Remembering Mom

These thoughts mark the second Mother's Day without my Mom...

In many ways my life has been different from my mother’s.  I’ve lived a single life, achieved a college education, had a professional career, lived in big cities and have learned how to make it on my own.

Yet there is so much more we shared in common, and the values and character traits she worked to instill in my life have united her with me in far-reaching and profound ways.

I share her nurture, patience and compassion for children. She demonstrated that not only for her own children, but many others as well. I think of all the time and energy she put into leading my scout troop and giving swimming lessons to the neighborhood kids.   My first career was in service to families having young children with significant developmental disabilities.  What challenge and joy there was in helping families care for the special needs of their children and help them achieve their developmental potential.

I share my mother’s love of homemaking, making simple foods from scratch, trying new re

cipes, bringing joy to the family table with a special meal, setting the holiday table with tablecloth, china and the crystal glass ware, making a house a home.

I share my mother’s penchant for fun and joy with friends and family.  I think of the creative ways she taught and cared for her children without reliance on television.  I treasure the good memories of the family reunions held at my parents’ house and loved experiencing the bond with extended family. 

I share my mother’s love of using our hands to create things of purpose and beauty. She worked alongside me to complete my school and 4-H projects, and in selecting fabrics for my sewing projects and then finding just the right accessories.  She brought beauty to her home with her many pieces of needlework and artfully displayed collection of depression glassware.

I share my mother’s  values of simple yet practical life skills such as cleaning up after oneself, following through on commitments, sharing with others, working out our differences and putting in a good day’s work. 

I’m especially thankful for the seeds of faith she planted in my life at a young age, and how those seeds have grown and sustained me through some difficult times.

And in her last days I was able to bring her some comfort with tender words, a gentle touch, a song, a kiss.  In fact my last conversation with her was a bittersweet mix of a song and a kiss.  At the time I didn’t know it was the last, but perhaps somehow she did and her mother’s heart rose to the surface even in her pain and confusion.

From my first moments of life to her last, she was there for me. I am forever grateful.