I have the honor of calling a wonderful woman my mother. She is a woman of convictions, of patience, of genuine love that comes pouring with the sweetness of a summer rain. She is beautiful, inside and out. She has taught me so many things over the years
When I lost my faith, when I lost myself, my mother never stopped praying. She didn’t push me, didn’t expect me to find inner peace and clarity all at once. She just prayed. Sitting with her the morning after my convalidation against the cool wood of the pew, I knew that this was the fulfillment of her prayer. I received Christ as if for the first time and she held my hand as I wept.
Clean Home is a Welcoming Home
My mom has always kept a neat and tidy house. It’s uncluttered and shows a lot of love in the dusting of shelves and the nearly edible floor. It’s something I aspire to, but always fall short on. In a someday I’d like my home to be like that, a place that doesn’t need a ten second (ten hour?) tidy before someone comes over. For now, I'll keep chipping away at my clutter, trying to establish the good habits my mom has created in herself and aspiring to the standard she has set for herself.
Work Pays Off
In the above, this is very much true. My mom is dedicated to a lot of things, her family, her house, her health. It’s rarely easy, in fact, most of the time it’s impossibly hard. If you ever have the opportunity to take her cycling class, you’ll see her in her true form. Each uphill climb and pool of sweat around are proven worthwhile by the spin of her chiseled legs.
Okay to Need Help
And it’s okay to ask for it. We’ve had a tough year, few years, Paul and I. We’ve had ups and downs and until recently, it was mostly downs. Every time I felt like we were at the end of our rope or we couldn’t hack it anymore (the bills, the scheduling, the stress) she was there. Whether just as a person to talk to, or for financial support, or for just someone to sit with in silence, my mom is always there.
My mom and I communicate best with the written word. In periods of unrest, we have lettered, e-mailed, facebooked, and texted our words, each carefully thought out and placed to best portray what we were trying to say. She bought me the notebook that I wrote my first story in. She gave me the scads of journals I filled in my youth. She has edited and read and encouraged my journey as a writer. I will never stop being grateful for that.
isn’t Anything a Cup of Tea Can’t Fix
So many of my memories involve hot cups of tea, sweet and creamy, a solution to all things. Give me a broken heart, an imperfect soul, a sad, sad day and I’ll give you a cuppa, just like she would, just like she does.
Just a Sunset Away From Tomorrow
My parents built their house on top of a hill for the perfect, 360 degree view. Every single day, my mother takes a moment to watch the sunset. It’s an explosion of color, out here, a painter’s paradise. Seeing her appreciate God’s artwork has made me appreciate it. Each sunset signifies the ending of a day and the beginning of a new one. New life, new hope, new chances to get it right.
Thank you, Mom. For teaching me, for loving me, for always being there for me. I’m so proud to call you my mother, to call you the grandmother of my children. We have so many wonderful memories. Writing this post was hard because I had to narrow them down, to make finite all the things that you have taught me. You have brought seven people into this world, all incredibly blessed to call you their own. I love you, more than there are words.
P.S. I’m still learning. See number two J