Today, while decluttering the desk in our family room, I found a drawing I made of my mother and father for Mother's Day when I was in second grade.
At the time I drew this, my mother was 40. She had four living children; me, my sisters, ages 9 and 11, and my brother, who was 12. In the years after I was born, she lost two children very late in the pregnancies. After that, she developed thyroid cancer. I know now she often felt overwhelmed by the challenges and losses. But from my childish perspective, she was someone who went shopping while my dad went to work! Now that I am even older than she was when I drew that picture, I am able to appreciate the sacrifices she made to create a home and to raise four children.
Today is my mother's 82nd birthday. She hates being called spry, but she is. She is with my dad at their Florida home and impossible to reach on the phone because she is so busy. I called her last week on her cell phone and she couldn't talk because she was working at the Jumble Sale at her church. My multilingual mother excitedly told me how she was planning to teach English to the Haitian immigrant families at her church and how much she was enjoying a weekly Bible Study. Then she had to go because the next boxful of books for the church sale had arrived. Today I tried calling, but she was getting ready to go out to dinner with my dad!
Attached to the drawing on yellow construction paper is this penciled poem:
At the time I drew this, my mother was 40. She had four living children; me, my sisters, ages 9 and 11, and my brother, who was 12. In the years after I was born, she lost two children very late in the pregnancies. After that, she developed thyroid cancer. I know now she often felt overwhelmed by the challenges and losses. But from my childish perspective, she was someone who went shopping while my dad went to work! Now that I am even older than she was when I drew that picture, I am able to appreciate the sacrifices she made to create a home and to raise four children.
Today is my mother's 82nd birthday. She hates being called spry, but she is. She is with my dad at their Florida home and impossible to reach on the phone because she is so busy. I called her last week on her cell phone and she couldn't talk because she was working at the Jumble Sale at her church. My multilingual mother excitedly told me how she was planning to teach English to the Haitian immigrant families at her church and how much she was enjoying a weekly Bible Study. Then she had to go because the next boxful of books for the church sale had arrived. Today I tried calling, but she was getting ready to go out to dinner with my dad!
Attached to the drawing on yellow construction paper is this penciled poem:
Mother's Day
M is for Mommy like the one you have.
O is for the only one you will get.
T is for the turkey she cooks every night.
H is for her happy smile.
E is for the every little thing she can do.
R is for the ready action she has.
Put them all together
and they spell mother.
And she'll be good on
Mother's Day.
I end this tribute to my amazing mother with this picture of her from last April at a book signing. She has written a novel, a thriller, about art theft during World War II. You can find out more on her webpage.
Wow! A woman of ready action, indeed! Happy Birthday to your mom!
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