mom

This is a letter to my mom.  The rest of you are just along for the ride on this one.

Dear Mom,
Here are some of the things I remember from my childhood, about you.

I remember sitting on the kitchen counter watching you cook.  I remember that you made yummy food- pot roast and macaroni soup and chili and tuna noodle casserole and bologna sandwiches with Miracle Whip.  I remember when I was old enough to leave home, getting some of those recipes from you, because although I knew you didn't enjoy cooking, it didn't mean that your food wasn't delicious.  On the contrary, your food represents the best of home and comfort to me. (Except the bologna sandwiches.)

I remember that when you scrubbed the kitchen floor, you let us make a fort with the chairs in the other room. I remember that (as a kindergartener?) I was out shopping with you and I realllly wanted that fancy dress, the white frilly one, it somehow mysteriously ended up on my bed that week as a present "from Dad." I also remember you cleaning up after me when I was sick, and stroking my hair, and making me chicken soup.

You led my Brownie troupe. You led my Odyssey of the Mind group. You baked lemon cupcakes for me to take to school for my birthday.  You swam with us at the lake.  You bought me the most outrageously expensive prom dress, because you wanted to give me everything.  (And it was the only one we found that we liked!  Or were we just too tired to shop anymore?!) You worked, and gave all that money for me to go to college. You gave me Strawberry Shortcake's house, an electric keyboard, a sapphire ring, hugs, love, and when I needed it- spankings. (Although not too often on that last one.)


You drove me to piano, school, friends' houses, and church.  You drove me to Perkins when I was little to get me a muffin and spend special time with me once while Jason was at preschool.  You rode with me while I was a new driver, and only clutched at the door when I turned, sped up, or slowed down. ;)

I knew that you loved me even when I pulled away.  When I chose different hobbies, friends, churches,   homes, destinies.  When I was callous, sarcastic, selfish and self-absorbed- I never doubted that even when you didn't like me, you loved me.  And because of that, being with you will always feel like being home.

I almost lost you.  There was a time when I was 11 when you weren't there to put together my peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and drive me around and I didn't know if you would remember me or even keep breathing. It was scary to see you in the hospital with your head shaved and the wires and tubes making you look so fragile.  That season rarely comes to mind, and seems strange to think of now.  But I know it is a part of our story that intensifies how grateful I am to you, and for you.

I learned so much from you about love that I am still struggling to put into practice.  Things I learned so young they are subconscious, and things I learned this year.  About sacrifice and loss and faithfulness.
You are a hero to me.  And a friend.
You are my mom.
And I love you.

All the numbers in the whole wide world.

Becky