I have snapshots of my mother stored away in the photo album of my 30-something-year-old memory.
There’s the picture of her singing resolutely “It is Well With My Soul” at a funeral- my dad’s, a 35 year-old father to four. Then there’s the picture of a gaunt face and a bald head- hers this time, as cancer once again visited our family several years later. And though disease stole breath from my father and a year from my mother’s health, she refused to let it steal her faith or her joy. And I have the photos to prove it.
I scroll through, and I can see snapshots of her sitting in the early-morning dark in prayer, her cheering from the bleachers embarrassing-loud during games I often sat the bench, and her dramatically directing summer musicals for a rag-tag group of kids.
My memory album holds images of her reading aloud C.S. Lewis {as we all cried that Aslan really died}, images of her building forts on rainy days, pictures of her from the front seat dolling out complicated clues to mystery trips.
I can see her teaching my sunday school classes, and I remember that time she literally stood with her heels on top of her marked-up Bible to tell a bunch of sixth graders that we should stand on the Word of God– no matter what.
I see her in cream as she marries again and in pink when she holds her first grandchild– mine, a girl.
I have an image of her at airport after airport, as she died innumerable small deaths– deaths to her own dreams of watching all her grandbabies grow up close, of birthday dinners and soccer games and long conversations in the flesh and over coffee on normal weekends. And I’ve watched her die them with grace and trust and a commitment to the Kingdom that outweighs everything else.
Mom, words will never express how deeply grateful I am to have such pictures of motherhood over my years as your daughter. My memory album is full, of you.
Thank you that the photos you created were happy ones that encouraged me to always, always look up.
Mom and I {My Third Birthday}
Happy Mother’s Day, friends. In honor of my own mom, I wanted to re-post this piece {with a few edits} I wrote for her in 2010. It all still rings very, very true.
Have a snapshot of your mom that you’d like to share? What was your favorite moment with her? And how are you going to celebrate her this year? Even if you aren’t going to physically be with her?
Related. Injustice of Skype | Leaving and Being Left | And Then, They Came {Video of My In-Laws Visiting Us}
Care to subscribe by email?
LauraParkerBlog.com.
Pingback: Weeds in Vases | Laura Parker