My Inner Lion-ness

Scene: Burning reddish-orange with the tint of a dark purple lining the horizon overcast the meadow lands. Dusk slowly sets in. A baby cub is seen sneaking away from the pride. His father, the King of the pride, will not be able to protect his son for he has already left to go hunting. A pack of hyenas pick up the scent of the nearby young cub as he wonders further away. The hyenas slowly inch closer to their late night snack. The scene fades to black with only the laughter of the hyenas being heard. The scene fades back in with the visual of the cub being carried off. The cub’s mother, the lioness, gently sets the cub down back with the pride. The overprotective lioness had come to the rescue.

When we hear of a lion, first thing we usually only think of are the courageous, heroic, and leadership roles of the biggest mane male lion. He is the King of the jungle, with a roar that seems to be heard half way around the world. He defends his territory, fighting all off that dares to challenge his authority. Indeed, he is all of these things, yet he can not be ever where at once; as seen in the scene above. Once the female lion, the lioness, conceives her children, she becomes inseparable with them, mothering them still into their adult years. The lioness is very overprotective of her young. If she does not feel that her cub is safe, often it is seen that she will venture off either secluded to raise on her own, or to another pride. The caring heart of the lioness does not go unnoticed, for she not only cares and nurses her own, but also lends a helping hand to other cubs within the same pride; often of relation. Another characteristic to take notice is the playful attitude that is exhibited with her offspring even in the later years. The male lion does not have much interaction with the young cubs contrary to the popular kid’s movie, The Lion King. Although the lion showcases power and strength, it is not the best of parent. The lioness takes on that role.

Many times when telling my story I often tend to focus on one side of my life that allows me to revisit the dark sides, and show how I was able to overcome those struggles by bringing them to light. Those dark times more than often reflect on the influence that my father had on me, and how it shaped me into who I am today. I have to apologize for anyone that has read my work knowing it consists solely of that. I have led my readers to believe that there was no one that had a positive influence on my life. Indeed, I was miraculously able to turn the negative memories into positive, but what about those already positive? To keep a battery charged and working, it must have positive and negative electrons and neutrons fueling it. Those positive electrons that keep me going, and have gotten me through many situations are fueled by non other than Karen Lynn Gibson, my mother. Like the lioness, my mother was always there to pull me away from my ongoing situation and keep me safe. It was not until a few years into my adult life that I realized the impact my mother had on the making of what I have become currently. Without her, I can not say with a straight face that I would have been ok getting through my struggles. Yes, I can associate mistakes she made with events that have occurred throughout the years, but of those I can not assign the blame to her. A long struggle for happiness was not of her concern, yet was her hard fighting struggle to ensure that her children had what they needed in life rather than wanted that got her through it all. The lioness; the role my mother would take.

The continuous strides my mother made were not seen as a struggle in my eyes at a young age, yet it was evident. We did not have much, but we had enough to get by; she made sure of that. A beautician at heart who picked up odd jobs that did not fit her demeanor was only so she could help make ends meet within the household. Many times I remember the tireless nights that were spent in the dim lit room, as her shoulders hung over the infamous sewing machine bringing to life what would later become an outfit of some sorts for my sisters; all three. A woman who set aside her dreams and aspirations so that her children may have a chance at something she was not so privileged to partake in. The cub slowly becomes a lion only by the nurturing love, and life lessons provided by his mother. From the countless nights that she read the already memorized books to me, to the late night pillow fights that would routinely start as she taught me how to properly make her bed. From the relentless faith she had in God as she taught our weekly bible study to ensure it would grow in us later on, to the efforts she made to give my sister and I the best education possible by sacrificing all she had just to send us to a Christian private school. Her lioness tendencies did not stop there, for even years after all her children left her sight she still has always been there whether it had been financially, or simply just motivation words to help us along the way. The lioness, the Queen of the pride; my mother. It is the lioness that often breaks away from the pride to raise her young on her own. It is the lioness that risks her life on a daily as she hunts so that she may provide food for her family. The caring heart of the lioness is exactly what God has instilled in me; derived from my mother. Much respect is given to a woman that readjusted to put her life on hold so that years later her offspring would see her struggle and understand how she, through all of her trials and tribulations, was undoubtedly able to succeed as a mother. The lioness, a role my mother played very well.