When I think of my mother, I think of homemade strawberry jam. Picking peas early summer mornings…shoes muddy and wet from the morning dew hanging on the pea laden plants. I think of our big tomato patch that yielded baskets of tomatoes which we canned into quarts of pizza sauce and tomato soup. I think of homemade chocolate cake with peanut butter icing. And cooked breakfast…every morning….eggs and toast around the table. I think of the trips to the greenhouse in early spring and the big begonia flowers that lined our front walk. And the planters on the patio overflowing with flowers. I think of her love for the warm sunshine and her tanned face with laugh lines. I think of her eyes…they were kind….shined warmth and wisdom. I remember her soft, strong hands that were not afraid of hard work. I remember how she loved driving the farm tractor…helping to bale hay. Her Bible was thick with papers and cards tucked into it’s pages…lined with handwritten notes and underlined verses. I think of fresh blooms on the kitchen table, baskets of peaches from the local orchard, and a front porch swept clean. Always on the go…running errands, picking up groceries, taking the kids here and there. As I grew older, I think of how she always ‘got me’. When the world felt rocky and scary, she was a solid foundation I could always come back to. I think of when I had my first baby and thought my life would never be normal again. She loved my baby as much as she loved us…and I remember how beautiful that felt to me. He was the only grandchild she ever held in her arms. I think of how she beamed with pride at him. I think of how she found great joy in her family….seeing us grew up, travel, see the world, and experience things she never did. She never told us what our lives should look like…instead…she gave us the freedom to see and feel for ourselves and simply provided a safe place for us to come back to. And we always did…because she somehow made us feel grounded and settled. When I think of my mother, I think of wisdom, kindness, generosity, determination, and vibrancy. There was a freedom within her soul that made her want to run with the wind and seek adventure. A sense of not being willing to simple settle. Instead she sought after truth that resonated with her heart. She was strong but not in a forceful way. More in a way of simply being and not willing to allow others to tell her what life should look like. When she was sick and could not get off her bed, I remember her saying….when I am better I am going to dance like a newborn fawn. And I am convinced…..she would have.

My mother went onto heaven eight years ago at the young age of only forty-nine. It was a spring day…right before mother’s day when we learned she was not well. I remember like it was yesterday. Our family sat in a circle in the hospital room and the doctor spoke the dreaded word. My stomach dropped though the floor. Five months later, we lost her. I remember going for a walk early the next morning, sobbing…shaking my fist at God…asking how dare He take our mother. I am the oldest of eight children. My youngest brother was only seven at the time. Seven. Yes, I wish I could stop by home today and show her my four babies. Bring her some flowers. See her warm smile. Tell her about life as I know it today. But even more, today I am grateful. Grateful for the battles she fought for me. The foundation she laid for me to stand on. The values she taught me. The fears she looked in the face that I don’t have to because she already did. By living life with her heart, she instilled who she was in me. She gave me an incredibly rich inheritance. Today I am thankful God gave such beautiful woman to me as my mother.

Me….first day of first grade. All dressed up. My strawberry shortcake book bag, made by her with love. And yes, that dress? Homemade. And the begonia lined walk next to the front porch with it’s wind chimes. My mother’s touch. Everywhere. :-)

Here is to all mothers and mothers at heart….what a powerful beautiful role we have been given. Xo