I Want to Be Like You

         In June 1976 I wrote an article for Faith for the Family magazine entitled, “Dear Mom, Happy Birthday.” The piece recognized many of the things that I appreciated about my mother and some of them that I didn’t appreciate until the passage of time cleared away the fog. The article ended this way: “Today, on your birthday, I want you to know that I want to be like you.”

            Those words were written thirty-seven years ago, and as I thought about my mother and recognizing her on Mother’s Day, I realized my ambition hasn’t changed. There is so much about my feisty, little mother that I appreciate.

            Mom was the younger of two children, her older sibling a brother. Our family wasn’t very much like hers. Mom is the mother of six--three girls, three boys. I think we were a handful or two for her, but she seemed to take us in stride. She cooked for her small army of hungry children, learning about nutrition before it ever became popular, and served up impressive meals with an eye on her budget.

            She canned, froze, dried fruits and veggies for the winter. Whenever we complained about all the work we did to help, she’d say, “It’ll taste good when the snow flies!” Yes, I’ll have to admit it. Mulberry pie was good in January.

            It’s a wonder that my mother’s sewing machine didn’t wear out. She made my sisters and me dresses, skirts, blouses, pajamas, and robes. My brothers got their share, too. I remember Mom remaking a larger coat into the perfect smaller size for my youngest brother.

   

Mom

         

           The faith of Mom’s family may have been rather nominal, but hers wasn’t and isn’t. Late for starting off on the walk to school? Too bad. We still had to stand at the back door and work on the Bible passage we kids were all learning and listen while Mom prayed over us. Psalm 46:1-3 and Jude 24-25 are still verses I remember from morning memory lessons.

            Those are some of my favorite memories of my mother from years ago. But there’s more, so much more that my mother has contributed to my life since then. What a great support she’s been through the bumpy times in my marriage (and we all have those). She would occasionally say that she didn’t believe in divorce. Murder, yes. Divorce no! That still makes me smile as I think of her saying it.

            She and Dad would get into it, but I know she misses him deeply. She buried the love of her life five long years ago and still lives in the house they shared since 1951. And the house? My resilient mother has made decisions about roofing, siding, and insulating, replacing windows, and improving her porch. I’m amazed at how much she’s done, especially considering how hard it is for her to make decisions.

            She just doesn’t do things for herself. Mom is still making quilts for others. I noticed the last time I was there that the sewing room is less roomy—Mom’s collecting fabric again! And if it’s not that, the dining room table is littered with cards that she’s sending to those who mourn a loss, celebrate a birthday, or need encouragement. Some of those cards and even packages of cheer found their way to my house to lift me up.

            All these years my mother has been there for me, giving me an example of love, service, and faithfulness to family, friends, and her Lord. Even now she’s suffering with shingles, but she keeps going, loving, encouraging, listening, praying, expressing interest in others, and believing God will care for her and those she loves.

            I have a wonderful legacy from my mother. So, thirty-seven years later I’d like to say it again: I’d like to be like my mother.