It's nights like these, the ones where I'm so spent my body actually hurts that I think of my Mother.
It's been a couple weeks of countless events and activities centered around the kids. End of the school year awards, programs, parties and sporting events. Those things I couldn't stand to miss because they are opportunities to show my kids they are special to me. Jake's little face in the crowd of other students or Reese's expression when she finds me in the sea of parents is priceless.
Several years ago, I had an epiphany. I was mother to three very young children. Nearly every breath and motion of my body was to meet some need of one or more of them. I was suddenly struck with a new appreciation for my Mom.
I thanked her for all those times she took me outside just because I wanted to go. I had since learned, she most certainly would rather have lounged on the couch with a cup of coffee had it been up to her.
When she would pick my sister and I up from elementary school, she would often bring Ritz Crackers with peanut butter on them as a snack for the ride home.
Family vacations were centered around us. Mom used to say, "On this trip, we want everyone to have their "10". She took such interest in what each of us wanted to do most and she and Daddy made a point to incorporate those things in our time away.
I remember we were all five playing a game of Pig. We usually played in order of youngest to oldest or the opposite, which meant I was always in the middle. During this particular game, she looked at me and said, "Why don't you go first this time." It sounds silly but the fact that that moment is permanently etched in my brain, tells you just how significant it was for this middle child.
Mom is someone who doesn't know what it means to quit.
She's a competitor: A high school basketball star and a state champion tennis player.
She is no stranger to difficulty.
When talking about her childhood, the word happy doesn't come up much.
She gave her heart and soul, sometimes through blood, sweat, and tears, to us.
Still does.
Her dedication in teaching ALL of us for eight years astounds me. It astounds me because I know some days it took every single bit of strength she could muster just to get through that particular day. I remember one time, and I share this only because I now KNOW exactly why this happened and have felt the exact same thing, we were having a really tough day on the home front for whatever reason. Daddy had come home to help us work through things. She pulled a pencil out of her bun and flung it across the room as she desperately cried, "Buddy, I just can't do this!"
Daddy, true to form, calmly responded, "It's going to be alright."
And it was.
Not only because he believed it would, but because she never left the trenches. She gave every bit of herself to us. Every day.
Nearly every morning when I would get out of bed, the very first place I went was to find Mama. I knew right where to look. She was in her favorite room in the house. Our quiet living room that was separate from the loud part of the house. There she would be, Bible in her lap, a pencil behind her ear, and more often than not, the evidence of recent tears on her face. She has a rock solid foundation. She knows the truth and refuses to let go of it.
Until a couple years ago every Christmas, she wore a floor length black and red plaid wool skirt. I will always associate Christmas with that kilt like skirt. I loved it. She's passed it on to Abby to continue the tradition because she says it's too tight now. 
I bet it shrunk.
Mom and Dad met on a blind date. A Providential setup. 
Words I associate with Mama:
laughter
singing
long brown hair
comfort
good food
tan skin
maple candy
a crooked tooth
prayer warrior
flowers ~she loves spring
history ~she loves that too
truth.
I love you.
~Stacey
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