For my mother

Many people call my mother friend. They flock to her at social gatherings and laugh as she regales them with anecdote after anecdote, most of them involving one or more of her eight children (Sewing Jeffrey's leg up with dental floss, anyone?) There is just something about that woman that screams "safe place, all are welcome here." She will love you, even when she emphatically, absolutely, positively disagrees with you... or what you just said... Or what you just did... or who you're dating... or who you're voting for... or what religion you belong to.  She will still love you. It's just one of her many qualities that I wish to better emulate.

So many times, (even now as a grown woman in my thirties) the first thing I want to do when things get tough is run home to my mother. I guess, somehow, the world doesn't seem as scary when she's next to me. And that's who she is: a pillar of strength for everyone. Sadly, this beautiful and inspiring woman (like many others) doesn't believe she was a great mother to us growing up and she relives her mistakes often. If only she could see how the rest of us view her.

When I look at my mother, I see a woman who gave birth to eight healthy children (five of them without any epidurals or drugs!) I see a woman who spent 25 years of her life homeschooling those eight kids. I see a woman who single-handedly packed up our camper and kids several times a year so we could go to the desert, even though she spent the whole time working like a dog and was pretty much hot, tired, and miserable the whole time. I see a woman who gives everything she has to help someone, and when she has nothing left to give, she gives her time. I see a woman who loves pretty things and tried so hard to make a beautiful home, despite her children foiling her plans at every turn. She has great decorating sense and always has such great ideas.

Let's face it, the woman is a creative genius. I've often watched in amazement the collaboration that takes place between her and my dad. Usually she would come up with an idea and he would make it happen. They really were a great team in that way.

If I had to pick just one thing above the countless others that my mother has taught me, it would be this:

Don't listen to the negative input from outsiders, they don't have all the information, so they don't know what works for us and what doesn't. They aren't raising your kids and it's not their right to put their two cents in, you don't owe them an explanation. Listen instead to your instincts, your kids, your husband and God, they will give you a more honest appraisal of your progress than the world ever could.

This lesson is one that was never vocalized, but instead, I saw it frequently executed in her daily life. When she wanted to homeschool her kids, the world told her how stupid that was... she did it anyway.  When she had eight kids, the world told her how stupid she was... she did it anyway. When she decided to join my dad in learning to fly, the world didn't think it was a good idea... she did it anyway. When she decided to move her family to Idaho, the world said it was bad juju... she did it anyway.  She did these things (and many more)  because she knew that these things would be best for HER family. It was hard on her to face so much vocal opposition at every turn, but she bore it with a silent strength I wish I had.

I could go on and on and on for days about my mother and how magnificent she is, but I'm going to stop here with a simple:

"Thank you, Mommis, I don't know what we would have done or who we would be without you. I love you and Happy Mother's Day."