Not when he married me, but later, the hubby told me that he couldn’t believe I did so many things like his mother did. Of course, I learned those things from my mom, so I figure the two ladies must have been a lot alike. Our moms never met, though. His died of breast cancer the year before I met him.

She must have been a wonderful woman. I say that for a lot of reasons. One is that I did know the hubby’s dad, and as far as I can tell, the good things that I see in my husband did not come from him. And then there’s the fact that in six years she managed to give birth to five boys ( with a miscarriage in there) and raise them to be contributing members of society. Her hubby also was a railroader who traveled. I know it wasn’t easy. Finally, it’s the hubby’s memories of her. She’s been with the Lord thirty-three years now, so he doesn’t talk about her as much as he used to, but when he does, he smiles. Always.

I feel that way about my mom. She’s been in heaven for eleven years, but every spring brings back special memories. Where I live now, I found out that wild violets are considered a weed, but when I was little, one of the sweetest memories I have is going in the woods near my house with mom to look for purple and white violets and bring home handfuls of them. Didn’t matter how many times my little fingers broke the stems off short. Mom would find a way to make a beautiful bouquet of them and displayed them proudly on the kitchen window sill. She said they made it easier for her to do the dishes.

Or there are the trips downtown. We only had one car when I was little, so Mom and I took the bus. (That was when stores were downtown, before the malls arrived.) Our spring trips to the bus stop always included Mom’s pointing out the pansies in someone’s flowerbeds, or the first crocuses, depending. In those days women, at least where we lived in Toledo, dressed up to go shopping, so the trips downtown were big occasions. Mom spent the whole bus trip pointing things out to me instead of lost in her own thoughts. And although money was tight when I was small, she would stop by a nut shop and buy a quarter pound of cashews, which we would share on our way home, savoring the salty taste of each nut,one by one.

I wonder how our mothers thought of the things that are so dear to the hubby and me. Some of the best memories I have of being a mother are of catching the blimp taking off by the airport and stopping so the kids could watch. It was pretty neat, actually, with people on the ground holding ropes and all. And the hubby had made the kids some wooden blocks. The son built mazes with them which mystified his sister. I have pictures of the two of them sitting with mazes that covered his room, big grins on their faces. I have to stop now. The tears are starting to come.

There are plenty of things for my kids to reminisce about that wouldn’t be so nice (yes, children, I do remember slamming MY fingers in the door in anger), but I hope that I have left them with things to remember that make them smile. My friend Hannah told me once that it’s easier to see what God has accomplished when you look in the rear view mirror, that you can’t tell when it’s going on, and I think that maybe being a mom is a lot like that,too. You just do what you can do, and you can’t tell if it worked until years down the line

I guess you just give your kids a variety of experiences and hope for the best. A variety of hopes and let them remember what they will.

And sprinkle it all liberally with love. Maybe the love’s what they need to remember, anyway.


1 Response to “Moms”

  1. 1 titus2woman May 16, 2007 at 3:59 pm

    This made me cry. My MIL was my very favorite woman in the entire world, and her example was just AMAZING. She passed about seven years ago, and I actually miss her MORE as the years go on. I NEED HER WISDOM! and I know she would have just the right Biblical advice. (((((HUGS))))) sandi

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

May 2007
« Apr   Jun »

%d bloggers like this: