A very special lady is celebrating a big birthday tomorrow (in a couple of hours actually), and it happens to be the woman I’m beyond blessed to call my Mom.
As a wife, I’ve watched her be a true and faithful helpmate to my Dad in every sense of the word. Whether that be by fixing his plate every night at supper (He may tease her about how Mamma Bradley spoiled him with hot fried potatoes when she heard the tractor pulling in, but Mom spoils him pretty well herself.), supporting him in the ministry by making countless phone calls to check on the flock they’re called to serve, or even, as much as she hates it, helping him work cows from time to time, she’s been there for him in all things. They do life together as any couple should.
As a mom, she’s simply the best. From rocking us to sleep, to keeping us on top of our school work, to giving us the look and pulling out our middle names when the need arose, she’s been there for my siblings and me from day one.
Not that we weren’t close before, but Mom and I grew closer when I left for Nashville with strict orders to call home every day. Those daily phone calls definitely helped me survive as a country girl with stranger anxiety in a big city full of strangers. Almost without fail, the first question she asked me every day was, “What’d you eat today?” She did not trust a college cafeteria to take care of her picky eater the way she could, nor did she trust her picky eater to be brave and at least try the food. I’m pretty sure she got as tired of hearing, “Peanut butter,” as she did, “I hate school and want to come home,” but she never let it show and would still ask, “What’d you eat?” the very next day.
Watching her transition from being a mom of kids to a mom of young adults, I learned her love for us was much deeper than I could have ever imagined. Were it in her power to keep us from making even the slightest mistake, she would in a heartbeat. Or, were it in her power to hand us our dreams on a silver platter, or even make our journey toward achieving them just a little bit easier, she would without a moment’s hesitation. And, since that’s not in her power, she does what she can—worries over us perhaps a little too much, but, more importantly, prays for us far more than we know.
Though I could go on and on, I’ll share one more story and then wrap it up. Growing up, whenever I was depressed about something that wasn’t going at all the way I wanted it to or about how unfair life can be, which was almost daily during my school career and still happens from time to time today, my Mom’s thing was to tell me that someday something was going to work out for me. Already in a mood, I usually replied, “Yeah right,” and a few times, like when I was paying outrageous mechanic bills on my second lemon of a car for it to still not be fixed, I would pop off, “Yeah, and that’ll be so shocking I’ll promptly kill over from a heart attack.” (Needless to say, I’ve never been mistaken for an optimist.) Even though I didn’t always appreciate or want to hear about someday when something was going to work out, she kept telling me that.
Fast-forward to one of the best days of my life. I was over-the-moon with excitement, and I’m pretty sure I had a goofy grin on my face the whole day while privately celebrating my first taste of “real” writing success. I got home that afternoon and was sitting at the kitchen table with Mom, and she asks me, “So, did you ever think it would happen?” I replied, “No, not really.” What I almost said that day, and perhaps should have said, was, “No, but you did.” I had hopes. I had determination. She had the faith. And, that’s a big part of the reason I’m pretty sure God made her to be a mom, but the best part is: He made her to be my Mom.
For catering to my picky eating, for pep-talks, for being the strongest woman I know, for being a great example of a godly wife and mother, and for a million other things, thanks, Mom! I wish you the happiest of birthdays!
justsamjw 