April 24. Grateful & Blessed

                                                              

 Hers was a kind word, never judge-mental. She listened

with her heart to the grief of others, the stories of strife and 

sorrow they shared. And rejoiced with them in their joy and

gladness, at some good fortune they experienced. 

People liked to be with Mother.

 Perhaps it was because she had a 

joyful, happy spirit and saw good in others, or  because it was evident Mom valued her friends, and held them dear, as one might cherish a family treasure. She made hers (ours) a pleasant home, a haven of sorts for folks to come to feel welcome, and comfortable. 

My Mother had a deep faith, and when confronted with a challenge she would remind my brother and me, and others  to Be still, and know. To trust. God would provide. Not just words she said, but words she lived.

                                                   

Being a single mother, Mom worked hard to provide for Walt and me. But never was there a time Mother wasn’t present to us, there for us to share in our activities, festivities, achievements or heartaches. One sweet memory, during the summer months when it was light longer outside, and hot, Mom would call and tell Walt and me to pack up some peanut butter sandwiches and be ready to go the the beach when she got home. A really special time for both me and my brother. We cherished those late afternoons driving to the beach with Mom, chattering back and forth and laughing together. It didn’t occur to me then, only when I got older about how tired Mom must have been. 

Working all day, then coming straight away home to drive my brother and me to the beach so we could cool down. 

Mother often read us poetry, and told us stories about growing up in Council Bluffs; wonderful stories about our grandparents, and aunt and uncles; about her childhood friends Rosie and Betty,  and singing in school operettas. And about Rosie’s older brother, Joe Barrett  being killed in WWII, and how Mom sang Ave Maria at his funeral Mass, and the sadness  of it all. 

Mom had a calming presence about her. It was in her voice, and in her touch. Something I miss so very much. Not hearing the sound of my dear Mother’s voice, and feeling her arms about me. 

Today is April 24. It would be my Mother’s 90th birthday. I think of Mom, and am so grateful for the beautiful, strong, fun, faithful, amazing woman she was; for the gift of life she gave me, and for the great gift of her unconditional love. So very thankful am I! God blessed me to be my Mother’s daughter! 

                                                  

Happy (Heavenly) Birthday, Mama. I love you forever, and always