MOTHER'S "DAY"

Once There Was a Baby

How did your mother spend her day?

Did she have a job or do volunteer work outside the home?

Journal answer 4 March 2001

I really don’t know how mom spent her day but I can surmise from things I do know. 

On the right is a picture of her mother holding her as a young child.

Our family always had everything we really needed. I attribute that to her frugality and diligent hard work and innovative efforts.

Mom with unknown child 

I remember arriving home after school on very few occasions that she was not there. She might go to Lethbridge, one hour away by car, [usually caught a ride with a neighbor, Betty Stewart, Orva Smith, Necia Bennett, or maybe Delaine Lowry] to do shopping or just for the trip out of town.

Finding her not at home was as rare as finding there wasn’t any bread in the large bread drawer (that accommodated 10 loaves with room to spare). The bread in the drawer was always a Piranha feeding frenzy after school. We often saw bread in process as we came in from school and if it were just out of the oven –  too soft and hot to cut – we would just tear a loaf into pieces to eat with dripping butter (actually margarine) and/or honey or jam. Mother baked 10 loaves of bread 3 or 4 times a week. (One of the few treats we had on a regular basis were the cinnamon rolls she made from any dough left over from making the loaves of bread.)

Most often she was about some task: laundry, sewing, gardening, or other home-animal-and-farm care. She spent a lot of time taking care of the outdoors and indoors while dad was gone: wood and coal for the furnace, feeding animals, milking cows and separating off the cream, hauling water to drink and bathe before we had running water, and any other yard or garden chores that needed attention. Our garden was about ½ acre – I realize now that our diet consisted mostly of the vegetables raised in that plot and meat from the farm and hunting.

All else aside there were 10 of us kids and she spent much time keeping us all spotlessly clean and bathed, neatly dressed, and fed - I never remember ever being hungry; there were few treats but never were we hungry. In the mid 60’s mom and dad invited a student from the Indian Placement Program to live in our home for more than 10+ years. I heard her tell dad, “What difference does one more make?” 

One more meant one more around the 8'x 4' table adding up to 13, one more sandwich each morning on the lunch assembly line, AND one more helper: mom kept us as busy, and happily involved in all aspects of working and playing, as children can be.

I was so oblivious that I probably wouldn’t know she worked so hard if we hadn’t missed all she did when she was not home. Sometimes she would be visiting teaching or taking care of someone that needed help. Some days we knew to get off the bus where she was at – other days she would just wave the bus to a stop as it passed a house along the bus route where she happened to be and give some instructions to us and/or take the younger children with her.

In addition to all other things she served in many church organizations and callings. 

One of the adventures that was looked forward to each year was berry picking.  Everybody big and little, old and young went berry picking. We were always allowed to eat as many berries as we wished as long as we had a bucket and picked into it to contribute to the gallons of berries to be preserved for the winter months – except that they seemed to disappear VERY early in the winter - we loved to eat berries.  

Mother also took care of aging relatives. Some of my funnier memories are of grandparents living with us as their bodies and minds became feeble.  She was always so kind; to them and to us. We seldom went to a doctor - Mother took care of us – especially when one or more of us were ill.  It was amazing how she could discern the difference between fake and real illness.

My mother will celebrate her 80^th birthday Thursday.  

I honor the noble, hard working, gentle, upright example you provided to me every day of my life, mom. I pay tribute to your 80 years - 80 years of struggles and striving, 80 years of infinite faith, 80 years of living and loving.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY Mom.

August 2010 birthday trip

IT'S NOT RAINING - yet

Recently my hubby and I helped our youngest son plant a garden plot.  The afternoon was windy and clouded over as we drove 1 ½ hours to his home.  As we arrived large drops of rain randomly splashed - one here – another there – not enough to be noticed unless one hit you dead on – then you might wonder where the water came from or if it might rain; but you might be missed 
– and then there was a break and the sun came out.

He showed me his overgrown but beautiful white and purple lilac bushes lining the property.  I showed him how to hoe the rows and commented, “I sure hope we don’t get wet.”

He matter-of-factly replied, “It’s not going to rain.”

The next time I made a weather related comment a slow drip, drip drop of sprinkling had begun.  I was worried.  This was our one shot, only available time to get the job done. He again told me not to worry.  Emphatically he said, “Mom – believe – it is not going to rain.”  The sprinkling stopped and the steady breeze dried us to only damp.  He was right.   The dirt still had dust under a skim of moist soil.  We continued to plant. 

He hoed, I tossed down seeds in the rows and Papa covered them with soil – or some variation of that rotation.  The drip, drip drop started again – steadily this time.  I grimly refused to comment another time.  The weather itself would settle the matter and I was already damp.  The water that formed into droplets and fell from my hair onto my royal blue, gardening over-shirt or ran down my neck occasionally was indistinguishable from the spreading, darkening (to a bright navy) as the shirt became wet enough to start to seep through to my t-shirt.

Funny etched looking, dry footprints walked behind each of us as our feet picked up enough of the shallow mud layer to make thick clods that could be shaken off after a few steps. We were almost finished. While I planted a watermelon, and tomato and pepper sets they dug in several rows of pre-cut seed potatoes.  Corn, carrot, pea, bean, pumpkin, lettuce and cucumber seeds lay nicely ordered in rows marked at each end with small stones that had tilled to the surface during soil preparation.  I felt smug at how our persistence might pay dividends; if the rain continued, the dry seeds would be soaked with no effort on our part at no cost to us.

Rainy gusts alternated with random misty sprinkles. While Papa put away tools and finished the last details, my son and I headed for the front and side flower beds to place a few flower seeds.  (Someone had given him quite a few packages of seeds and we had also transplanted some spaghetti squash starts someone had provided.)  As we opened the seemingly frivolous flower seeds the sky also seemed to open.  Quickly we buried the seed and ran to the car but it was too late.  I peeled off my dripping over-shirt.  It was wet enough to wring water from its long twill tails.

We laughed – that previous little bit of sprinkling wasn’t rain.
This was rain!

As we drove away to look at some nicely pruned lilacs we had seen across town

the windshield of the car looked like the stream from a fire hose was washing over it.  The wipers at their fastest speed could not keep up.  We drove slowly and chuckled.  It hadn’t rained; at least not until we had finished the requisite gardening.  My heart was full of thanks.  God had stilled a storm even as I doubted and mentally muttered.

My attitude thought I was enduring rain.  Then the weather settled the matter – and watered the garden too. Pounding rain continued the rest of the evening. I felt humbled.  

When we returned home we could see the wind had displaced many things in our area and significant moisture had fallen.  The next morning we heard news reports of a small tornado that twisted the barn of a local farmer into a heap.

God had indeed stilled a genuine storm.  He knows our every need.  And we always can trust Him to know what is best for each of us.  My own attitude is the real difference.

Has it rained on you yet?

(Sure - it may have a tornado in it.)