My Mom is truly one of Gods most beautiful flowers. Memories of Mom Written by Jeffrey ‘Todd’ Channell Some weeks ago my dad asked me if I felt up to the task of speaking a few words on this sad day. I was honored to to tell him yes and I had in my mind a certainty that I could easily find the words and share the memories that I have of Mom. I have found, as I struggled to distill my thoughts over the days and weeks that followed, that the idea that I could represent in so few moments, a life so full of precious and beautiful memories was an impossible task. The constraints of time and the inadequacy of my talents will present, I fear, only a dim reflection of even a single facet of the jewel that was my mother. All of those who knew her are well aware of her love of flowers and growing things. Each place that she lived, each home and yard, was adorned with the growing things that she so enjoyed. Inside the house grew ivies and violets, aloes and even cactus. In the yard there were roses, daffodils, irises, gladiolas, and marigolds as well as a host of other flowers and plants. All were carefully tended each season to produce a delightful spectacle of scent and color. A visit to mom was also an excursion into a beautiful and peaceful place. Mom tended to her family and friends in the same manner that she tended her flowers, giving always the needful things. She planted us in the firm soil of a stable and structured home, nourishing us with the carefully measured and properly administered essentials of life. She gave not only physical sustenance, but ensured that each of us received the proper exposure to the sunlight of God’s love and her love so that we would grow strongly and evenly. She watered us, often with her tears, encouraging us to put down deep roots. Mom wasn’t shy about a little judicious pruning now and then when the need arose. She knew that even though it might be painful for us, getting rid of unruly or unhealthy habits was necessary for good growth. Because of these actions all of us who fell under her care had the opportunity to grow and bloom. Mom not only tended us like flowers, she grew among us like a beautiful and vibrant plant. Her life twined through all of our lives, turning and curling around us like the vines of the Wisteria that she so enjoyed and cared for. Her care for us thickening and strengthening through the years, growing ever more sturdy and beautiful. Her loving words and deeds, like the purple blossoms that grace the vine, added an abiding beauty to all of our lives. Alas, her life and her deeds, like the Wisteria blossoms, have enjoyed their season and faded and finally, at 9:01 pm this last Wednesday, she went from us, transplanted as it were, from this earthly garden to an eternal blooming garden in the presence of the Lord. While she is gone from us and we grieve, we will always have the memory of her blossoming in our lives. Mom filled her life with concrete expressions of her love for us. She did not just speak of cleanliness and order, but kept her home clean and neat. Dad was remembering just the other day, how when we were living on the farm, she would sweep and mop the house every day, even with 5 little brats running around. Our home was never treated like a museum though, we lived and played and made many a mess, that is for sure, but always by the end of the day the house was neat and clean again. I was proud to have friends in our house because it was so nice. As we children grew up and left the home to make homes of our own, we carried with us the skills we learned from her. Her example carries on not just with her children, but with her grandchildren as well. As mom grew older and was able to do less about the house, she hired some help from time to time to do the cleaning, but after each visit by the cleaners, she could be found double checking and putting the final touches on their work to have things “just so”. For all of that, when the grandchildren and great grandchildren would visit, she was never distressed at the messes they would make. She wanted the young ones to feel welcome in her home. There was a store of toys, things she had kept from our childhood years, things that we had loved to play with but had outgrown and forgotten. These things she had packed away and kept. When the grandchildren came along they re-appeared to be loved and played with by a new generation. How wonderful it was to watch our children play with a suddenly remembered toy form our own past. A memory stacked on a memory. Mom was a good cook, I not only have the memories of her cooking, but several of her recipes are in full use by our families still. Tomato rice, that beautiful red dish that no one I have ever met outside of our family has heard of. There was Moist and sweet fruit cocktail cake, spaghetti with ground sausage that my daughter fell in love with as a teenager and now makes for her children. Moms chili…need I say more. Mom took produce from the garden and canned and processed countless jars of healthy and delicious fruits and vegetables. Around six weeks ago I was talking with mom about food and I remembered a homemade barbeque sauce she used to make. I remarked on it to her and even though bed ridden she directed me to a very old cook book in the kitchen and when I brought it to her she located the recipe. Another memory I can enjoy in reality. I remember that mom was always very polite and generous to my friends. We often had friends at our home and I was so pleased that she treated them with respect; she made the effort to get to know them and opened her home to them. There was one friend I had in high school who was on the football team with me. He lived outside Charlestown and his parents couldn’t get him to games and practices, so about 3 or 4 days a week he stayed with us. Mom fed him, washed his clothes and his uniforms, and he rode back and forth with us. From time to time he even got assigned chores. I have always remembered how she made him feel at home in our home. Mom was, like the good wife in Proverbs, always busy trying to add value to our home. She sold clothing, home decorations and homemade crafts. From time to time she worked in retail stores. In later years she made quilts as well. She was a skilled seamstress, although she would say she wasn’t a seamstress she just knew how to sew. I watched her make wedding dresses for my sister, my bride, and then my daughter. She spent hour after hour laboring to make those dresses to the designs that each girl wanted. They were such beautiful work and made so very many happy memories. She sewed prom dresses and repaired who knows how many items over the years. Any alteration; from cutting off last year’s jeans to make summer shorts, to hemming or even resizing clothing that her cooking had rendered a little too tight, she could do it all. When she started making the quilts she moved to a whole new level of memory making. I would not be surprised if, last night, many of her children and grandchildren slept under a quilt sewn by mom; I know that I did. She also had a quilting circle at her church in Elkins that is still active. Her teaching others to make quilts has given memories to people she may never have met. Mom had a lifelong love of learning. Anyone who stepped into her house/library could see that. She got married young and never graduated high school and that always bothered her. After she had raised all of us, she went back and got her GED. She was around 40 when she did that. Many people would have said that if they got along without it that long that it wasn’t important, but not mom, she felt it needed to be finished and she did it. It was a lesson to her grown children not to give up on a goal, even if it takes a lifetime. All these acts and deeds and lessons in life, all the meals and dresses and quilts, all the words of encouragement and admonishment, the prayers and the praise, they twine and curl through our lives. They weave a pattern for us; they make their own living quilt full of beauty and grace. Like the quilts mom made, they warm us and please us. Like the flowers she tended they leave us with the lingering perfume of her sweetness. Long after the blossom has faded and fallen away, we remember the beauty of a life well lived. Mom will be missed.
Posted on: Tue, 05 Aug 2014 16:47:50 +0000
Trending Topics
Recently Viewed Topics
© 2015