Happy Birthday, Mom

My mother has always been one of the most Christian, caring, sweetest and generous women that I know. And I am pretty confident in saying that other people that know her would say the same thing.

While growing up, she rarely raised her voice to/at us, she never cussed (at all), never argued, and never spoke badly of anyone. She didn’t drink or smoke. She always told us, “If you can’t say anything nice, then don’t say anything at all” and “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.”

From her, I learned the importance of a sweet heart, a caring spirit, and a giving attitude. She taught me how to find a silver lining in any situation and she taught me the lesson of “making memories” with my children. She knew the importance of enjoying life, one day at a time, and tried to instill that into my brothers and me, as well.

As an adult, whenever I was torn between different things to do or I was undecided in decisions, she would always ask me, “Will (this) really matter in 10 years?” With the answer to that one question, I could always make my decision on what I needed to do and how to handle it.

We were in church every Sunday. We wore our Sunday best and often heard, “God gave us seven days, the least we can do is give Him one hour and wear our best clothes while doing so!” My mother always made sure I had money in my little purse so I could drop it in the collection plate; thus, teaching me the importance of tithing.

One of my fondest memories of growing up is my mom sitting on the side of my bed, scratching my back and singing me to sleep at night. Each night I would fall asleep to songs of “The Old Rugged Cross,” “Amazing Grace” and “How Great Thou Art.”

My mom was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s about 11 years ago. This disease has taken my once healthy and active mother and replaced her with someone who doesn’t even recognize me. She still remembers me though; at night, in her dreams, she still talks to me and about me. During the daytime, she still sees me in her mind and memories, and talks to me. It breaks my heart to hear her talking/calling out to me but yet, it fills my heart with love, for I know she has not truly forgotten me. I am still in her heart and soul.
Even though she doesn’t recognize me anymore, as her daughter, there is a slight recognition in her eyes, sometimes. On good days I can still get a smile and a very sweet, and gentle, “I love you!” She doesn’t know who I am or why she loves me; but she does know she loves me! And that’s enough for me!

There was a poem I read once that said, “Please remember the real me - when I cannot remember you.”
I do Mom! I remember everything!

Happy Birthday!

I love you and I am so glad God picked you to be my mother!!!!