Sunday, May 12, 2013


She is my mother.  She is unique and unprecedented.  She is perhaps the most detailed person I have ever known in my life.  She is the voice in my head that whispers things like,"did you lock the door?" and "don't forget your purse!".  She is small, but she is mighty.  She is my mom. And, I love her dearly.

Her story is special. She lost her first baby in a tragic car accident, and then I came along a few years later.  Soon into my little life, she realized that I had something terribly wrong with my hip. This young mother, that had already endured her share of trials, found herself in the hospital with her second baby. The surgeons at Shriner's hospital told her that I needed major surgery on my hip if I were to continue to walk.  She stayed by my side when they casted my whole body at the age of two and again at the age of nine.  She made the hard decision of yet more surgery on my knee at 13.  We spent months together in the hospital.  She was always and night.  Many times she did not have a car and she relied on the generosity of strangers for a place to stay.  She was there...strong for me. We shared many hospital memories over the years. She was brave, asked the tough questions, and made sure my life would be the best it could be.

When the hospital days were gone, she made sure to share her love of all things girly.  She always had me in lovely dresses she hand-made.  Bonnets and bows, lacy socks and pink rooms were my entire life.  One time for Christmas, she sewed countless tiny Barbie doll dresses and hung them on tiny hangers all over our Christmas tree for me to find.  She loved things like that.  I loved her all the more for it. She let me play with fabric and scissors. She taught me about pretty things and the treasure of hands hard at work. She taught me to see beauty.

She showed me how to work hard.  From a young age, I knew what cleaning meant.  When we routinely cleaned,  it included things like washing down the baseboards and vacuming the mini blinds.  We mopped basement steps and washed windows.  To this day, the smell of Murphy's Oil Soap is permanenty etched int my mind.  It makes me think of home! She taught me to never give up on stain removing.  She can make a pot shine like nobody I know.  I can only hope my skills increase as the years pass.

She dreamed big dreams.  She went back to college when I was girl.  She worked her way through school and earned full scholoarships that paid for her degrees.  She persued her love of knowledge and shared that love with my brother and I.  She taught us to love books, appreciate art, and  to dig for answers.  She would give us geography lessons at the breakfast table on summer mornings.  She had a library in our home that was actually shelved according to the Dewey Decimal system.  My brother and I had to turn our books in to her to ensure proper reshelving.  We giggled at it, but she loved things well-organized.  She always knew right where to go on the shelf to find what we wanted.

She made sure we saw much of the world. We traveled many places. She let us cross oceans and span continents. She taught us to love people and places. She gave us the permission to go and see. She didn't hold back. My brother and I were always looking for the next adventure, and she was always helping us find one.

The funny thing is, she grew up very simply. She was number nine of ten. Her father died when she was just a child. Her mother kept the family together by hard work and determination. She knew how hard one must have to work to gain any ground in life. She learned the lessons, and has always diligently worked in any task, great or small. She taught me that life was there for the taking, but I had to be the one to hold the reigns.

Above all, she taught me to live in faith. She taught the most important thing in life is a life surrendered to Christ. She lived her life so that I would know that her words matched her actions. She taught me to pray, forgive, and trust. She taught me that giving of myself is always far better than receiving. She helped my heart to be sensitive to others. She showed me how to love.

She isn't perfect. She has opinions, and she speaks her mind. She is passionate and honest to the core. We haven't always agreed, and we have had our fair share of discussions and tears. But, she apologizes when needed, and forgets my wrongs when I need her to. She is tough on truth and morals. But, she never stops loving.

She is a lot of things to me. Mostly, she is just my momma. She is that good feeling that I still get sitting at the kitchen eating her homemade pancakes. She is the soft place to land when my heart hurts and I am weary. She still worries over me like a little child some times, but that's ok...that is what mommas do, after all. She is my dearest friend and my trusted confident. She makes me laugh, and she is my greatest teacher. She wears many hats in my life, but she will always be my momma. And...I will always love her so very much for it.

B Charmer

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