A Legacy of Love

Of all my family members, I’m most like my mother. To some women, that might be a horrifying realization. Mama died of cancer years ago, just before my 18th birthday, the day of my English final in my first semester of college. While I had the wonderful blessing of knowing Mama in my childhood, I have always missed not knowing more about her in my adult life. I had a strong desire to reminisce and learn more about her this week, so I called my Uncle Bobby, her 80-year-old brother and sole survivor of the family she grew up in.

With three brothers and two sisters, three of us most favor my mother in looks with brown hair and brown eyes. (In contrast, my two sisters and oldest brother were blue-eyed, sandy blondes). On occasion, my aunts, uncles, or my siblings have told me I look so much like Mama or I remind them of her. When asked “in what way,” they might say its looks -- my coloring, temperament or wit.

While these comparisons always made me feel good, I always wondered what she was really like outside of being my mom. She took care of our family and home -- often paying the bills, sewing school clothes for us girls; taking us to church; attending family get-togethers, and, on occasion, playing Bridge with my aunts – which, when I think about it now, was actually quite a lot. My Dad worked one and often two jobs to make ends meet, and we all worked summers, as we got older, to earn spending money or pay for college. She and Daddy instilled in all of us a desire to make good grades and go to college, and overall, modeled an ideal childhood for us kids.

But I always wondered how she got through the storms in her life? And what were those storms? I don’t know the answer to what she went through, but somehow I already know the how, having experienced many storms in my own life. She had a strong faith in Jesus and I knew this as a child. She led us in prayers at bedtime and meals, and took us to Sunday School and church, (even after my Dad quit going and took to the links on Sundays). One of my last memories was of Mama sitting on the couch reading the Bible with our church minister. This is often a visual reminder that God shows me in quiet moments.

Mama modeled her faith every day in how she lived and treated others, and in those everyday tasks. I want to be more like her. Her love legacy was a strong one – not only for myself, but for the impact she has had on our entire family long after her death. Though we all married and scattered around the country, we are closer today than ever, and we never forget to tell each other “I love you” at the end of our conversation. When I really think about it, I see Mama every day in my daughter, sisters and brothers, and realize that I have always known the most important thing about her through them. And that’s her love from God.

Learning to Trust

While living in Colorado, my daughter Amanda, who was then in the 5th grade, dropped a bombshell on me. Her father and I had divorced and both remarried. She asked me if she could go live with her dad for “just a year” and go to school in Birmingham with her stepsisters, who were both near her age. She normally spent an average of six to eight weeks in the summer with her “other” family. I told her definitely not for selfish reasons.
I couldn’t stand the thought of her being away from me that long. It was so unfair that I should have to make the sacrifice, especially since “they” would have a family of four and she was my only child. Amanda always wanted brothers and sisters and, being from a large family myself, I could relate. But most of all, I was scared to death that she wouldn’t want to come back after the year ended. She dropped the subject, knowing it upset me.
However, the next year she asked again. She was getting ready to move up to the 7th grade in a new school. Once again, I struggled with it, but God was working on me to trust that it would be okay. If I kept putting it off, I knew she’d keep asking. She begged and promised that it would only be for one year and she would come home for Christmas, call, and write in between. I finally relented.
Although there were times it was extremely hard, my job kept me busy, and my new husband Mark enjoyed having more of my time for him. Amanda and I kept in touch constantly during the year. In May, she came back and resumed life with us as though she’d never been gone. I learned to trust, and she kept her promise, and thanks to God, we all survived the year.