Morning to all my graybeard friends,
Just sitting in my office drinking my morning cup & reflecting on Mother's Day yesterday. My mother was born in 1912 about 50 miles from where I'm sitting now. She literally went from the horse & buggy days to the moon.
In her younger years she sacrificed to make sure all her siblings received a education. She actually finished high school diploma when she was 51. While lacking the diploma she was the most literate person I knew. She read, & learned her whole life. She was a homemaker & managed the offices for my dads contracting business.
After daddy died, mother went to work at Honneywell in the aero-space division. She & her coworkers made the gyro that was in the guidance system in the ship that landed on the moon.
I remember when I was a child the hunting & fishing urge was so strong I wanted to be outdoors all the time. Dad was always busy working, but mother would take me to the river and run the boat so I could fish. Later as I grew I began to operate the outboard but mother was still there with a gallon of milk tied to the gunnel hanging in the water to keep cool and a basket lunch. What sweet memories of a simpler time and a family that loved me.
Later when God called me & my family west to do missions work, mother followed and even to Alaska. The Indian tribe we lived with in southeast Alaska loved her & gave her a special place of honor as their pastors mother.
The last trip I made with her on a fishing boat was the night she broke her hip. I went by to pick her up for Sunday evening service & found her on the floor of her apartment. She had fallen and could not get up. Ems packaged her and together we made the trip to town & hospital through a stormy night on one of the native fishing vessels.
Mother was never quite the same, but lived another 10 years in the Alaska pioneer home. I often asked her if she ever dreamed she would end up a sourdough in Alaska. And of course she did not. Her father was always a traveler never staying long in one place. So mother knew what it was like to move around as a child. My father was a homebody being satisfied to live just across the bay from where he grew up. I guess I inherited my grandfathers genes and alway had a wanderlust burning inside. To mother being with those she loved was more important than the security of living in one place. So she followed me around.
She went to be with her Lord about 5 years ago. I brought her home and she rests beside my father. There are many things I don't know, but one thing I do know is my mother loved me and is waiting for me on the other shore, across the gulf called death.
Happy Mothers Day Mom.
