I love this picture of my Mom. You may not be able to see it, but she is holding a picture of my Dad in her hand. She had one of her sisters take this picture of her holding my Dad's picture so she could send it to my Dad overseas. He was stationed in Germany at the time serving in the Air Force during the Korean war. They were engaged and planned to get married when he returned home, which they did.
This is another one of my favorite photos. This is of my Dad and Mom a few months after they were married. They look so young and happy and in love in this photo.
It's been a year since my Mom died. I miss her very much. Yet, as much as I miss her, I still feel like she is with me all the time. It's a good feeling. Scattered in various places in my home are things that once belonged to her. They are simple things like a white candy dish with flowers etched into the glass, another little dish (or maybe it's a planter?) that is shaped like a pug nose dog looking out of his dog house, and a pair of blue ceramic baby booties. Just a few simple knickknacks here and there that seemed to be her favorites and that now grace areas of my home and remind me of her.
From where I am sitting right now, I can see three afghans that she made for me draped across the couch. In other rooms of my house are four or five others. She was a very talented crocheter and knitter. She could create amazing things with a needle or hook and a skein of yarn. She was also an excellent cook and baker. She took great pleasure in doing for others whether it was crocheting an afghan to keep them warm or making a home-cooked meal for them or baking them cookies. My sons always distinguished her from their other grandmothers when they were little as the "cookie grandma."
So when I wrap up in one of her afghans on a chilly evening or use one of her recipes to make something for my family, I feel her presence too. My cooking and baking never taste quite as good to me as hers always did, but I do try.
She really does seem to be with me everywhere. I look down at my hands and see my mother's hands, for they look so much like hers did. I hear an old song on the radio, and in my head, I can see her in the kitchen of my childhood home stirring homemade chocolate pudding on the stove and singing along softly to that very same song. In church I think of her often and remember all the times I sat next to her in the church pews of my childhood. When I am struggling with a problem or trying to make a decision about something, I can remember bits of wisdom that she passed on to me through the years, and it is almost as if she is with me helping me figure out what I should do next.
She was a patient, generous, kind, and wise woman. I am so very grateful to have had her as my mother. I don't remember a single moment in my life when I didn't feel loved and cared for by my Mom. She was a light in my life that was always shining, showing me the way, and keeping me safe. She was a gift and a blessing to me during all of her days on earth. I miss her very much, but I am so very glad to have been her daughter. I'm very glad for all the wonderful memories I have of time that we spent together. I am grateful to her knowing that I am who I am because she was who she was, and she was someone who was very special indeed.
Lord, for the generous, kind, and caring mother that you gave me, for all the love she shared with me, and for all the wonderful memories I have of her, please help me to be truly grateful.








