My entire life, as long as I can remember, I have been told, “You look just like your mother.” Most recently, about 15 of my classmates met at the homecoming game of our alma mater, and again and again they remarked how I resembled my mom. My mom was one of our school teachers. For some, she was their 1st grade teacher, but for all of us, she was our junior high English teacher. I cannot recall actively participating in junior high English, but I know my grammar rules! And, when in doubt, I know just who to call. 😉
My mom’s penmanship looks sharp, neat, and highly legible. I suppose I inherited more than simply my mom’s appearance, in that I too, receive compliments on my penmanship. As I sit here today and compose my weekly blog, I’m reminded of my mother’s great talent for writing, as well. She’s penned a multitude of poems (we really need to get her published). Many of her writings carry on her legacy of an involved, loving school teacher. Each November our hometown, Edgewood, Texas, hosts it’s annual Heritage Festival. Children from various grade levels perform songs, orations, and dance. This year as my sister’s second grade class prepared to dance the Cotton Eyed Joe around the gazebo, we were reminded of our own heritage. The children began with the recitation written by my mom well over 20 years before. Earlier in the day you could hear a familiar tune around the flagpole as children sang the history of Edgewood, Texas to the theme music from The Beverly Hillbillies. The lyrics written by my mom.
My mom is not only beautiful and talented, but she is giving. She thinks of others, and her hospitality reaches beyond her doors. Time and again my mom prepares food for her friends and neighbors in need. She is a thoughtful, reliable, and faithful friend.
Two of the best weeks of my entire life are the weeks after my two children were born. Upon returning home from the hospital with my newborn baby, Mom was there. Even though I was a new mom, for a week I enjoyed the blessings of being a child again. My mom cooked, cleaned, did laundry, and let me sleep as an exhausted young mom had need. Even if I try to recreate a meal from that time, it never tastes the same because those meals contained a special ingredient that I cannot replicate for myself: unconditional mother’s love.
Perhaps, I also inherited a couple of Mom’s annoying habits. For instance, being a backseat driver, worrying over time schedules, and a desire for everything to go according to plan (Admittedly, the plans are often in my head & unknown to others, but there’s always disappointment when a plan doesn’t come together). But, even in that, I’m thankful because I know I can trust my mom to be true to her word, and I believe others can trust me, too.
During this week of Thanksgiving, I’m grateful and blessed for my entire family. My family loves the Lord, and even though we are not together often enough, our love for each other out reaches any divide. This Thanksgiving week just happens to be my mom’s birthday week, as well. Thank you, Mama, for believing in me, supporting me, and giving me your genes. I love you.
Her children arise up, and call her blessed; her husband also, and he praises her. Many daughters have done virtuously, but thou excellest them all. Favour is deceitful, and beauty is vain; but a woman that fears the Lord, she shall be praised.