"Thank You Mom"

Twenty years ago, if you had walked into my bedroom, you would have seen a big rectangle window on the far wall, opposite of you. Centered under that window you'd have seen my white day bed covered with a comforter full of pastel flowers. Sitting proudly among the very colorful pillows was Mr. Bear. (Although I would love to take the credit for such a creative name, I cannot. Stephanie from "Full House" claimed that name for her teddy bear long before I ever laid eyes on my fluffy Prince Charming.)  Even though he was missing an eye and some of his stuffing from a batting accident that occurred when my sweet brother decided to "play" with him, you would have thought he was beautiful! I know what you must be thinking: "Where in the world did you get such a special teddy bear?" Well, the answer to that question is easy. I got him from my mom.


Thank you for Mr. Bear, Mom! 


If you continued to look around my room, you would have seen a long dresser on the right wall with a big mirror on top. You would have seen a Bouncy Baby doll house in the corner and a closet, directly to your left, full of clothes, shoes, purses, and tubs of Barbie dolls. On the left wall was my American Girl Doll trunk and further down the wall was my night stand. One of my favorite things about this room, however, were the curtains. These weren't just any curtains, mind you, for they were not located over the window. Instead, they started a few feet away from the window and stretched the width of the room. They were split down the middle and attached at the ceiling. Each side was gathered and tied with white lace on the opposite walls. To get to my bed, you had to walk through a mint green "curtain canopy." I felt like a princess. Who was the master mind behind and the creator of these adorable curtains? Yep! You guessed it. My mom.


Thank you for my fairy tale bedroom Mom. I loved it!


Right next to the closet door, you would have seen a little wooden picture frame. In that frame, outlined in pink, was a drawing of two little lambs with the words "Ewe are loved" written under them. Directly under the frame was a little wooden shelf. On that shelf sat two little wooden lambs; their painted faces, full of personality. The shelf on the left wall was a little bigger. A little longer. This shelf held small glass tea sets, dainty figurines, and numerous porcelain dolls. Right in the middle of the shelf, however, sat a crocheted white lamb with black eyes and a black nose. I loved my room and I loved my lambs. Why did I love my lambs so much? They reminded me of Psalm 23. Why in the world would a 7 year old little girl even care about Psalm 23? The answer...my mom. You see, I was a fearful child. Scared of the dark. Scared of being left alone. Scared of thunder storms.  Scared of strangers. Scared of Santa Claus (I needed assurance one Christmas Eve that the chimney was locked!). I was even scared of Disney World characters (Though "Rescue Rangers" was my favorite cartoon back in the day, when Chip and Dale came over to give me a high-five in the Magic Kingdom, I came completely unglued! And my encounter with Mickey Mouse...well, let's just not even go there!). For some reason, everything from a massive toad in my roller skate to a "Scooby Doo" episode terrified me. During one of my fits of fear, however, mom crawled up in bed beside me. She opened up my Bible and read aloud Psalm 23. She even gave me a pen and let me underline it all by myself. She told me that we are all like little lambs and that the Lord is our Shepherd. She told me that when we put our trust in Him, He will always take care of us...that we have nothing to fear. She then helped me to memorize the passage. Anytime after that, if she saw me afraid, she would gently remind me of those verses. To this day, when I see a lamb, I am reminded of that special time Mom and I shared, of God's protection, and how He shepherds and cares for His sheep.


Thank you for that Mom.

As the years went on and life moved me further and further away from that bedroom, my mom and I got  closer. People tell me all the time that I look like her. Sometimes, I even get told that I act just like her too. Although some daughters may dread comments like these, I consider them to be the highest compliments anyone could ever give me. Everything about her, as a person and as a mom, I admire. For 27 years I have watched her...and for 27 years I have learned from her.


When I was sick...she would fix me chicken noodle and homemade potato soup. She would keep me hydrated with Kool-aid, Sprite, and sweet tea. She always had Popsicles in the fridge and warm salt water for me to gargle. There were bowls of vanilla wafers, goldfish, dry fruit loops, and stacks of saltine crackers. She would always make me eat a little something before I could take any medicine and she would place a cool, wet washcloth on my forehead when I had a headache or to relieve fever. She taught me, by example, how to gently care for someone who is sick.


Thank you Mom.


When I was 14...I had to have surgery to remove a knot from my collarbone. I was terrified. The morning of the surgery, however, Mom prayed with me and gave me an index card with Isaiah 41:10 written on it. "Fear not, for I have redeemed you; be not dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you, Yes, I will help you. I will uphold you with my righteous right hand." I remember saying it over and over to myself that morning...even as the anesthesia kicked in. By example, she showed me how to calm an anxious heart before a frightful surgery.


Thank you Mom.


September 15, 2009...she sat beside my dad with a smile on her face. The hospital room was crazy...doctors coming in, nurses hustling about, monitors being checked, machines being turned on and then off again, morphine being administered, oxygen being turned up. Dad kept his eyes on mom and her smiled never wavered. At one point Dad asked her "what do we do now?" Mom gently took his hands and calmly said "we just wait for you to get better." She never let go of his hands and never left his side. For my entire life I watched them together. This day was no different. Dad couldn't take his eyes off her and there was no other place that she wanted to be than right there beside him. In midst of chaos, Mom was strong, Dad was calm...and the room was so peaceful. Graciously she showed me, by sweet example, how to love unto death and to seek the Lord in grief, pain, and suffering. "God is Sovereign" she would tell me in the days after. I saw her seek Christ in her pain and rely on His strength to make it through each day. As I watched her, I finally began to see this life for what it really is...our temporary home. Her lack of fear reminded me also of that beautiful passage she led me to memorize so very long ago..."The Lord is my Shepherd...even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil. For You are with me."


Thank you Mom.


She has always been there for me. Though I cried on the phone with her every morning on my way to school that first year of teaching, she always answered my calls. She would come and stay weeks at a time with us in Fort Worth when Michael was going through his treatments. At hospital stays, she was the first visitor there in the mornings and the last one to leave in the evenings. To be quite honest, I think there were some nights that she didn't leave. I found her once, sitting in a far corner of the waiting room reading a magazine long after she had told us "goodnight." Her excuse was "well, I started this article earlier and I just wanted to finish it before I left." I fussed at her for still being there...but deep down, I was so thankful. Very few people could really understand how difficult the days and nights could be...but she did.


Thank you Mom.


She was right there beside me...holding my hand, encouraging me to breathe, feeding me ice chips, and helping me through labor pains when Titus was born. She was also there, right beside me, in the difficult days, weeks, and months that followed. She was there then...and she continues to be there now.  


"Thank you Mom." 


I pray that I am at least half the mother to Titus that you have been to me.


I love you. 

Happy Mother's Day!