My Mother, Whom I Love ~ A Mother’s Day Tribute

A tribute to our mother is the purpose, for which I write,
To honor her; even though she is gone from our sight.

The imprint she left on each of our hearts,
Has lasted to this day, in spite of her depart.

She was shy in front of people and hated to speak,
If it was a large group, you would hardly hear a peep.
But one on one she would love to talk,
And listen to stories of your daily walk.
She was always close through the telephone,
It was one way that the family interest was shown,
Asking about the children and all the family needs
Was her way of loving and planting caring seeds.

She would be ready to tell how to make potato salad or stew,
Or what flower would be best in front of a shrub or two.
So many things stored only in her head,
We tried to write them down as each thing was said.

She was not a bold person or one of great fame,
But she touched so many lives that she was known just the same.

She quietly went about doing good
Never feeling like she had done all she should.

She often felt inadequate and thought others did things best,
and never really comprehended the success of HER quest.

We wanted her to see she had fruit that would remain,
Now, Jesus can tell her of all she has gained.
Thank you, Mother, for the consistency of your life and the love you have shown, for my “Moment in Time”.

A Tribute to My Mother ~ The Decorator

I inherited a priceless gift from my mother… her skill in decorating.
At an early age, creating homes for my Muffy Dolls was a passion.  I would find different accessories around the house and in my mind, I had
created a mansion.
Eventually, I advanced, somewhere around the age of 7 or 8,  to actually build my own home out of discarded appliance boxes.  Using a dull
knife, I would make windows with shutters, arched doors and a peaked roof.  Soon I advanced to painting the flimsy structure and even add
fabric to creating make-shift curtains.
Then it hit me!  I could prop the house on top of our wagon, put a rope on the wagon to the back of the tricycle and I had my first mobile
home!  Little did I know I would eventually live in an actual size mobile home and raise seven children!
The joy I have had decorating our dream house is over the top… but I learned it from my mother.
My mother loved creating beauty, and my dad delighted in her creations.  Daddy was a ‘man’s man’ yet he slept in her lace covered canopy bed.
He loved to dwell in the colorful, flower-filled environment filled with love and my mother.

I inherited a priceless gift from my mother… her skill in decorating.
At an early age, creating homes for my Muffy Dolls was a passion.  I would find different accessories around the house and in my mind, I had
created a mansion.
Eventually, I advanced, somewhere around the age of 7 or 8,  to actually build my own home out of discarded appliance boxes.  Using a dull
knife, I would make windows with shutters, arched doors and a peaked roof.  Soon I advanced to painting the flimsy structure and even add
fabric to creating make-shift curtains.
Then it hit me!  I could prop the house on top of our wagon, put a rope on the wagon to the back of the tricycle and I had my first mobile
home!  Little did I know I would eventually live in an actual size mobile home and raise seven children!
My mother loved creating beauty, and my dad delighted in her creations.  Daddy was a ‘man’s man’ yet he slept in her lace covered canopy bed.
He loved to dwell in the colorful, flower-filled environment filled with love and my mother.

A Tribute to My Mother on Mother’s Day… A 7 Day Series

Mother’s day is here.

Some of you are scurrying to get just the right card, just the right flower and plan just the right dinner.

Others may be waiting for the surprise that Mother’s Day can bring.

I know of new mothers who will be celebrating their very first Mother’s Day with joy and anticipation.

Others of you feel the pain that the role of a Mother can bring… looking for the time, when it will be “…all better!”

And for some, this will be the first Mother’s Day without your Mother.

The isles of cards, signs, overabundance of flowers ready to be purchased are a painful reminder.

You feel hollow inside and so much like an orphan without purpose.

I miss my mother, I miss buying things for her, I miss the person that loved me no matter what… always.

Thank you, Mother, for who you were and what you instilled in my life.

I honor you, and rise up and call you blessed.


All of the pictures are from our home growing up in the West Hill of Portland Oregon.

Thanks for the memories, Mother, for this “Moment In Time”