Oh Momma

I refuse to accept that summer is (almost) over, and I am doing OK.

I am always saddened to hear stories where parents and children do not get along.  Sure, we all have disagreements and frustrations, but we usually make it through because there is need and love.  I think that most people do their best at parenthood and even though we all make mistakes and are not perfect, our hearts are usually in the right place.

My mom came from the "greatest generation".  She was born during the First World War, lived through the terrible depression, lost her mother as a teenager,  and contracted TB while pregnant with my older sister.  She never talked about those times; they were things we learned mostly from other relatives.  Her health was always iffy, but somehow she lived into her eighties.  I remember always worrying about losing her.  However, maybe because of her difficulties or in spite of them, she had the most wonderful sense of humor.  She had a quick wit, and the times I remember best were when all the family gathered together and the house was full of laughter.  Despite all the troubles in their lives,  the stories they would tell were happy.  A picture in my mind is of them all sitting around the kitchen table slapping their knees as they laughed hysterically over some small matter.

She has been gone 13 years now, but it often seems like she is always with me.  I see her eyes in my daughter and granddaughter, and I remember her smile when I look at things that I know that she would love.  She was a kind woman, a strict parent (most were in those days), and knew no bounds when it came to love.  She was a good teacher for us all.

When my parents died (seven months apart), we cleaned out the house and disposed of much of their possessions.  However, she was a collector of notes, letters, cards and inspirational writings that she would find.  Many of these we could not part with.  Recently, my sister came across something that she had kept.  I think I remember it sticking in the corner of her mirror in her bedroom or maybe on her dresser.

Here it is and it is something that is appropriate for my time in life.
 

A Prayer For Those Growing Old
(author unknown)

Lord, Thou knowest I am growing older

Keep me from becoming talkative and possessed
with the idea that I must express myself on
every subject.

Release me from the craving to straighten out
everyone's affairs.

Keep me from the recital of endless detail.  Give
me wings to get to the point.

Seal my lips when I am inclined to tell of my
aches and pains.  They are increasing with the
years and my love to speak of them grows
sweeter as time goes by.

Teach me the glorious lesson that occasionally
I may be wrong.  Make me thoughtful but not
nosey; helpful, but not bossy.  With my vast
store of wisdom and experience it does seem a
pity not to use it all.  But Thou knowest, Lord,
that I want a few friends at the end.

My mom is still teaching me and making me smile.