Thursday, March 25, 2010

Walking on Sunshine

Did you ever have your baby shoes dipped in gold or brass? A few of my siblings and I did back when it was in vogue. I always found it oddly fascinating. Wonder how my Mother would feel about being dipped in gold? Cause she's the stuff angel's wings are made from. Now, of course she's not perfect, the lovely little broad forbid me to get a perm back in 1980 something. Howbeit, she brushed up enough side ponies for me that I can forgive those few minor grievances and still crown her angel-esque with a sash of sainthood.

Mom is known in the local Target, as in she has friends. Friends that know I'm Lisa's daughter and ask about my mom. Mama knows their names, their children's names, their worries and woes and their happy moments. The lady could make friends down at the ant farm. She loves some people, probably why she has so many babies. In honesty, I find her gregarious nature a little annoying at times. I've wanted to plead, "Must we be political, can't we just buy our toilet paper and go?" I once quipped to one of our target friends, "Oh, you know Mom always the talker." The lady replied, "Everyone in this store knows your mom, she's so friendly and easy to talk to." That remark struck me, as to what a testimony it was to who my Mom is.

Mom frequents the local nursing home where my Granjanie is a resident. She visits often and has adopted many of the other residents. One resident, Bill Hastings, is a town celebrity. He has hydrocephalus, yet his memory classifies him as a savant. Give him a name and he can spout out their phone number, a sports team and he'll tell you the entirety of their stats. Pretty sure the man has the phone book memorized, literally.

The past two years, Bill has joined us for Christmas. He calls my mother tells her what time he wants to come, what he wants for dinner and when he wants to go home. Mom willingly complies. Hamburgers, mashed potatoes, vanilla ice cream and diet coke are bound to show up on the menu, even if we're eating seafood or breakfast. Bill's mother was my mom's elementary teacher and she's never forgotten her kindness.

Christmas night the phone rang, it was Bill calling to tell my mom, "Tell Da Kids, Three Hundred, Sixty-Four more days we do it again." I hear those words whenever it's the twenty-fifth of the month.

When I think of Bill and the countdown to Christmas, I think of my Mom and her genuine, heartfelt friendship and interest in others. She leaves some pretty big shoes to fill, yet I need to do better at following in those footsteps. Cause I'm about 90 % positive they're lined in gold.

A word aptly spoken is like apples of gold in settings of silver-Proverbs 25:11
A good name is more desirable than great riches; to be esteemed is better than silver or gold-Proverbs 22:1

1 comment:

  1. Well, now I'm all misty.

    What a tribute to your sweet Mama. I only hope that my children think on me this way when they're grown!! You are a blessing to her as well, sweet girl.


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