncle and brother wrestled on a narra bench causing it to fall on my foot, I “nursed” myself for a week, staying home from school, literally crawling around the house because my toe hurt so much I didn’t want to walk. After a week of this going in on, my mom confronted me about my “weakness,” so we argued. Before I knew it, she took my maroon Saucony sneaker, took aim at my toe and bullseye! The pain was excruciating! But in my anger, I stood up and stormed out of the house. An hour later, I came home and we both smiled sheepishly. Again, she had won.

As her firstborn, much was expected of me. She couldn’t afford to baby me. I was never into the academe maybe because I started school too early. I think the only recognition I received in all my years, as a student was a “Best in Religion Award.” I loved History; I loved Psychology, English and Literature. I flunked Algebra my senior year in High School. I was what they called, an “unmarching graduate.” They will give me my diploma on the condition that I take summer classes. I hated it. Funds were low since my parents separated, so summer classes would’ve been a burden. So I worked. I have not stopped working since then.

When I turned 18, crazy in love and feeling very proud of myself for my accomplishment – that of being breadwinner at a very young age - my forebearing mother kicked me out of the house, saying I was uncontrollable. She said that since I was the eldest, I needed to learn how to live on my own, be independent, learn to manage my finances, learn life’s lessons so I could be an example to my four siblings. Her pained face, but her determined demeanor somehow stuck with me. She let me go, so that I would find my way home. It is a paradox that she has exercised countless time with the five of us.

I stopped dating for 12 years before I met my husband. Through those years, my mom became my counselor, my bestfriend, my confidante, my companion, my advisor, my “rah-rah” girl. When we were younger she’d say – especially to us girls – “Don’t get married so early, get a career first, learn to love and accept yourself and learn how to make money!” At 30, she was ready to kick me out again but loved me too much to do so. She’d often ask if I had a date Friday Nights, to which I would respond, I had cable and my books to keep me company.

I have countless stories to tell about her it could fill a book. There are countless words I could use to describe her. She is a daughter. Wife. Mother. Aunt.. Divorce’. Orphan. Grandmother. Child of God. Pastor. Evangelist. Missionary.

She is all these and more. But to me. She is and will always be my Mama Lyn. She is the voice in my head, constantly reminding me to do better. I sincerely believe that God chose her to be my mother, because no one else could’ve loved me and accepted me the way she does. I know that I wouldn’t be where I am today, if not for her faithfulness in praying for me. Jesus was her Savior and her Lord. He is mine, too. Because she has allowed the Lord to organize the mess in her life, I became confident that He would turn my life around, too.

Happy Mother’s Day and Happy Birthday, Mamet. I honor you today. You are an excellent woman with a heart so big, the world can fit in it. Thank you for your unconditional love. I am very proud of you! Your worth is far above rubies. (Proverbs 31:10b) I love you!