Missing Mom today. Actually most days.

I find myself wanting to call and share my life with her. You know, just chit chat about the day. That I worked another accident as a police volunteer, where the cars were all smashed up. That I finally bought that special car. That I worked on the deck (again). That I played my violin at church. That I ran a 10K. That Sandy The Little White Dog ate her breakfast for a change. You know, important stuff.

Our lives are enriched when we share them with family. Good times. Hard times. Bad times. Sharing brings both perspective and peace.

The voice of a Mother, even from far away, brings us back to those days. When the toy trucks and cars roll in the sandbox. When freshly mixed Kool-Aid slakes your thirst. When the hot dog casserole nourishes an empty tummy, even with those green beans covered with mushroom soup. When an Arby’s jamocha shake is a reward for withstanding yet another violin lesson way over in west Knoxville.

The voice of a Mother sometimes speaks truth that you don’t want to hear. In college to earn my engineering degree, I found myself believing my musical skills and my jazz band were poised for greatness. Mom dropped what she was doing, drove three hours to meet me for dinner, and gently shared her guidance. She was right. I’m an engineer, not a jazz band musician ready to blow out of town and hit the road with my friends in a clapped out Chevy van. It was hard to hear, hard to accept, and yet without that voice my office wall wouldn’t have a picture of me graduating from Vandy. Or a 41-year career creating new and better gizmos.

I think Mom probably grew tired over the years. Not tired of listening to me, but just tired. Tired from sharing her guiding principles, her evaluation, her advice over my advancing years. As I think back to our many conversations, I realize that the energy she gave to build me up all these years most likely depleted her own reserves of emotional strength. She continued to be Mom until the very end, but at times, I wondered who she was, in those last days. Doubtless her many physical ailments and continual pain challenged her spirit. I sensed that she was different, that she was not now who she once was. It was hard for both of us.

So today, my first Mother’s Day without her, I feel sadness. I can’t let it show, of course. Got to be strong. I’ll be okay. I can do this. Right.

If you’ll permit, let me encourage you to reach out today. Let Mom know, even if she’s far away, that you treasure her. That you recognize the sacrifices of a single Mom who worked without rest for years to put food on the table and two kids through high school and college. That you welcome her advice on life. Listen to it, even if you disagree. Thank her for it.

And, most of all, if your Mom is in the winter of life, be strong for her. Be accepting of her frailties. Be ready to step in, when asked. Know that she is still in charge, and navigate those tough times when you have to be her guide. Be the child she welcomed into the world so many years ago, and share that radiant love with each other.

May God bless you, Mom, as you live in His light and rejoice every day with Him. Thank you for giving me life and love.