Mother's Day

My mother was a wonderful woman. She died in March of 1983, and I still miss her. I was blessed to have her in my life. She didn't have a college education, in fact, she never graduated from high school. She had a hard life living with an alcoholic dad who moved their family from place to place looking for work. Work consisted of all the family working in the fields. Since she was the second of five children and the only girl, she had the duties of working the fields, working in the home and helping with the other children. Her mother died when she was in her early twenties, and when she and my daddy got married, they took two of her younger brothers to live with them. By that time, her oldest brother was gone from the home and the other brother stayed with his dad.

Taking care of her brothers, raising three boys and me (the baby) was not easy, but easier than she had ever had before. She had a calm spirit and could handle crises easily. Well, there was the time I fell and hit my forehead on the edge of the concrete porch and split it open. I guess yelling, "Her brains are falling out!" probably wasn't the calmest thing she could have said. When they took me to the doctor, I ask him if I still had my brains. He was horrified and asked why I thought that. After the story was told, he proceeded to tell my mother that wasn't exactly what she should have said. (I said it much nicer than he did.) Now, I know my brains didn't fall out, but my brothers have used that against me my whole life.

My mother was always good to all her neighbors. Except maybe for the time she knocked our next-door neighbor out the back door. It wasn't a case of self-defense, it was a case of grandchild-defense. Don't mess with a woman's children or grandchildren. The neighbor came to complain how my nephew was running through her yard. Actually, all the grandkids were there that day, and they were playing with the lady's four children. But when she came to talk to my mother, she didn't mention the fact that ALL the kids had been running back and forth between houses.

Anyway, there were three steps up to our back door which led into the kitchen. The neighbor was standing in the door ranting. Mama told her to shut up and go home and gave her a big push. The woman lost her balance and fell out the back door. She immediately went home and told her husband who came over laughing so hard he could hardly talk and ask Mama if she was okay. When the news of that incident went through the neighborhood, my mother was the Heroine of 84th Street. I think everyone had had trouble with that neighbor at one time or another.

But my mother never mentioned it again. The people didn't live there much longer, but Mama never treated her any differently after that than she did before. As far as she was concerned, it was over.

She had heart trouble for many years and died of a massive heart attack. Daddy, two of my brothers, her baby brother, and I were at her bedside when she died. She was able to talk to all of us up until just a couple of hours before she died. She told us she had said her prayers and was ready to meet Jesus, and I know that's exactly what happened. My youngest brother looked up when she died, because he heard angel wings. I will never forget the flat line on the heart monitor screen and the sound it made.

Only one small lady in the world. No one famous or well-known. There was no TV coverage. Just a small obituary in the local newspaper along with the births, divorces, etc. Life went on. Time never skipped a second. But my world changed forever.

I missed her immensely at first. But as time went on, it got easier and easier. I missed her at the high school graduation of two of my daughters. (One had already graduated.) I missed her at all their college graduations. I missed her at all their weddings, but I missed her most when my grandchildren were born. I wanted so badly for her to be able to be there to share those experiences with me. I wanted to pick up the phone to tell her about every one of them and how they were growing and what they were doing. She would have loved it. But I couldn't.

Sometimes I think I was cheated. But I wasn't really. There are millions of women in this world who would give anything to have had the experiences with the mother I had. She was truly a woman of God; quiet-spoken, mischievous (she loved to tease my husband), a devoted wife and mother, and a good friend.

I believe there are some things people in heaven know about us here on earth. I believe she was at my daughter's graduations. I believe she was at their weddings. I believe she sees my grandchildren. I believe she is proud of my family. But most of all I believe when I get to heaven, after Jesus gives me a big hug and welcomes me home, He is going to take me to see my mama and daddy. It will be a glorious reunion with my Savior and my family. Some days I think I can't wait.

Happy Mother's Day, Mama. I'll see you later.