For Christmas this past year, my daughter got me a gift that, in the words of cousin Eddy on National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation, “keeps on giving the whole year through.” Monday of each week I get a question from Sierra through a company called Storyworth that I write a response to. At the end of the year I’ll receive a book containing my responses to Sierra’s 52-questions from the past year.

I’ve enjoyed the opportunity to explore the various questions, and as Mother’s Day has recently rolled by, I thought I’d share a portion of my response to the question, “What was your Mom like when you were a child?”

What was my Mom like when I was a child?  She was much like she is today, creative, sarcastic, funny, witty, and caring.  This is going to sound like a humble brag, but when I was a child, often times when we were around family and my Mom’s friends, I would hear, “You are just like your Mom.”  A young boy doesn’t want to hear that he is like his Mom, he wants to hear that he is like his Dad, and it took me several years to realize how much of a compliment it was to be compared to my Mom.

My parents bought the grocery store in Lignite when I was about 16-years old, but prior to that, Dad worked in the oil field and Mom stayed home with us kids and took in a lot of sewing.  She was always at her sewing machine.  People from all around would bring her wedding and prom dresses for alterations or anything else that needed fixing, adjusting, or a creative touch.  When I was going through my Rhinestone Cowboy phase, she sewed me a black satin western shirt with ivory snaps and a yolk with tassels, that I proudly wore for my 2nd grade picture day.

Whenever something needed to be done, Mom was, and still is, quick to volunteer her time and talents.  Cub Scout leader, little league coach, catechism teacher, school field trip chaperone…she always stepped forward when something we were involved in had a gap that needed to be filled.  Us kids could always count on her to come through with a last-minute Valentines box or costume for school, whenever we “forgot about it” until the night before we needed it.  Watching her creative process in action was always amazing to me.  Something from nothing would always appear, and that something was always something to be proud of.  I remember often getting the question from classmates and teachers, “Where did you get that?” and I’d respond with a smile, “My Mom made it.”    She made so much for so many and I never once heard her ask for or express any expectation of anything in return.  She was and still is one of the most selfless people I know.

The autonomy Mom granted us in every and all situations amazes me.  Never telling us what to think, or who we should be, but allowing us to think for ourselves and to set out to discover that self.  Allowing us to fail and to try again, and to fail again.  The only thing I feel that she purposely told us to be was humble, and even that was not done through words.  She never said, “Be humble.”  Rather, it was done through her pointing out when we were bragging or lacking in sportsmanship, and making us “feel” that that sort of behavior wasn’t right. 

For example, when I was in the 8th grade playing a JV football game in Sherwood, I tackled a kid on the other team, that was smaller than myself, harder than was probably necessary several times throughout the game.  Tackled him hard, and possibly strutted around a bit?  I also scored several touchdowns that game, but after the game as I came up to Mom smiling, quite proud of myself, she simply said, “Did it make you feel good to tackle that little kid like that?”  That is how she taught us humility.  A single question to make us ponder our behavior.  I remember thinking, “Well it did, until you put it that way.”

So, what was my Mom like when I was a child?  She was everything I needed her to be.  She taught me empathy by being empathetic.  She taught me humility by being humble.  She was and is a friend to many, a great conversationalist that can talk to anyone about anything, but at the same time seems to not be needy of such things.  She takes them as they come, when they come, and is fully present and engaged in that moment, but is also just as comfortable in quiet creative solitude.

This is what she was and is, and I am quite proud of her.