In the Middle

Over Mother's Day weekend, I was in New Jersey visiting our daughter, the almost-nun sister.  I debated not going because, just a few days before I left, Mom went to the hospital with a blood clot in her calf.  They caught it early, and within a few days she was doing well, so I got on the plane.

My husband and father took great care of Mom while I was gone.  This eased my mind.  (My husband also, unbeknown to me, wrote a post for my blog while I was away.  If you missed it, click here.  It's a real winner.)

I thought of Mom often while I was gone.  Certain images/activities brought her to mind.

Like a polished tree trunk that is used to display the Bible.  Mom loves Scripture and, as a teen, I remember seeing her read the Bible.

It was a wonderful, unspoken witness.  The Book was often left open, like this one.    

Braiding my daughter's hair is an activity that brings Mom to mind, because she used to braid mine.

I would get pigtails.

For my own daughter, I french braid.  She's gracious and allows me this luxury, because she knows I love to play with her glorious auburn/golden/red hair.

That and the fact that, when she finally dons her veil, she's going to have her hair chopped short.   AWWWW! 

                      

I thought of my Mom when I saw this baby calf and its family.

It was the sweetest thing.  Small and a bit wobbly, it stayed close to its momma.

The repetition of life came to mind.  My tiny Mom was in Florida with 90 years under her sling.  I was in NJ with my own girl, who was now grown up.

Mommas and babies keep life going.

I thought of my Mom when we baked cookies for the Salesians Sisters.  She made rolled-out sugar cookies every Christmas, a tradition I've continued.

Whenever I'm working with a rolling pin, I think of my Mom.

As we were touring the retreat center, there was a display board with pictures of our daughter teaching a First Communion class.  She is an exceptional teacher.  (Her favorite pupils are high-school students, which tells you something right there.)

Teaching is one gift she shares with my Mom, (who was an English teacher.)  I took pictures of the pictures, because they warmed my heart.    

The final picture that brought my Mom to mind was this one...

Our daughter with her mom...and a statue of Mary behind us.

You don't have to be Catholic to appreciate the heart of Mary, the mother of Jesus.  She was an unwed teenage mom, who celebrated the joys and endured the heartaches that all moms experience.

And some agonies we will never experience. 

I'm blessed to be one of the few people I know my age whose mother is still living.  With my children on one end and my parents on the other, I'm the sweet cream in the middle of the Oreo.

I am so grateful to have been given the full life that my mom afforded me, and so proud to be watching my daughter pursue her own journey.

To my mom, I'm glad God gave me to you, instead of the family down the street.   I would have missed you.