My Mother

To count, I have been writing a blog for the past thirteen mother’s days. And yet I could still fill volumes of all the amazing things my mother is and does. Because even after being her daughter for now 39 mother’s days, there is always something that surprises and amazes me about my mother. I imagine that will be the case until the day I die.

But this year, I want to introduce you to my mother from the perspective of my three-year-old. First, let me say that all five of my mother’s grandchildren adore her. If she is an amazing mother, she is an even more amazing grandmother. Perhaps because she knows the secret of being a wonderful grandmother: unconditional love. Not that she would excuse my children (or nephews) of their disobedience, bad attitudes, or wrong choices. But the fact that they are sinners does not change the fact that she loves them, encourages them, spends time with them, and wants God’s best for them. Would that we all had such a grandmother.

Nearly a year ago, after we arrived back home from spending a week at my parents, I switched out Emry’s toothbrush and gave her the one we had taken on our trip to Indiana. She looked at it, smiled and happily said, “This is the toothbrush Grandma made Emry.” I knew she was simply relating the fact that she had used this toothbrush at my parents to my mom, using her two-year-old logic that since Grandma makes her lots of things, Grandma must have made the toothbrush. I laughingly told her that I didn’t think Grandma could make toothbrushes, but then I could be wrong. I’m fairly convinced my mom can make just about anything she sets her mind to.

Apparently Emry is, too. Anything that comes from my mom is quickly declared as, “Grandma made me”. The bags, dresses, shorts, tops, hairbows and other sundry objects certainly fall under that category. However, I don’t think my mom has started her own publishing company for books, printing factory for stickers, or toy workshop for Disney princesses that happen to fit in Fisher Price Little People castles; but according to Emry… It’s rather funny that I could buy her the exact same thing and she would know it came from a store. When it’s from Grandma, though…well, Grandma must have grown that banana in her backyard in Indiana (right next to her pineapple plant!).

Emry’s little comments about “Grandma made” this or that of her (or Ethan’s!) possessions make me laugh as I try to picture my mom sitting at her sewing machine painstakingly stitching the seat part of a miniature camp chair she’s already made the frame for (complete with fold-out table). And yet they often remind me of all the things my mother has “made me” (or the kids, or Ed) and continues to do for not just myself but my dad, and my sisters, and my brothers, and my nephews, and my kids, and for everyone around her. Because this list is infinite. So, why would it surprise me if my mom made Emry a toothbrush?