As a kid one of my favorite days of the week was Sundays. In fact, I have loved Sundays since before I can even remember. Seriously. Recently, my dad sent me a letter he wrote to me when I was 2 years old, and in it he wrote about how almost every night I would ask when Sunday was coming. Sunday was the best day.
Who doesn’t love the weekends, right? Extra sleep, two days to sleep in, right? Wrong! Weekends were my favorite because of what my family, and my extended family, has done every single Sunday for decades. Sunday was church day.
Church to me was my second home. I grew up in a church that even before I could talk people knew my name and loved me immensely. The older women at the church always hugged me hello and the grandpas at church always greeted me with a joke or a high five. I was loved deeply, and widely. But, that wasn’t the greatest reason I loved going. Yes, I felt like a rock-star because of how much affection I was given, but my greatest memories from church on Sundays was watching the action behind the scenes and watching who made that action happen. That person just happened to be my mother.
My momma was the “Music ministries director” which is a fancy label for the Lady-who-made-stuff-fall-into-place-and-sound-good. But in my eyes she ran the show. No, she didn’t stand up there and preach sermons, my favorite goofy old Pastor Duke did that, she sat on the piano bench and played, and she sat there and sang. Oh, did she sing. She had (and still has) this posture when she plays the piano where her chin is lifted and her eyes twinkle, and she has never, ever, sang a song without a huge smile on her face. If eyes could smile, hers were shining.
My mom has a talent with music. That’s an understatement. She toured the world with a singing group after college, before marrying my daddy, and before that majored musically at Crane School of Music. I didn’t even know what that meant as a little kid, but it didn’t matter. She was incredible. I know every little girl thinks her mother is beautiful, but I know my momma outshined them all, especially when she sat behind that piano on Sunday mornings.
One of my favorite memories as a kid is one of me countlessly begging my mom at home to play “The Spinning Song” for me so that I could dance to it. Sometimes my brother would join me and we would spin around the room while her fingers flew across the keys. Other times I would sit next to her and follow each movement she made. Another fantastic memory and one I have enjoyed up until recently moving to Colorado, is of her playing the piano as I fell asleep. It was not uncommon for her to finish hugging us goodnight and then to sneak downstairs to the basement to practice old songs, or to practice music for Sunday mornings. It was always a treat for me because the piano was always audible from my room, and the music would waft up the air vents and lull me to sleep. Sometimes, when she wanted to really relax, she would play part of Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata, one of my favorite piano pieces of all time. That’s something I’ve really missed since moving here; falling asleep to her on the piano.
The awesome thing is my adoration for my mom as a kid has not faded. She still shines. I am thankful that she still plays the piano on Sundays too. She’s not in charge anymore, and we are at a different church, but she has not stopped playing. My family typically sits in the same row at church, just behind the piano so that when she does play, we have a good view. My little brother Steele has always adored his momma as well, and often times when she plays, he’ll lean over to me or one of us and say “Isn’t she just beautiful?” We have always agreed. My mother possesses some sort of beauty and grace when she plays, and it’s just captivating.
My mom has always been interested in me. I’m not sure everyone can say that about their mothers. My mom has always wanted to know what my day has been like, how school was, how my relationships were going, and that didn’t strike me as unusual. Since being in high school ministry and seeing the different mother-daughter dynamics, though, I realize how uncommon that actually is. I’ve spent many nights up late with her in my room, or cuddled up on the couch with her, talking about all sorts of stuff. A lot of daughters don’t have that with their mothers. I can’t imagine where I would be without the wisdom that she has poured into me, and I know my family would not have survived without her. She has been the support for my dad and for me when he and I struggled to get along, she’s balanced us all out in such a graceful way. I am so thankful for all of this, but it has left me with one worry. How am I going to be as great a mother to my children as she has been to me? I know after the four hundredth game of mermaid in the pool as a young mom, she probably wanted to drown me, even if just for a few seconds, but she didn’t. I have no memory of her ever seeming to not want to play with me. At bedtime, we would play Bethany Bunny, where all my stuffed animals (including Bethany, the bunny) would come alive. I always thought my mom was so great at playing pretend with me! When she drove across the country with me to move me into my home here in Colorado, she confessed to me that she hated Bethany Bunny, but loved me enough to play it with me almost every single night. That is dedication.
I’m not sure I’ll have that kind of patience with my kids, but I also know that my mom set an example for me all those years ago, even if I didn’t realize it, and I hope to be able to follow in her footsteps and be just as caring and patient as she has been with me.
I remember one night I came home from something and I was in such a bad grumpy mood. I had come in the door and been so snappy and rude to her and she had just followed me to my room and taken my hands and started to pray. The moment she started to pray I was instantly sorry for how I’d spoken to her and so thankful for her that I started to cry. After finishing her prayer for me she hugged me tight and told me how she loved me.
Oh, how many times she has told me she loves me. The amount of times, even in high school, I’d come home from a bad day of school to find she had made my bed and folded my laundry for me, just because she knew how nice it felt to come home to a clean room, the amount of times she cooked me dinner even though I was totally able to do it myself, the amount of times my momma has prayed for me, even when I didn’t ask for it, has changed my life. This woman is a perfect reflection of what grace is. She has poured her entire life into me and my siblings even when I have been downright nasty to live with. When I was going through a really hard time in my life, she crawled into bed with me and reminded me that David screwed up big time, and God still used him. She reminded me that Job lost everything he owned and loved, and still kept his eyes on God, and God blessed him. She told me that I could lose everything I owned to, but that I needed to decide who I was going to keep my eyes on. That day she gave me some of the greatest advice a person could give. Trials will come, and blessings too, but she reminded me that no matter the situation, that I needed to keep my faith in God. That is the greatest thing a parent could teach their child.
My mom is far above average, she is smart, funny, musically brilliant, and she is grace. She has endured pain, loss, hardship, heartache, and she has laughed until she’s cried, she has raised four awesome kids, she has loved and cared for my dad and she has done it all joyfully. I pray often that I can be as wonderful a woman as my beautiful mother.
I love you, Mom.
Who doesn’t love the weekends, right? Extra sleep, two days to sleep in, right? Wrong! Weekends were my favorite because of what my family, and my extended family, has done every single Sunday for decades. Sunday was church day.
Church to me was my second home. I grew up in a church that even before I could talk people knew my name and loved me immensely. The older women at the church always hugged me hello and the grandpas at church always greeted me with a joke or a high five. I was loved deeply, and widely. But, that wasn’t the greatest reason I loved going. Yes, I felt like a rock-star because of how much affection I was given, but my greatest memories from church on Sundays was watching the action behind the scenes and watching who made that action happen. That person just happened to be my mother.
My momma was the “Music ministries director” which is a fancy label for the Lady-who-made-stuff-fall-into-place-and-sound-good. But in my eyes she ran the show. No, she didn’t stand up there and preach sermons, my favorite goofy old Pastor Duke did that, she sat on the piano bench and played, and she sat there and sang. Oh, did she sing. She had (and still has) this posture when she plays the piano where her chin is lifted and her eyes twinkle, and she has never, ever, sang a song without a huge smile on her face. If eyes could smile, hers were shining.
My mom has a talent with music. That’s an understatement. She toured the world with a singing group after college, before marrying my daddy, and before that majored musically at Crane School of Music. I didn’t even know what that meant as a little kid, but it didn’t matter. She was incredible. I know every little girl thinks her mother is beautiful, but I know my momma outshined them all, especially when she sat behind that piano on Sunday mornings.
One of my favorite memories as a kid is one of me countlessly begging my mom at home to play “The Spinning Song” for me so that I could dance to it. Sometimes my brother would join me and we would spin around the room while her fingers flew across the keys. Other times I would sit next to her and follow each movement she made. Another fantastic memory and one I have enjoyed up until recently moving to Colorado, is of her playing the piano as I fell asleep. It was not uncommon for her to finish hugging us goodnight and then to sneak downstairs to the basement to practice old songs, or to practice music for Sunday mornings. It was always a treat for me because the piano was always audible from my room, and the music would waft up the air vents and lull me to sleep. Sometimes, when she wanted to really relax, she would play part of Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata, one of my favorite piano pieces of all time. That’s something I’ve really missed since moving here; falling asleep to her on the piano.
The awesome thing is my adoration for my mom as a kid has not faded. She still shines. I am thankful that she still plays the piano on Sundays too. She’s not in charge anymore, and we are at a different church, but she has not stopped playing. My family typically sits in the same row at church, just behind the piano so that when she does play, we have a good view. My little brother Steele has always adored his momma as well, and often times when she plays, he’ll lean over to me or one of us and say “Isn’t she just beautiful?” We have always agreed. My mother possesses some sort of beauty and grace when she plays, and it’s just captivating.
My mom has always been interested in me. I’m not sure everyone can say that about their mothers. My mom has always wanted to know what my day has been like, how school was, how my relationships were going, and that didn’t strike me as unusual. Since being in high school ministry and seeing the different mother-daughter dynamics, though, I realize how uncommon that actually is. I’ve spent many nights up late with her in my room, or cuddled up on the couch with her, talking about all sorts of stuff. A lot of daughters don’t have that with their mothers. I can’t imagine where I would be without the wisdom that she has poured into me, and I know my family would not have survived without her. She has been the support for my dad and for me when he and I struggled to get along, she’s balanced us all out in such a graceful way. I am so thankful for all of this, but it has left me with one worry. How am I going to be as great a mother to my children as she has been to me? I know after the four hundredth game of mermaid in the pool as a young mom, she probably wanted to drown me, even if just for a few seconds, but she didn’t. I have no memory of her ever seeming to not want to play with me. At bedtime, we would play Bethany Bunny, where all my stuffed animals (including Bethany, the bunny) would come alive. I always thought my mom was so great at playing pretend with me! When she drove across the country with me to move me into my home here in Colorado, she confessed to me that she hated Bethany Bunny, but loved me enough to play it with me almost every single night. That is dedication.
I’m not sure I’ll have that kind of patience with my kids, but I also know that my mom set an example for me all those years ago, even if I didn’t realize it, and I hope to be able to follow in her footsteps and be just as caring and patient as she has been with me.
I remember one night I came home from something and I was in such a bad grumpy mood. I had come in the door and been so snappy and rude to her and she had just followed me to my room and taken my hands and started to pray. The moment she started to pray I was instantly sorry for how I’d spoken to her and so thankful for her that I started to cry. After finishing her prayer for me she hugged me tight and told me how she loved me.
Oh, how many times she has told me she loves me. The amount of times, even in high school, I’d come home from a bad day of school to find she had made my bed and folded my laundry for me, just because she knew how nice it felt to come home to a clean room, the amount of times she cooked me dinner even though I was totally able to do it myself, the amount of times my momma has prayed for me, even when I didn’t ask for it, has changed my life. This woman is a perfect reflection of what grace is. She has poured her entire life into me and my siblings even when I have been downright nasty to live with. When I was going through a really hard time in my life, she crawled into bed with me and reminded me that David screwed up big time, and God still used him. She reminded me that Job lost everything he owned and loved, and still kept his eyes on God, and God blessed him. She told me that I could lose everything I owned to, but that I needed to decide who I was going to keep my eyes on. That day she gave me some of the greatest advice a person could give. Trials will come, and blessings too, but she reminded me that no matter the situation, that I needed to keep my faith in God. That is the greatest thing a parent could teach their child.
My mom is far above average, she is smart, funny, musically brilliant, and she is grace. She has endured pain, loss, hardship, heartache, and she has laughed until she’s cried, she has raised four awesome kids, she has loved and cared for my dad and she has done it all joyfully. I pray often that I can be as wonderful a woman as my beautiful mother.
I love you, Mom.