Unspoken Words
Dear Mom,
Calling you is just a few convenient clicks away, but somehow the words I want to say never get across on the phone. I’m hoping my romantic fantasy with ink and paper will translate to reality, and that this letter will convey all those unspoken appreciations that get buried in the shuffle of daily college life.
It’s 11 pm, which is past my bedtime but psets and papers are now my best friends, and they're keeping me up. I can’t go to bed any time soon though since I’ve procrastinated yet again and a pile of thermo work is sitting conspicuously, unopened in my ambitiously stuffed backpack. This seems to happen a lot more than I like to admit (maybe more than I ever tell you either). I often wish God could just endow me with a power packed combo of Solomon’s wisdom with Danielesque diligence, or that Jesus would come again before my Monday 1:30 pm deadlines, but I know, I know–it’s not right to pray for last minute miracles to cover for the multitudes of my laziness. And yes, you’d probably have prevented me from getting to this point if you were here, mom.
But you’re not, and the clock is still ticking away without any work miraculously disappearing - like I’m irrationally hoping for. If you were to appear now, you’d chastise me with an exasperated sigh, and then come back with a plate of cut up apples for late night studying; even though it is my fault that I’m exhausted and completely unmotivated. Mom, I confess that this is probably why I bombed all my chemistry classes last semester, as much as I like to say that Prof. Soos made quantum mechanics sound like Chinese in a Transylvanian accent. I’m really my own undoing, but I know somehow you are still proud to call me your daughter. Sometimes I feel like it’s a title I don’t deserve.
I know you’re tired too. When I call you to complain about classes or break down on the phone because some lady ran off with my laptop, you patiently listened even though you’ve had your own rough day at home running between classroom observations and picking up Matthew from school, while squeezing in dinner between your term papers. I forget that you’re in school too because you’re so good at being mom.
Did I ever tell you that I want to be just as good of a mother as you are to me? That, I really thank God for having someone like you in my life? I’m sorry that I nag you sometimes at home to feed Faith and Matthew healthy food and to be stricter with Matt about computer game time. I don’t want to usurp or undermine your role. For every one of those negative comments, I could sing ten different praises of your wonderful Christian leadership inside and outside the home, your generous giving of affection and time, your awesome cooking, your thoughtfulness of others… If I could be the kind of mom you exemplified, I know I’d be giving my children a truly priceless gift.
College is not easy and you know that, since you’ve been there. Doing schoolwork and struggling with campus ministries while worrying about boys and future plans can easily consume my life, but thankfully I have a mom like you who keeps me sane. I’ll call tomorrow, I promise.
Love,
Victoria
Victoria Chung hails from Poughkeepsie, NY and is a chemistry major at Princeton
University. She thanks God for her wonderful family and friends that put up with
her numerous attempts at vegan cooking and love of depressing films, exciting
bible studies, and spring time walks under magnolia trees. She is still on the search
for indie Christian songs, which she pretends is a thing.