Sometime during the middle of 1933, my grandfather boiled a pot of water to use for his morning shave. His youngest child, a daughter who had yet to take her first steps, reached up and pulled down on the handle. Her shrieks rang out and the months to come were hard and sad for her parents, her eight siblings and for the child herself. Over time, the fingers of her right hand healed in a closed position. Her brothers and sisters mused that my grandad often petted or favored her, not only because she was the last of his nine children, but because of her crippled hand. That baby was my mama.
Jake, my grandfather, was a sharecropper during the Great Depression and he and my grandmother experienced that life near the bottom of the economic ladder. Even so, my mom, almost without exception, remembered and relived her childhood in the most positive light. She adored her own mother and told stories of my grandmother’s faith, work ethic, and sacrifice. Even today, my 87-year-old dad speaks highly of his own mother-in-law.
Fast forward to 1952, my dad, just back from his service in the Korean War, married my mom. In four short years my sister was born, then four years later, I came along.
Before I was old enough to go to first grade, (I was six and there was no kindergarten in our rural part of northeast Alabama) I remember hanging on the back of my mom’s sewing machine chair and nagging her about when my sister would be home from school. I remember running through the clean sheets she hung on the line outside to dry and how they smelled like outdoors after she brought them in. I remember sitting on the countertop hovering over her while she made biscuits and waiting for her to give me a taste of raw dough. I even remember the shape of the old plastic bowl she used and how the crinkled wax paper looked inside the bowl. I remember helping dad clean the quail he had shot, then watching mom fry it in a black iron skillet.
I remember wondering if I could ever shell peas as fast as my mom could. I remember following mom around with my pillowcase cotton sack while she worked in a friend’s cotton field. I remember being mom’s helper when she cleaned out chicken houses for relatives and I remember receiving my first real day’s pay for doing that job myself.
I remember accompanying her to tent revivals (although that is not what we called them), gospel meetings, funeral services, and to homes where dead bodies had been brought back for the customary amount of grieving time. And I remember going with her to take one of my cancer-stricken aunts for cobalt treatments.
I remember spending the day with her and my relatives cleaning the cemetery before “Decoration Day” in May and preparing food for the annual family reunion afterward. I remember mom reading a Bible story to my sister and me every night before bed, and then she would pray.
All those memories, and many more, were before first grade.
I wanted to be big like my sister and go to school, but I didn’t want to leave mama. I, of course, did go to school and pretended independence. As I recall, I teared up when I got out of the car, but settled in okay for the mornings. The afternoons, however, were a different story. I missed my mama and I cried, albeit quietly.
Mama knew I was sad because I begged her not to make me go back. Instead of keeping me home, she sent a smooth-rimmed nickel and one small box of raisins with me each day. She told me to buy chocolate milk in the afternoon during snack time and to eat the raisins. And she said if I could go that long without being sad and crying, that she would be there very soon to take me home. So that became my goal. I would hold the nickel in my sweaty left hand and the raisins in my right. I wanted to sneak just one raisin early so mama would come quicker, but I knew that was cheating. So I waited. And when time came I gulped down a half pint of cold chocolate milk and ate raisins with a happy grin on my face.
Sure enough, she came.
Of course not all of childhood was so simplistic and there were rocky times. I do not pretend that life with mom was always easy. I was strong-willed and sometimes rebellious, so mom and I fussed a lot. Both of us were flawed, but we always loved each other.
Mom survived a major heart attack and two cancer diagnoses. Through those physical struggles she never stopped loving my dad, my sister and me, our families and her grandchildren. She was strong. Very.
Her last years and months were hard for her and hard for us. Dementia is cruel. Even near death though, God gave mom some moments of clarity and I am thankful to Him for those.
A few weeks ago, I hurriedly walked into Wal-Mart, then paused at the Mother’s Day cards. For the first time in my life, I had no reason to browse through the options to find just the right one. It’s amazing how nice people in Wal-Mart can be when they see tears in the greeting card aisle. Even through my tears though, I can put mama’s life and death in a positive frame.
Mom often told us about how hard it was when my grandmother died. Mom was twenty-eight and I was almost a year old. She said she would feed me, then stand at the window with my sister hanging on her leg, and rock back and forth with me on her shoulder, and cry for her own mom. So while this Mother’s Day feels heavy to me, I like to believe that it is the best Mother’s Day ever for my mom. That she is embraced by her own mother and that Jesus is “gathering mama and grandmother under His wings like a hen gathers her chicks.”
I wanted my mama in first grade and I want her now. After the chocolate milk and raisins are gone from my life, and because of the grace of Jesus Christ, I too, will join mom and the angels to praise God forever.
Mom’s gravestone reads, “…away from the body, and at home with the Lord.” What a blessing!
Thank you God, for my mother.
Beautiful memories and tribute … and, yes, a reminder of the realities of life that make the sweet times sweeter.
Lisa, you brought tears to my eyes. Thank you!
Lisa, I have been thinking about you and Cindy this week, and now this beautiful tribute for Aunt Teen showed up. You were blessed by her and her mother and those blessings trickled down to many of us. She was blessed by you, too. She’s spending Mother’s Day with not only her mother, but all her sisters. What a joyful thought! Much love to you from me!
Hugs to Lisa.
I LOVE this, Lisa! Thank you for sharing a piece of your heart…
Nice
So beautiful, Lisa 😊😢
So beautiful. I cried all the way through. My precious mother has been gone a year & a half & I miss her every day. Today I’m baking in her honor – and crying as I do so, b/c that’s what she loved to do & what we often did together. There is no earthly love like a mother’s love. You wrote yours a beautiful tribute. Thank you for sharing. Love you
Absolutely beautiful!
Crying hard and missing my mother who passed away in 1996. Thank you Lisa for these words!
I miss you too!💗
Lisa, this is a beautiful tribute to and sweet remembrance of your mom. Happy mothers day to you. Love you. Janet
What a dear sweet remembrance!
Lisa, your childhood sounds much like my own. Very special!
Sounds so familiar, Lisa. I well understand your feelings! Hugs and Happy Mothers Day!
Thank you, Lisa. I needed this today. I have spent the last three hours crying on and off for my mother. We cry for our moms when we’re little and cry for them when we’re old. It helps to remember that they are somewhere so much better and as I get closer to home, I long to see my mom and dad more and more. May God bless you on this different Mother’s Day and give you comfort.
Lisa, thanks for sharing your heart! What a beautiful relationship you had!! Not to dis Jody, but you should write more often 😊.
Oh my friend! As I read this with tears in my eyes, i want to thank you for putting into words what so many of us have in our hearts. Love the pics of you and your Mama and, like you, know that mine, too, is resting in the arms of Jesus, happy to have been a mom, but even happier to be with her Lord! Love you my friend and Happy Mother’s Day! ❤️
Lisa this is a beautiful writing from a beautiful heart. Thank you for sharing this! Am sharing it now myself:)
Lisa, I remember many of the same things you remembered. I started crying way before I finished reading your blog. My mama was much like your mama. Oh, that I could be like them!
Marsy Thomas
Thx for sharing Lisa! I see you in your description of your Mom! Enjoy your day!
Thank you for sharing from your heart! You are a blessing.
Hey Wister Cecile, I don’t remember knowing about chocolate milk and raisins. I did not like raisins. I did have experience in some form with the rest of those stories. I also know that for sometines good and ill, as long as she could think she never stopped believing you wanted her and needed her and I know how very much you love her. Yes, absent from us present with Him, in peace. I love you too.
This life and body is not our home. What a wonderful thought. I wonder why we cling for dear ‘life’ to it at times and sigh with relief at the thought of Heaven at other times? Thanks for the thoughts! Happy Mother’s Day, Lisa!
You made an old man cry too.
Lisa,
I remember the sweet heart you had in college. You haven’t changed. Thanks for a beautiful way to remember your mom. You certainly helped my memories come out.
Beautiful, Lisa just Beautiful!! I love you!!
Beautiful.
Bob Noblitt
Your mother is a beautiful lady and you are a gifted writer. I hope your Dad is doing well.
Lisa, what a beautiful honor and treat to read about your momma; tugged my heartstrings, and shared with two friends who experienced the transition of their mothers days ago. Miss that smile of yours!
Nice story!
Beautiful and a wonderful expression of love and remembrance. I’m teary now, but thank you for sharing.
Thank you, Lisa, for such a touching tribute.
Thanks Lisa, as Jody preached yesterday I thought of your recent loss of your Mom and said a prayer for you. You shared dear times and a Mother Daughter love that is so precious and meaningful. Love you! Ms Maggie
This piece is wonderful Lisa . A beautiful tribute Love and miss y’all
Sue
Lisa, such precious memories and sweet words. I miss my mom and her funny laugh. You brought me to tears and left me smiling.
Thank you friend.
The apple didn’t fall far from the tree. She was amazing and so are you! Love all those Pack folks.
Lisa, Beautiful tribute to your mom and captured in such a vivid way that similar mental images come to mind with my mom. Wonderful thoughts! Love the personal experiences and endearing moments that you share. Thank you !
Love you
Beautiful, Lisa. Thanks for sharing.
I’m just reading this beautiful tribute to your sweet mother almost a year later, but it brings so many sweet memories of my mother and growing up years. March 28th was her homegoing birthday (she’s been gone since 1978) and I was just reminiscing in my heart and mind of the wonderful life the Lord blessed me with with her in my life! Thank you for sharing your sweet memories.