A Tribute: My Mother's Investment
This article was written at the end of August 2005 as a tribute to my mother. Little did I know that a month later my mom would be diagnosed with cancer. I'm so thankful for all of the ways my mother has been and still is an instrument used for His glory.
Ever since I can remember, my mother has been a pillar in our home. Through the calm and rough waters in life, she has been a loving support to my father as they sought to faithfully raise my three siblings and me in the ways of the Lord. She has joyfully labored alongside my father in all of life's tasks--being a wonderful helpmeet, homemaker, and mother. The perfect completion of my father who has been a gentle, loving leader in our home.
Growing up, my parents' monetary resources were limited, but they were very creative in making sure my siblings and I had a full, happy childhood. My parents instilled in us a delight in finding joy in the simple pleasures of life that money could not and cannot buy. They showed us the great wealth in cultivating a relationship with the Lord, building life-long relationships within our family, and passed on valuable life-skills which would benefit our futures as husbands and wives.
Mother was and is a beautiful example of the joys of womanhood and serving others with an unselfish heart; using her skills to make a difference in the lives of everyone around her.
It would take countless pages to relay all of the many ways my mother has been an instrument in demonstrating sacrificial love, giving of herself for her family and the other people whose lives she has touched. It is my hope to share a glimpse of her loving influence in our family--particularly in my life.
My mother always knew how to turn the simplest things into golden opportunities for making memories.
"To Arms!" my mother shouted with earnest, reaching her hand to the ceiling, as if she were raising a sword for battle. The story was captivating! My siblings and I were hanging on every word as Mother read to us from a story about William Wallace. Just when the tale was coming to its climax, with a twinkle in her eye, Mother abruptly closed the book and placed it back in its place, for the continuation of the story would have to wait until the next day. Moans could be heard around the room as my siblings and I objected that she couldn't stop quite yet. What was going to happen? Would they win the battle and return home victorious? Would William Wallace live to see another day?
Mother loved to keep us wondering what was going to take place next in the story at the end of reading time. She seemed to take great delight in stopping suddenly (even if it was in the middle of a chapter) at a very interesting point in the story.
After a little persuasion from my siblings and me, Mother would often pick the book up and begin reading again, only to leave us hanging at the end of that stopping place. Though we often found it frustrating and torturous to not know the outcome of a section in the story that day and in spite of our proclamations for her not to stop, we loved her for doing it. It, in turn, gave us a hunger for learning and reading, and built treasured memories. We couldn't wait for reading time to come!
The autumn of 1991 brought with it a terrible, wide-spread ice storm that left our home and hundreds of others without power for many days--for us it was a total of eight. It was a frigid time (one of the coldest autumns that I can remember), and it could have easily been very miserable; but, even the cold days were filled with adventure for us, because of my mother's artful ability of making the most of every situation.
We closed off the second level of our home and my mother lit the front burners on our gas stove, which kept our well-ventilated home at about 50 degrees Fahrenheit. My mother then pulled out the hide-a-bed couch and layered many blankets on top. She, my two brothers, my sister, and I all piled under them, huddling close to one another to share body heat to keep warm. By the soft glow of lantern light, my mother read to us from the Little House on the Prairie books to help the time pass by more quickly. She would read until her voice could go no further. With no warm water or electricity, and having lanterns and candles lit around the room, it made the stories come alive; for we felt almost like pioneers ourselves "roughing it" on the frontier. By the time our electricity came back on, we had nearly finished the whole series.
One of the first memories I have of my mother is her tucking us in at night. She would travel from one bed to the next, snuggling with each of us as we lay quietly. While stroking our hair or cheek, she softly sang one or two sweet lullabies or songs about Jesus before traveling to the next bed. The personal "mom time" at the end of the day was always special.
Though the days of lullabies have long since passed, I still enjoy evening time with Mother before retiring for the night. Instead of my mother singing songs, she and I like to take a stroll out under the stars (when weather permits). We talk about girls things; catch up on the day's activities; share hopes and dreams about the future, and thoughts or ideas we've been pondering. Sometimes we don't have to talk at all--just being in the presence of one another is delightful.
Through the acts of love my mother has shown, she subtly taught the importance of how the smallest things can make a huge impact in the lives of those you touch.
I am very thankful for the life-skills my mother invested in our lives. She sought to share practical things that we (my siblings and I) would be able to use to bless and minister to others.
For me (and my sister) that meant homemaking arts. With my mother by my side: I remember browning hamburger at the young age of four years old (my first introduction to cooking). I remember the miles of chain stitches I made while learning how to crochet at the age of seven. I remember making sugar cookies with frosting, and chocolate chip cookies, and caramel popcorn balls with my siblings. At ten, I remember the rainbow-colored baby doll quilt I made while using the sewing machine for the first time. My mother taught other useful skills such as home decorating and organizing, refinishing furniture, bargain shopping, house cleaning, the art of hospitality, living within your means, various forms of handiwork, and the list goes on.
Over the years, my darling mother has invested so many precious moments in enriching our lives. She never thought us a burden or a waste of her time or efforts. To her we were continually held with great value. She constantly demonstrated her love for us by giving of herself for our sake--a loving example to us of sacrificial love. Lord willing, I'll be a wife and mother in the not too distant future. I only pray that I may be blessed to be half the mother mine was and is.
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