As my childhood memories swirl around in my head, there are certain (sometimes silly) things that stand out to me the most…
I remember her potato soup. (Hmm, think I’ll make that for dinner tonight!)
I remember when she cut my bangs too short and I had to go to school the next day. She used it as a lesson on self-esteem. She told me not to act embarrassed, otherwise I would be. That I should hold my head high instead of walking with it bowed down. I did that, bangs sticking straight out and everything.
I remember singing ‘opera’.
I remember how hard she worked when we moved out of our Lady’s Island house. She never whined or complained, just worked along side my Dad to get it done.
I remember her getting up when it was still dark. She made my dad sandwiches. She drank her coffee. And she read God’s Word. Every. Single. Morning.
I remember her talking through her teeth when she got mad. I think I do that.
I remember when she told us we would be home schooled. I was excited and mortified at the same time. Mortified because, “Well, what about my friends!!??!!”
I remember how hard homeschooling was in the beginning and that she didn’t give up when it would have been so much easier.
I remember her reading Star of Light to us. And her tears dropping on the page.
I remember her telling me that I could be different. That I didn’t have to be a rebellious teenager. That we could still have a relationship. That it only had to be as hard as we made it.
I remember going through a time when I wished I were in a different family. But she stayed faithful to me even when I wasn’t.
I remember her packages that came while I was in college. She sent me bran muffins. And garlic pills one time. I had to stop taking them when my deodorant was no longer masking the smell. That’s when I learned of my extreme sensitivity to garlic of any kind. I love it, but you know it when I’ve eaten it!
I remember our long talks over chips and salsa. Her encouragement. Her exhortation. Her honesty and bluntness that I came to admire so much. I wanted to be like that. To not be afraid or hide behind pretty smiles. To be real with people and with myself.
Mom, you’ve taught be so much. I don’t even think I realize just how much. I love being your daughter, being apart of you. And now living in your ‘front’ yard. I still see you get up every morning to have your time with the Lord. You still challenge me and convict me and encourage me. Even when you make me mad. =)
Thanks for surrendering to motherhood all those years ago. For showing me how to. For walking with me when I wanted to throw the towel in. For encouraging me to keep going. And for teaching me how to be a woman who isn’t afraid to be real and what it means to live a life pleasing to the Lord.
I love you.