For My Mother

Last summer we had a party for my mother. I emailed my siblings and my father and asked each to send me a memory or a compilation of short memories which I published into a book for my mother which we gave her at the party.

The following is what I wrote for the book. I love her and hope she has a lovey mother's day.


Vignettes for my mother:

My life as a child, I remember in only still rosy moments- like photographs with gold dust. You were young and thin, with a long black braid or a low twisted bun that would be modestly wound around a simple band of leather pierced by wood. I watched you in wonder; not quite understanding you. There is the memory of you in your own mother’s driveway. You sat halfway in and halfway out of our car prying metal grommets from a tooled leather hair piece. The grommets fell lightly onto the pebbled driveway and I collected as many as I could. Those metal grommets were shiny and fancy to my young eye; yet to you they were silly and frivolous.
I sat mesmerized on the vanity on Main Street. It was a rare occasion; your hair was down and free. Someone had lent you a purple dress with a silver sash. I thought you looked the part of a princess and wondered why you didn’t always embrace this type of “pretty”. And then you were off to what I could only imagine as magical: the golden green ball.
Snow reached my mid-section as I stepped off the deck and drowned in a sea of white. A few feet ahead-barely discernable atop the snow, lay an unblemished lifeless owl. I cradled it in my arms, lamenting it’s death. You taught me to love even the least of these. The owl was beautiful to me; even in death. You wrapped him up and allowed me to take him to school. You allowed for the love of all life.
Stormy grey and golden eyed; the tom cat followed me down the alley. I named him Hearty. Unlike most mothers, you welcomed many a stray into your home. Matted fur, mangy paws--you were not easily dissuaded from loving and sharing. Yours was a half-way house for knocked-up felines. Illegitimate kittens found life under beds and in closets. My innate desire to love and to learn was fostered by your willingness to sacrifice and to share. You celebrate the simple miracles of life. I found kindred spirits in those kitties, and I thank you for allowing me that.
You, have never fallen prey to vanity. I, for some reason, loved the pretty from a very young age. Even in your aversion to make-up, hair-dos, and fashion, you allowed me to be myself and understood my need to “feel” pretty. I sat with you on the couch; you were patiently looking through a fashion magazine with me. I was 15, unsure of myself and regularly insecure. I pointed out a model who I found beautiful. You said that I reminded you of her because we had the same full lips. I’ve remember those words, even in times of feeling unattractive and worthless. It was important to you to make me feel pretty because you understood it was important to me.
I held my new firstborn in a dingy doctor’s visiting room. You looked on, silently encouraging me as I visited with the pediatrician about Norah’s head and while she received her pku pokes. Tired and still building up a lost blood supply, I gingerly redressed Norah. You quickly hugged me and told me that I was a good mother. New to my calling I needed that encouragement from the woman I consider to be the ultimate mother.
You are in almost every respect what a mother should be: patient, long suffering, charitable, kind, encouraging, selfless, resourceful, hard working, gentle, disciplined, loyal, and loving. When friends desert, disappointments come, pain afflicts, and all else fails; my mother loves me. I know this. I dread the day when I am without you; besides the Savior you are the rock in my life. You are true.
I once read in a fiction novel of a woman testify to a grand jury that when asked where she came from, she said she came from her mother. The older I become the more I realize the truth in this; you are where I come from. You are my pathway back always, to home, warmth and happiness. I could not ask for better than you, even if you don’t like red lipstick.
I love you and pray I will be able to follow in your footsteps.