My Mom

She married my dad in the summer of 1955.   She made a lovely June bride and he was very proud of her.  My parents didn't really have a honeymoon as there wasn't a lot of time or money for such things, but in an effort to enjoy the comforts of the time and mark their beginning together as special, my dad purchased air plane tickets to make the journey from Portland to their new home in North Idaho (probably Spokane airport).   My dad's overture backfired and my mom was miserably air sick the whole way.   He took her swimming in Lake Couer d Alene when they arrived and she got Pneumonia.  Poor Dad.  But this isn't about my dad.   My mom was happy to be with my dad and eager to please her new husband.  She was willing to follow where he led no matter the outcome.  And this less-than-ideal beginning was a pretty good gauge of how things would generally go.

My parents loved serving the Lord together and were committed to going where He led and doing whatever needed doing in order to minister.   My dad chose well his wife of fifty years.  I'm not sure too many women would have been willing to do what she did.   There was very little money and sometimes almost none.  They church planted a couple of times--from scratch--no big mega church to sweep in with support and bands and cool brochures.  The other ministries were in rural areas--tiny churches.  My dad often had to be bi-vocational to pay the bills.  My mom was committed to be at home with her children and readily available to help Dad in whatever way needed.  She canned hundreds of jars of..everything, every summer.  She had a garden, she sewed clothes, she taught Sunday School, led VBS, had youth group meetings in her home, led Bible studies, counseled women, practiced hospitality to strangers, held my dad's head (yes, you read that right.  He would pass out with stomach troubles and nearly have a seizure.) made jam and reared 4 children who love the Lord.

My mom lived in houses not of her choosing.  There were cramped church parsonages or houses that the church might secure that would "work just fine".  There was a little house on a muddy dairy farm and the house on the river, there was even a time when she had to live IN the church and then the house I arrived at--across from the church.  She put up with people showing up at all hours wherever she lived, often endured unfair criticism, and graciously and gratefully accepted all manner of food gifts (she was given fish bones on more than one occasion--can you imagine??)

Despite the lack of resources, my mom always managed to put a beautiful meal on the table.  She was a yummy cook and practically famous for her fried chicken, chicken and dumplings, potato salad, and homemade rolls.  Give her a few potatoes, some onion, and some bacon grease and she'd make the tastiest dish on the planet.   I have often thought that a true cook is not someone who uses all the beautiful and rare ingredients to make a particular dish, but rather one who can find the few things in her cupboard or garden and make something delicious with what is available.  This was my mom.

She isn't ALL sugar and spice though.  You wouldn't DARE back talk her.  If so, you'd end up regretting it--usually with the flavor of soap residue lingering in your mouth. She has been known to tell an armed stranger  to put his gun away.  And then there was the time she confronted a male in the women's restroom of the campground. (You don't mess with my mom.)  She was never shy about using paint paddles or wooden spoons or an old belt to instruct either.  (Not even on me, despite what my brothers or sister may tell you.)  She prayed over JW's--even blocked the door so she could finish the prayer.  She was my dad's biggest fan and also his toughest critic.  Check-writing/bill paying day wasn't exactly the most pleasant day of the month either--so she was very human.  And oh goodness, if one of my siblings decides to show her this post....

And with all her facets of life, the first thing you would notice in her home in the morning, was the smell of coffee and her curled in her chair with her Bible opened in front of her.  She tried to please the Lord in all respects and instructed us that this was the most important thing.  Her life verse was Romans 12:1  "I appeal to you therefore, brothers,by the mercies of God, to present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, which is your spiritual worship."

While her life has not been story book perfect and maybe less than ideal, she made it happy and secure for us.  And she was faithful--to my dad and to the Lord.  She is still there as an encourager, supporter and gift-giver to her family.  While much of what once defined her daily life is beyond her capabilities now, her work endures.  She showed us that the rewards are not of this world.  That God provides.  That her family was special.  That marriage was sacred.  That Scripture was powerful. That prayers are answered.  That books should be read. That music is necessary.  That to be friendly is better than to be popular.  That underwear really is a Christmas gift.  That jello is a food group.  That sharing is joyful.  That soap tastes bad. That furniture doesn't have to be the latest thing (she had the same couch for 30 years).  That beauty is in relationships.  That you eat what is put before you.  That you really don't need a full meal on Sunday nights.  That you dust where you think no one will look.  That sacrifice can be in the very practical details.  That your home is where your family is.  That God is good.  That He doesn't forget your labor of love and work of service.

And neither will I.   Happy 80th Birthday to my Mom on a life well-lived.