Today is Mother's Day. I'm one of the lucky ones. I still have my mom.
She is doing her Christian ministry of helping out at the radio station and singing later at her church today. We already sat aside some time this weekend to be together. I picked out a special card depicting a little child smearing paint all over the walls, which made her tear up. Not that I was that bad of a child. Really, I wasn't. But she did play "let's remember" and brought up a few of my finer moments of childlike behavior. I gave her a little something that I hope will be practical as a gift. She liked it. And here in just a little while she should be calling me and letting me know that she is up, off and on her way. She won't get back from her religious activities until after I have gone to bed in preparation for my work week ahead. Not bad for a gal who just turned 79 in March. I'll call her tomorrow on my lunch break to see how her day went and find out how she's doing. Her church activities keep her going. Those actives wear her out now, but for her it all is truly a labor of love. Only now it takes a couple of days of rest to recuperate from her busy weekends.
I can play "remember when," too. This weekend my mind has gone back in time to when my mother was pregnant with my little brother. I was still small and my older brother was six years my senior. My brother and I always had toy soldiers and plastic Cowboys and Indians. Tons of them. How many times we reenacted the Battle of the Little Big Horn or the battles of World War ll, I've no away of recalling. But I do recall one activity we enjoyed during my mom's pregnancy. It was his idea. He would take a book while our mom was resting on the couch and lay it on her belly. Upon that we would balance one or more of our soldiers or plastic Cowboys and Indians. Then we would wait for our unborn brother to move around and "kick" the book, knocking the soldiers over. The three of us always had great fun with this. My earliest memories of Mom were just like this one. Memories of her being a doting mother to her children. That was what it was always about for her.
You know the great thing? My mother is still the same person I always remember her being. I celebrate this day with her and in her honor, with all the sweet memories which are too numerous to recount here. She nurtured her children back in the days of breast feedings and cloth diapers, and instilled in each of us a sense of decency and compassion that served as the cornerstones of our lives.
That book ritual of mine and my brother's seems as vivid in my mind as yesterday's sunrise. My older brother has passed away now (I thought it would kill Mom), my younger brother is still kicking as hard as ever, and I'm intent on making the most of whatever life still holds for us. The past guides us still.