It is difficult to understand anybody without visiting their home. Houses reveal character.
Gilbert Highet 1906-1978
The dogwoods in full bloom spoke that spring had arrived. I could smell the Honeysuckle on the back fence up near the woods. Beautiful white buds filled the vine. Pinching off the end and pulling a single stem from the middle gave my kids their first taste of spring. There’s nothing like sharing with the hummingbirds.
I headed to town with the family on a beautiful evening, windows down with the spring breeze blowing past. “What’s that sound?” “I don’t know,” I told Chuck, “Maybe just a bump in the road.” Sitting in the curve on a backroad, we waited patiently while our neighbors brought us some gas. Chuck gave me a lecture on why we were sitting there and the importance of paying attention to the mileage. In my wit, I retorted, “Well, at least we know exactly how many miles it takes to run out of gas.” Chuck was not smiling. You could feel the tension building.
Losing focus can happen without notice. Knee-deep in diapers, whining, lost slime found in the carpet, and cleaning toothpaste off the hardwoods can make teaching long division a bit of a challenge. A person might forget how much gas is in the tank.
Charlotte follows close on my heels. No matter the chore, she is ready at hand with her cleaning supplies alongside mine. Running on empty, still, everyone was counting on me to get them where they needed to be. I snapped, “Charlotte, you are not wearing that to the library. It’s dirty.” “Mom, it’s fine. They have dirt there.” I shrugged my shoulders and concurred.
Leaving the library with a few pleasant reads, Charlotte said from the back seat, “I had such a nice time.” A ray of bubbly sunshine with a splash of sass, she is just what she is.
NOW AVAILABLE!
Order on Amazon, or Personally (signed and shipped)
Over the past few weeks, I have watched as mothers seem to be running on empty, yet the takeaway I noticed was that they kept going. I caught snippets of conversations that hinted at dances they chaperoned, games they attended and cheered from the stands, birthday parties they tirelessly hosted, rooms they helped clean and organize, arguments they halted, and words of encouragement they gave.
The faces of the kids who receive such tender love and care do not know about the fumes their mother is running on. The recipient only knows of the steady, peaceful way they are carried through life. They can’t understand the comforts and protection they have. They don’t even know they need it.
God gives you teenagers to help you let go; He gives you children so you can hang on.
Waking up for Mother’s Day was foggy. Tyson had kept us up all night. I heard the door open. Still on crutches from a recent surgery to the knee, Eva stood there. Daddy was carrying a tray of what appeared to be breakfast she had made. It was a torn piece of toast and tea that was partly sweetened. Eva had been up early to try to beat me up (that’s hard to do). She said, “I’m sorry for the toast. I burnt the first two and tore the last one. I bet I didn’t get the tea right either.” I smiled as I took a bite of the toast and a sip of the tea, “This is the best breakfast I have ever tasted,” I celebrated! Charlotte stood proudly beside Eva and said, “Happy Valentine’s Day“!
There is an unwritten law that Mother knows best, but children cannot receive this intel until they are twenty-five or older (wink). My mother taught me how to know what’s best for my home and children. She taught me to enjoy life and the work involved, to be busy, without idle hands. My mother knows how to manage enjoyment and work and how to weave them together. There was a time I didn’t realize she knew better than me. Now, on the other side of twenty-five, I can see that she always had my best interest at heart. She still does; from where to plant my blackberry vines to ideas for a smoother day, her heart is for me.
In the middle of traffic, I slammed on the brakes. Tyson was choking. Thankful the light had just turned red. Not caring about the cars still trying to stop, I jumped out. In my most panicked yet calm swiftness, I jerked him out of the car seat and was beating and scooping as fast as I could. I held him up and looked into his eyes. I wanted to know he was ok; traffic could wait. I got him strapped in and waved at the truck behind me. I couldn’t see his face, but I imagine he had understanding.
Once we were moving, Eva stared at me. Charlotte accused me. “I told you not to give him the goldfish, Mom! She was right, but I didn’t want to hear that. Eva, still bewildered, said, “How did you know?” My legs shook as I replied, “Because a mother just knows. I could hear it before I saw it.” “But how did you get him out so fast? Weren’t you scared of all the cars?” “No,” I pronounced. “The only fear I had was Tyson, and God took care of that.” She looked at me as if I was rock steady. She had no idea I was sweating profusely, my legs felt like Jello, and the steering wheel kept my hands from falling off. To her and Charlotte, Mother knew best, as it should be.
Not long ago, a man stopped by my booth. He was waiting in line for his food, and while waiting, he perused my book table. After reading the back, he looked up and said, “We had three minivans while raising our kids. We put three-four hundred thousand miles on them each. I never attended many events like this; we were too busy hauling kids to sporting events, activities, church, and friends’ sleepovers; we wanted to be where they were. They are all grown now, and I have time to visit events like this. The best part is, my kids like to come with me.” I asked him, “Was it for the better or worse.” Without hesitation, he stated, “I had the time of my life.” It wasn’t long before his wife and a few grown kids met with him. I leaned over and spoke to the daughter closest to me, “A healthy family radiates. Yours is shining bright; cherish it.” They left with my books in hand and wished my family well on our three-hundred-thousand-mile journey we had already begun.
If you want to change the world, go home and love your family
Mother Theresa
Some days, I feel like I am running on empty, but I know an inner strength that never fails me. We can lift our eyes unto the hills from whence cometh our help (Psalms 121:1).
My front yard is full of sweet, cheerful sounds. Tyson giggles from his tree swing while Charlotte picks handfuls of wildflowers for my vases. The creek meanders by, and the birds visit from branch to branch. Eva is nearby, with Samson resting beside her.
As mothers, we may not always make the right decisions or feel like the champion our kids see, but that’s when Jesus hides me behind the cross and gently reminds me that He knows best.
…The Lord will gently lead those who are with young. Isaiah 40:11
