Incidentals

So here we are again. It has been so long since we shared this space together. So much has changed. There are so many things I should have told you, but the words have slipped through my fingers. 

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I, who have never been a mother, have been told to mother four children. However, I am supposed to always keep in mind that I am not their mother. Being without a mother myself, I am often at a loss when I find myself needing motherly advice about mothering. I need to know how to keep from smothering. 

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I don’t hear God, but I know He is there. This could be a comfortable, companionable silence or it could be something else…

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My new favorite new phrase is "fractured intentions" (from Still by Lauren Winner). What is your favorite new thing?

Everybody's Happy

My precious Mama was a gentle soul. She was the quiet complement to my Dad's gregariousness. She rarely ever said a harsh word, even when we deserved it. She loved Jesus, read her Bible regularly, and prayed for her family and many others. She loved people by cooking for them. She also shared her talents by sewing, quilting, and painting for us. She nursed us when we were sick and when we were just whiny. She was good at adjusting to most any situation just to make it easier on those around her. She still wrote out and mailed letters to loved ones, because she liked communicating that way and because she knew how special it made people feel when they got a piece of mail that was not a bill. 

Something else that Mama was good at was being my Mama. She understood my strengths and weaknesses. She appreciated my quirks. She knew to just smile and nod when I said, "Guess what, Mama?". She did not begrudge me the emotional fragility that came with my genetic personality. She never gave up on me even though I fell on my face quite often. She knew that even as an adult, I still was thrilled when she made me a heart-shaped bologna sandwich for Valentine's Day. She knew how to get rollers (hot or wet) to stay in my wavy-only-in-places hair. She welcomed my friends into our home with a hug even if she was meeting them for the first time. She forgave me over and over and over again for transgressions great and small. She treated my husband as her own son and loved on his kids and grandkids whenever she had the chance. She rocked my baby puppies to sleep. She answered my phone calls in the middle of the night when I was crying so hard that I could not breathe and was not able to tell her what was wrong. She constantly went without so that I could have what I needed and what I wanted. She paid for me to have my hair dyed purple, then pink, and then burgundy. She laughed at my stupid jokes. She went with me to movies that she did not enjoy just so she could spend time with me. She loved being my Mama.