My mother knows my attitude about flowers and funerals - I think you give the flowers while the person is still alive instead of putting them on a grave, and you let the person know how you feel while they can still appreciate it, instead of saving it all up for everyone else in a eulogy when they are gone.
On Monday, my mother will be 95 years old. That is a grand age, and one well worth celebrating. She is a quiet person, and hates to be the center of attention, so we are having a small family party, not a large affair. But I am a proud daughter, not because she is 95, but because she is the person she is at any age. So I feel a need to brag about her a little bit, to let the world know the person I get to see all the time.
My mother's greatest asset is the quality of her unconditional love, which she has showered upon us our entire lives. No matter what the situation, even when she was mad at us or disgusted with us, or disagreed with our choices, she was faithful and steadfast in her love and support. She is always there for us, every single time without fail. It can be hard to love someone purely - she has done that for me my entire life, both when I deserved it, and even more when I didn't. I am filled with gratitude beyond expression.
She is proud of us all, her descendents, and relishes each accomplishment of her children, grandchildren and now her great-grandchildren. There is never any resentment over what she wasn't able to do in life; she is simply happy that we are able to do what we do.
Mom is not only quiet, she is an oyster about information. While that drove her sister to distraction ("Rosella never tells me anything!") it also guaranteed that whatever you tell her will remain with her and no one else will ever know. What a gift it is to be able to unload your burdens and know they will never come back to haunt you. And I can honestly say I have never heard the dreaded words, "I told you so." She knew she didn't need to say them, because we already knew she did, anyway.
She learned the value of faith early on, and it has held up through all the torments life threw her way. In turn, her example has encouraged us to embrace that same love of God, and has sustained us through our own trials over the years. Her dynamic faith example has allowed us to search for our own faith, drift away, and return, stronger and with deeper understanding of what we believe. She understood that for our faith to be real, we had to have the room to claim it for ourselves. The power of a praying mother should never be underestimated, and we are fortunate to have her praying over us.
Although many people don't get to see this side of her, she has a great sense of fun and adventure. Whether it was hiking in the mountains, driving the Alcan (when it was still a gravel road and not very well maintainted),) having puppies in the kitchen, taking a walk on the railroad track after school, playing Scrabble, cross country skiing, cooking breakfast over a Coleman stove at the end of a picnic table, or just chatting in her kitchen, she laughs easily and wears the mantle of her years lightly. She embraces new technology and is eager to learn everything from computers and cell phones to facetime and texting. Her energy and grace are an inspiration to me always, and a reminder that you are never too old to appreciate something new.
Mom is a little quirky, like most depression children, and we have often giggled about her stash of washed tin foil, bread bags, twist ties and containers. At any moment, you might walk into her kitchen and see bags hanging over handles or tin foil drying in the sink. But the reality is she and her cohorts are the original recyclers, and they were reusing and repurposing long before most of us were a gleam in anyone's eye. From flour sacks to rag rugs, they capitalized on everything they had, a lifelong habit that has stood the test of time. In a throwaway society, mom repairs and rewires and reuses on a constant basis. Her jar full of odds and ends is a staple item in her kitchen, and it is surprising how often we have found just the thing we needed in that little ceramic strawberry that sits proudly on her windowsill.
Mom is a great money manager, and squirreled away my dad's earnings so effectively that we traveled North America far and wide during my childhood, instilling a love of travel that has passed down to the next generation, and the generation after that. Her grandchildren have traveled the world, and it all started with a shy woman who saved her pennies and showed us the possibilities.
She has a strength of spirit that has seen her through the hardest of times that gives courage to everyone who witnessed it. Her losses were great, but her faith was even greater, and she continues to be the most positive person I know. Bending but not breaking is a life skill I learned at the feet of the master craftsman, and I have drawn on her strength over and over again through the years.
At the same time, mom has a gentleness of heart that enables her to care for others in a most selfless way, even at the risk of her own heart. I have witnessed this up close and personal, and I can tell you that even behind closed doors when no one else is looking, the person you see in public is the person she is in private. She does not gossip about others. She never has a negative word to say about anyone. She always looks for the good in everyone and everything. She is generous with compliments and stingy with criticism, even when deserved. She is generous of spirit and uplifts your soul simply by being there, whether in a text, a phone call, or in person.
She would be the first to say she is not perfect, but I don't think perfection should be the goal. I think being the very best person you can be is the goal and I think she hits that out of the ballpark. She has made me a much better person because of her example, and I can't imagine a better role model for myself, my children and my grandchildren.
Mom, I wish you a very happy birthday, and even more, I wish you many more years with us. Your love is a guiding light in a world that is often dark, and I am so grateful to be your daughter.
With love, Sarah
