My mother was born in Spirit Lake, Idaho on July 4, 1911. Her strong, no-nonsense personality intimidated some but those close to her knew she had a great sense of humor and a heart of gold. Although her time in history was not during America’s colonial period or its expansion westward, my mom was a pioneer woman. Her ability to make do and endure hardship was amazing!
Starting days by firing up a small stove in her kitchen with wood she often split herself, she worked from early morning to night, washing clothes in an old wringer washing machine; planting, maintaining and harvesting a huge garden; canning and freezing produce; sewing and mending clothes for her seven children; and making quilts. Amidst her busy schedule, she frequently found time and energy to host guests for Sunday dinner. Almost every weekend, when their children were in college, my parents welcomed numerous students into our home. Typically, the crew would arrive on Friday night and my mom would clean, cook and entertain the group until they left Sunday evening. I am still trying to figure out how my parents were able to finance hosting so many people on their meager income.
Over the course of her life, my mom influenced many to become followers of Jesus Christ and, through her letter writing and prayers, encouraged others along the journey. Her children were dependent on her prayers. When I found myself in difficulty, I often prayed that God would impress my mom to pray for me. I knew she had a connection with God, and He answered her prayers.
Although she may have done so, I do not remember my mother actually saying the words, “I love you.” But that has never mattered to me, because everything she did and said shouted that fact. There was no doubt! My mother loved me. I am a strong proponent of parents telling their children that they love them but, in analyzing my relationship with my mother, I am reminded that love is more than a noun—it is a verb.
I love you, Mom. You were a real firecracker!
Copyright © 2010
Starting days by firing up a small stove in her kitchen with wood she often split herself, she worked from early morning to night, washing clothes in an old wringer washing machine; planting, maintaining and harvesting a huge garden; canning and freezing produce; sewing and mending clothes for her seven children; and making quilts. Amidst her busy schedule, she frequently found time and energy to host guests for Sunday dinner. Almost every weekend, when their children were in college, my parents welcomed numerous students into our home. Typically, the crew would arrive on Friday night and my mom would clean, cook and entertain the group until they left Sunday evening. I am still trying to figure out how my parents were able to finance hosting so many people on their meager income.
Over the course of her life, my mom influenced many to become followers of Jesus Christ and, through her letter writing and prayers, encouraged others along the journey. Her children were dependent on her prayers. When I found myself in difficulty, I often prayed that God would impress my mom to pray for me. I knew she had a connection with God, and He answered her prayers.
Although she may have done so, I do not remember my mother actually saying the words, “I love you.” But that has never mattered to me, because everything she did and said shouted that fact. There was no doubt! My mother loved me. I am a strong proponent of parents telling their children that they love them but, in analyzing my relationship with my mother, I am reminded that love is more than a noun—it is a verb.
I love you, Mom. You were a real firecracker!
Copyright © 2010
