A Tribute to Mom

Mother’s Day 2012. A time to reflect on what Mom means to me. Just the word Mom means love. But it’s an active word and comes in many forms.

Winters back home in Pennsylvania were so bad that at times we had to walk on top of 4-foot drifts to get to the bus—and I remember Mom going out in the middle of the night to shovel a path down the half mile hill so we wouldn’t fall down into the deep snow. That was love in action.

When we were snowed in for several days at a time, Mom would set the huge farm table with board games such as Chinese Checkers and Scrabble, and she played with us kids non-stop. That was joy in action.

One time, when my cousin Carole and I were camping out in the front yard, we heard a terrible screaming and growling coming from the bend in the road. We ran to tell Mom, and armed with only a flashlight and a broom, she walked out into the black night because she thought it might be our cat Friendhouse, who had been missing for several days, fighting with a fox. That was care in action.

Daddy dropped a hot coal from the furnace onto his foot one New Year’s Day, and he kiddingly, but mercilessly, blamed Mom because she was at work and not home to take care of him. She took the blame and felt so bad about not being there for him. That was commitment in action.

When I was sick with a cold or the flu, Mom would pull the living room couch out and make it into a cozy bed with lots of quilts. She would wait on me all day and make hot mustard and onion plaster to lay on my chest to draw the infection out. That was restoration in action.

Mom’s love extended to the farm critters too—making sure the dogs were warm on winter nights with more hay or blankets—making them pancakes to warm their tummies. Always giving of herself for others.

Many adjectives describe Mom—beautiful, caring, sharing, thoughtful, healing, tender, soft, strong, brave, but the one that stands out the most would be selfless. Everything Mom has ever done has been with the thought of other people’s well being in mind. Her many years of gardening, canning, and preparing meals; picking all kinds of wild fruit and making jams, jellies and preserves. Never letting spur-of –the-moment visitors leave without something to eat or giving up her bedroom for guests was all to serve others and make them comfortable.

 Mom, at ninety-one, gets frustrated and even angry that her body will not do what she wants it to at the speed she wants it to. But her    heart is just as loving and caring as ever. I pray that her grandchildren, great grandchildren and the many generations to come, grow to have even an ounce of her loving heart. God has truly blessed me with a Mom such as mine.