Two particularly fond memories from past mother's days.
We went to a mini-mega-church in South Bend growing up. The church also broadcasted on tv and radio live every Sunday morning. Tradition held that every mother's day the youngest mother, oldest mother and mother with the most children would receive special recognition and a present.
One mother's day the pastor called for the youngest mother.....mothers under the age of 20....only 3 remained standing. We have 20, and 18! and finally the third??? 13! Pastor was blush. God help her he said tapping the pulpit. Priceless!
The next year, in order to prevent another embarrassing moment, the pastor asked for the youngest MARRIED mother. This time through elimination one was left standing.....how old are you dear? "15!" and married.......... You never know what you'll get in a church of 3,500.
Another mother's day we went shrooming at my mom's old farmstead.....with my mom. It had rained alot the previous days leading up to the hunt. We drove the pickup. I can't remember who it was that got the truck stuck knee-deep in mud down the old lane to the woods. Had to have been my brother. It was a long walk for help-I remember that.
I remember my great grandmother-she was 98(?) when she passed away. She was a strong, strong woman-part of the Christian Women's Temperance Society and she and her three sisters were the backbone of the local Methodist Church. Saint is probably not too far off. I remember my grandmother, who others have called a saint (partly for putting up with gramps), she was the strength of her family and church and couldn't help but love anyone she met. And now I'm hearing the "saint" word being used for my mom-probably for putting up with my dad-she continues to be the strength of our family, taking on far more responsibility for her own family and ours than she should have to shoulder. And finally my wife, and mother to our children, will likely be called a saint one day too for putting up with me.
Happy Mother's Day........God bless you for putting up with us kids and husbands.
3 comments:
My dad's mom died when he was 5. He hated Mother's Day, but not because it reminded him of his lost mother. Rather, in church they handed out a carnation to every child, red (I think) unless your mother had passed, in which case you got white. And Dad was always the only child with a white carnation. He felt he got on all right with his father and grandmother caring for him, and didn't like having to explain the situation with his mother to everybody every year.
geesh, that sounds like cruel and unusual punishment! Your poor dad!
Years ago all the women folk at our church got flowers at our church--one year the intern botched it by saying that flowers were for (all females)everyone from little girls to big ladies. Perhaps Pastors could review what to and not to say on Mother's Day. I guess there is a learning curve involved.
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