Tomorrow is my mother’s birthday. When I think of my childhood, there are too many precious memories of her to possibly write about them all. But, my most favorite are the subtle things that are simply my mother. 

Homework help always happened at the kitchen table or in the den. If it was written work, my mama would cook supper as she used her teacher voice, aiding us in every subject.  She would rinse and chop vegetables, and my papers had about a dozen dried Debbie index prints the next morning, from her pointing to math problems, spelling words, and study guides.  I always had to explain to my teachers the crinkled spots on my homework.  I love that memory for many reasons. It reminds me that my mother never stopped working. She was up at the crack of dawn and did not stop until her head hit the pillow for sleep. She is still that way, and I admire her for it greatly.

On her way to bed, she would stop in our rooms and gently touch our foreheads. Obviously, I was not always sleeping when she did this, and I counted on it every night. When I was in teenage angst, that small, yet powerful, gesture soothed my heart. And, when I see her now, she still does this when I am feeling down. 

One of the memories that has stayed  so deeply ingrained in my mind is how my mother would browse through clothes when she took me shopping. She’d see things that she liked, but she never bought anything for herself. She went without many times so that we wouldn’t have to. I understand this more and more the longer I am a parent. And, I know now that those times brought her much joy. Even though she left those stores empty-handed, she came home with a full heart. 

My mother has lived her life by following God’s word. She is the most optimistic person I have ever met. She is honest, giving, and the definition of joy. Her guidance and love means the world to me.  She is my best friend, and I love her so big. 

Happy Birthday, Mama.