Today is my mother's birthday.
Mom has been gone for 17 years, and I still miss her. I want to show her that I love her. I long to share my delight in my grandchildren with her. I want to tell her that I finally sold a book to the publisher I had been submitting to (and being rejected by) for the last 30 years. I have so much to show her, to share with her, to tell her.
My husband pointed out that Mom knows. She knows everything and has been watching out for our family for all these years, just as she did when she was here with us. Mom never had much in the way of material goods, but she had a quick sense of humor, a quest for learning, and a no-nonsense way of getting things done.
Mom would have been bewildered by and, quite frankly, impatient with the air of entitlement that is so prevalent in our society today. She would have said to those who think the world owes them a living, "Get up. Get moving. Get doing." Good advice whatever our circumstances.
I guess I inherited some of that, because I, too, can be impatient. I don't let it bother me because I figure if I can have some of my mother in me, I'm doing okay.
Mom worked hard all of her life. She gave generously, paid tithes and offerings, and remembered her grandchildren with cards and calls and silly gifts. On one visit to the family, Mom snuck rocks inside her grandson's backpack. He carried them all day before realizing what she'd done. Go, Mom!
Joy for today: remembering Mom.