|There are a million impressions left upon me by my mother. As a child I was drawn to her beauty.|
To have a mom like my mom means that you are wealthy beyond measure for the duration of your lifetime.
As a child, I was drawn to her soft voice, to her dark, wavy hair, to her soft hugs and her laughter. She is beautiful from the shining light within her soul, to the outer shell of her living being. My mom is youthful in appearance and fun loving. She enjoys life. She takes time to listen to everyone, especially those who are experiencing grief or suffering. Instead of seeking the corporate ladder, she left a secure job at GM to stay home to care for her three children. Since then, most of her working life was devoted to helping people spiritually recover their emotional wellness. She worked on the staff at a Hospice care center for many years. Her work within the church has spanned decades. Even though the kind of work she does is often heartbreaking and filled with sadness, she never complains about her calling to uplift and support people during the difficult parts of life.
She is the kind of person you feel safe with.
She loves her children and cared for us with selfless devotion and kindness. She read to us every day. She hosted birthday parties for us, all the time! She believed that imaginary play was essential to the health and development of every child. I love my Mom.
|My mom, age two. She's holding a baby doll that I remember playing with when I was little. It had a head of soft curly hair and a rubber body with arms and legs that were movable. |
|Here's my mom in her teen years. I'm not sure if this was her senior or junior picture.|
|When I was 18 months old, my mom took me to visit my grandparents, who had retired in Florida. Mom said that I carried a picture of my dad every single day.|
|Her soft, dark, wavy hair was one of my earliest memories.|
|Back at home, in Michigan, she created the perfect snowman. Her artistic talents extended to everything in our home and the meals we enjoyed.|
|Here I am enjoying my second birthday cake. How brave to allow a two year old to touch and explore the work of her heart! I remember those clowns and the balloons. I remember the scent of the sweet buttercream frosting.|
|I felt loved and special. Even on the ordinary days when it wasn't my birthday.|
|My brothers and I were excited to go back to school in the fall, but it was also a little sad. We loved being at home.|
Please stop by to see parts two and three of my series of posts on Mother's Day. I have photographs of Emily and Elliot to share!