As I look back down the road that brought me here to where I have lived for the last 40 years, there is one person I see that quietly shaped me into the woman I am today. My momma. She was the glue that held our family together. She was a very proud woman. I only remember her holding me a few times, but those were times when I needed held or I would have surely shattered. Once was when the baby calf died and the other was when I lost my brother, her only son. I am sure that hug was what both of us needed at the time.
My first memories of my life centered around the Stroh place. Those were the good days. Those were the times when dad worked and took care of us. Momma belonged to "club" and attended once a month. She dressed in her "good dress" and wore a hat. Josephine and Jake were old enough to stay home but I went with her. I had to set on the floor beside her chair and be quiet because children were to be seen and not heard and I seemed to be the only kid there. The women discussed recipes and sewing and stuff like that which any 4 year old kid would not understand. Never anything personal. God forbid!
I do not know what my dad did for a living, but I am pretty sure it was shady because I have snippets of memory of a big 3 story house across the river and my dad went inside and left me in the wagon. I was terrified of that big horse and some times it looked at me and snorted, showing his big yellow teeth, which added to my fear. Then some time after that we loaded all our "stuff" on a hay rack and moved down the road to the other side of town to the Ailmore place. It was at that time that Dad quit whatever he was doing and mother started cleaning houses for the "ladies" in town. By this time I was in first grade. Then, whoosh! we moved again.
This time we were buying the house on the other side of town. Dad was share cropping with a man named John Britain. Momma took business classes at Salt City Business College and then started working as a secretary. Dad started running the Domino/Pool Hall up on main street in Nickerson. In my Junior year we moved to Hutchinson and it was downhill from there.
The point of this is that through my life, my mother has been the one constant in my life. She was always there. She was never the "touchy feally" mother in the story books, but she was always the backbone of the family. She made sure the food was on the table. She made sure we had clothes on our backs. She was the one that inisisted we go to Sunday School and then sit quietly in church. My first communion was at her knee. My first poem was published in some kids magazine and she bought it and kept it for years.
When I married my first husband and went to her with my first black eye, she explained that "this is a man's right and you need to try harder." That was the only time she tried to guide me through my "wifely duties." My method of dealing with my children when a husband hit them was much different from my mother. "Divorce the a##hole!"
But I digress. This is about my mother and the examples she set for me. From her I learned a deep and abiding love for my saviour. Jesus Christ is never far from my thoughts and I do not make a decision without first running it by him and then thinking "What would momma think about this?" Now granted, I do not always do what I know either one of them would recommend and I usually regret my decision. Good Lord made the mistake of giving us "free will". That means he lets us make our own decisions. In those instances, I usually end up regretting my actions which brings into play the next lesson, "live and learn."
So here I set in the sunset of my life, thinking about momma. I wonder what my life would have been had I actually listened to her? She was a wise woman. Compassion for other people and for the citizens of the world was paramount in her life. I knew my mother loved me as surely as I know the sun will come up tomorrow. My mother was wise and kind and when I would tell her that she say that I was prejudiced. When I told her she was the best mother in the world she said other kids thought that about their mothers.
But I do know this, I did have the best mother in the world. She may not have been the best mother for other kids, but she was best for me. God put me right where he wanted me to be to learn the lessons I needed. Some day I will get it right and be right up there in heaven with my sweet Jesus and my momma! I may see a lot of people I know, or I may not see any. It will all be revealed when the time is right.
But until that day, I shall watch and wait, and I shall remember my sweet momma. While I mourn my brother and my sisters that have gone before me and yearn for my grandmas and the grandpas I never knew, I am filled with anticipation! Some one asked me once if I believed in the hereafter and Jesus. I told them this, "If I did not believe I could not continue to put one foot in front of the other here on this earth. "
My goal is my crown and my hope is in my salvation and all of that is centered around my saviour and my mother.
Any more questions?
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1 comment:
Our mothers were much alike. Being the oldest of four means that I have more memories of her holding others than of being held by her. I remember my Mommy holding me late at night with a towel over my head while I breathed the fumes of Vicks in pan of hot water. Also gently blowing cigarette smoke in my ear to relieve earache pain! But I never doubted that I was loved. In the early years Daddy was always working in the fields or the barn or on a neighboring farm to help someone who had helped us the summer that he was hospitalized and then recovering (miraculously) from polio. Around that time Mom suffered from what today would be called post partem depression and after the birth of her third child. She told us what cured her and got her home was the doctors’ advising them that she need electroshock therapy! It has another kinder gentler name these days. I think she agreed to be hospitalized after one day when she locked herself in the bathroom and sent me to find Daddy. Later we learned that she was afraid she would kill us and herself!
It was a running joke in the family that I (first born) was the only offspring that resulted from a "planned pregnancy." I’m tempted to write my brother and say that we now have confirmation that he was the one conceived while “spermicidal jelly" was in fashion. I’m convinced that his brain development was affected based on the bizarre Q-Anon BS and outrageous tRumpist talking points that he spouts every time I or my sisters have the guts to call him to say Merry Xmas or Happy Birthday.
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