Mother’s Day. A day I remember as a child cutting and gluing together that precious construction paper card to surprise my mom with in the morning. A day were memories flood back of all the dinners out after church, the celebration of sacrifice made for my brother and I, and overall the joy of having a loving, caring, supportive mother. There were even some years where Mother’s Day would fall on her birthday. Double duty for making those construction paper cards.
This will be my second Mother’s Day without my mom. It of course brings back countless memories and moments we shared together. Even the ones that were not so glamorous.
She would always tell stories about how stubborn I was as a child [who says I’ve changed?]. There was one particular story that she would always tell about her and I getting into a power struggle in the aisles of K-Mart over some pink Barbie shoes. The story has it that she won by dragging me out of the store kicking and screaming. Me? Never.
Throughout my childhood and into high school, I would always get so embarrassed when she would talk to the store clerk, or the gas station attendant for 10 minutes about their lives. Mind you, she didn’t know these people. I remember when we went shopping for decorations for my wedding, she gave the women at Hobby Lobby the 15 minute run down of the day. She never had a lack of words. Ever.
One of the things I cherish the most about my mother was her ability to make life events special. You better believe when holidays, birthdays, graduations, and bridal showers came around, everyone knew and it was going to be a memorable celebration. I had countless purple and pig themed birthday parties, Christmas Eve and Christmas morning were set with traditions, Easter baskets were always hidden on Easter morning, there was a handmade purple clown costume waiting for me for the school Halloween parade. You get the picture. She went out of her way to make sure we were celebrated and that memories and traditions were created.
She raised us in the faith. Summer after summer we would attend Simpson Park Family Camp for a week. These grounds were where I started my faith journey. Where she started her faith journey. Where my grandfather received his call to ministry. Where my grandmother played as a child. Where Chris and I got married. I am forever thankful for her relentless effort to raise us in the church and allowing us to grow to know the Lord.
I have a lot of my mom in me. I’m passionate about helping people like she was. I am stubborn like she was. I’m not afraid to strike up a conversation with a complete stranger. Whenever I am fortunate enough to be called “mom” my prayer is that I can raise a family in similar manner she did. Supporting my children through their trials and triumphs, celebrating them for who they are, sacrificing my own needs for theirs and learning from her mistakes.
As I am missing my mom this Mother’s day, I am jealous of her too as she is basking in the glory of our Heavenly Father. Hug your mom today and make sure you tell her how much you love her.