One More Blog

I know I had vowed to never blog again but there is just so much I have to say. Maybe the "anonymous" person who posted the rude post won't do it again and I can continue. I especially hope Corby reads the story below.

The story I am pasting in here was written by Christy Whitson (from Corbin, KY) about her mom and I really liked it and thought you might too. It pretty well sums up a lot of stuff.

A Lucky Girl

I was a lucky girl who had the prettiest Mom around, especially when we talked her into wearing lipstick. Mom also just happened to be the best bluegill fisherman in the Tri-County.

Having grown up in the mountains of West Virginia with 12 brothers and sisters, my mom understood one main and enduring message: how to have fun. Finding herself in Kentucky with a husband who worked long hours to keep the household going, and four little girls who looked just like her, my mom set about to reveal to us a joyful life of love and adventure. To achieve this, all she had to do is be herself. Through being herself, she showed us a life of adventure was not about climbing Mount Everest or exploring the jungles of the Congo. Instead, it was about the contentment felt when your last thought at night is wishing it were already morning, and your first thought at morning’s light is how giddy you are that the day is starting.

It was not unusual for our summer day to start out with Mom calling out to us to “Get up girls...come and look what I found!” We would jump up with sleepy eyes and trudge through the house to seek her voice since we knew this tone meant she had found something really exciting. We would finally locate Mom in the backyard, with a green snake wrapped around her fingers and wrist while telling us to hurry to get a jar or empty coffee can to put the snake in. We would then proceed to play with the snake for about 24 hours, while Mom told us about its habits and how it would not hurt anyone. She explained that even this little snake had a “job” which God gave it, and how we should not be afraid of, only cautious of, snakes. Another time, Mom brought home an entire “family” of baby possums, explaining that their mother was dead in the road and that they needed a little help. Looking back on it, I am sure Mom knew the baby possums would die soon, but she just wanted us to see them.

She wanted us to know about life and its twists and turns, its ups and downs. She wanted us to learn about compassion. When a thunderstorm would break out, Mom would say “Let’s go sit out on the front porch and watch it storm!” There we would all be, with our legs dangling from our large porch swing, watching the lightening, smelling the air, hearing the rumble of the retreating thunder. Mom told us once again, do not be afraid. “Always take shelter but don’t fear nature, because God is always with us, and he wants us to enjoy the world while we are in it.” She then went on to point out to us that the colorful rainbow that often formed after the storm was God telling us that “everything is OK.”

Mom was an excellent bowler, golfer, square dancer, swimmer ... you name it, Mom mastered it, even while we tagged along. I remember watching her so many times, as she released her spinball at the bowling alley, clapped while she square danced, or bounced her shoulders as she as she laughed. I wished I could be her or be just like her. She just absolutely made the best out of every day, no matter what. She and her best friend Betty were well known for setting off to fish at their various “secret” fishing places. Once they both found out that they could catch a lot of fish in a particular place, we would have fresh fried fish at least once a week. It was usual to come home from school and converse with Mom as she would clean and fillet the fish she and Betty had caught that day. They would both plan ahead of time for their next fishing trip, both of them gathering nightcrawlers from under rocks in the yard.

Mom worked to remain active in the community through things like being a Cub Scout leader. She wanted us to follow her example by things, like keeping the neighborhood cheered up. My sisters and I usually had a gregarious nature, so she felt we should share it. One year in particular, this was illustrated by the fact that she somehow came up with plastic Beatle wigs and a fake guitar for my sister Karen, and had us parade through our neighborhood, performing at each stop. We must have sang “I Wanna Hold Your Hand,” and “She Loves You Yeah Yeah Yeah...” hundreds of times before it was all over. As we began to outgrow our plastic Beetle wigs, our performances floundered, much to the dismay of my mother, who I am sure wished she could have found a way to extend these “glory” days, the purpose of which were to make the neighbors laugh, or at least bring a smile to their faces.

So many times Mom would load us up into our used Volkswagen van, usually with a few of our neighborhood friends crowding in, and off we would go. Well ... we would “go” once a few of us got out to push the van when it would not start in the regular way. Here we would go, down the street, with Mom trying to “clutch it” to force the van motor to start after we gained enough speed to do so. We would then jump in, quickly slide the door shut, and laugh with Mom as she proclaimed, “Hold on, here we go!”

These were such bright days as we laughed and sang while rolling to our destination.You see, my mother wanted us to be happy in everyday life. She wanted us to feel the excitement of watching a hummingbird feed, or the satisfaction of catching a fish and then having it for supper. She wanted us to taste the biscuits we just helped her roll and cut out. She wanted us to smell the freshness of the rain and to go cheer up the elderly neighbor on the corner. She wanted us to care about others but not be afraid of anything. She lived this and she breathed this. She pushed on and kept on, keeping us interested and secure in our knowledge that God controls everything and there is nothing wrong with us having joy on this earth he created.

So when I look at my mother I do not see the hints of gray in her hair or her slower ways that are the cadence of the march of time. Instead, I see and hear the beautiful and adventuresome woman who sang out from the driver’s seat of our Volkswagen van, “Hold on, here we go!!...” Indeed, there we have gone, mama, ... holding on, while sometimes laughing and sometimes crying, but always with the sun glimmering through the windows as we go bouncing across the pavement on our way through life ... feeling the smoothness of the ride and always the bumps, but surely knowing that things will be great once we get there. Happy Mothers Day, Mom. God bless you always. We all love you.