I have so many mixed feelings on Mother's Day. I love the fact that I am a mother but miss my mom so much it makes my heart hurt. If I could have one wish it would be that my mother could come back for a day to meet Rebekah and Joshua's children. She would just love Winston, Allison, and Aries. I would want part of that day to tell her how much I love her and how the things that she taught me and believed are ingrained on my heart. I just want an hour or two just to touch her and hold her. She was a Christian. She read her bible daily and believed in her salvation. She prayed daily for her family and I know that she shed tears for all of us at one time or another when we struggled with our own faith.
I was a latchkey kid during a time that most mothers stayed at home. She was divorced and had to work to keep a roof over our heads and food in our stomachs. We would have qualified for any number of modern day government programs. We would have had food stamps, and medicaid at a minimum. But my mother was a very proud and independent and would have viewed any assistance as charity and would have refused to accept the help. We survived. We had food. We had heat in the winter and a warm home. She worked hard at two jobs but she did what she needed to do. I knew that I was loved. She taught me by example that hard work was honorable and that to provide for your family was a joy. Mom was my rock and she loved me unconditionally. Nearly every day something will happen and I will think "I need to call mom, she would love this", That it catches me off guard, after all this time, amazes me. She died on Mother's Day in 2002 and I still have moments that think she is a phone call away. I frequently dream when I sleep and on occasion have dreamed of my mom and I sitting having a conversation. Usually I am going over a painful struggle with which I am presently dealing and she is sitting there listening with such intentness on her face and she gives me advice. I have often woken up in tears but also feeling that I have been given a gift, created by my imagination, fed by years of knowing her beliefs and I have the answer that I am seeking.
I miss you mom. I love you. This year. Every year.