The faithful reader of this blog will know all about my mom and her issues with the DC police and Federales. If you missed it, catch up here…http://wheniwasaboy.wordpress.com/2011/04/29/my-mom-the-felon/. I just want to take a moment to fill in the mental pic of the woman who gave me birth. She is more than the felon on the lamb you have been introduced to.
When I was a boy, my mom was always there. In the magick-heavy valley of Sinking Creek, mom filled the traditional role of house-wife. Today that seems less than it did in the 70’s. Back then, most mom’s in WV stayed home. Kids needed tending to, as did the garden, house, laundry, etc. The value of a rock to which the house could be pinned was like air. Always there, constant and sure.
Mom came from a very musical family and taught me to sing and the beginnings of piano playing. I can still remember sitting on the piano bench with Mom, learning the finger positions of the “F” chord. Like a stumbling first step, I may not be running yet, but at least I can walk and to that I owe a great debt to mom.
Besides the mere physical and emotional aspects, mom was the spiritual garden in which I was planted. I have grown to be what I am because of her. Funny thing is, she is the off-spring of her mom and often told the story of her salvation and the beginnings of what it means to seek the face of God. So to tell mom’s story, I have to touch on Grandma Wine’s story too.
When my mom was a girl, she lived up a holler in central West Virginia as one of the middle of 10 children born to Melvin and Eddie Wine. Think pre-TV, rural Appalachia with all the crushing poverty that implies. Boonies and beyond.
One day, as mom was walking to church with grandma, they had a conversation about God. Grandma told a young Rita, “My salvation won’t stand for you. You have to find God on your own and not depend on me to see the face of God.” I want to expand on that….but I can’t. It is the essence of “Work out your own salvation with fear and trembling before the Lord” from a woman who had very little formal education, but was as wise as you could ever hope to meet. And yes, I know how blessed I have been to have such spiritual giants in my life.
So even though I grew up in church, mom never let me be complacent about my spiritual growth. Never let me be complacent about much of anything, really.” See what isn’t there….look beyond what your eyes can see.” Rita could give lessons to Mr Miagi in confusing mysticisms. That and the yodeling lessons pretty much summed up my youth.
Not really. There are no words to describe the sense of safety and reassurance I have from my mom. That unconditional love and painful longing for my security and happiness I have seen pour from her eyes both lifts and pushes me forward. Today, when I get to spend time with Rita, it is invariably an uplifting time when we both walk away refreshed and happy with where the other is. For that, and so much more, I am thankful.
So happy Mother’s Day, Miss Rita, and all you other mom’s out there. What you do is not in vain regardless of how it seems on those dark days, when everything seems to crash down around your ears and you are filled with despair for your offspring. As a very wise woman once told me, “There is no way to be a perfect mom, but a million ways to be a good one.”
Here's to all you ladies looking for one of those million ways.
When I was a boy, my mom was always there. In the magick-heavy valley of Sinking Creek, mom filled the traditional role of house-wife. Today that seems less than it did in the 70’s. Back then, most mom’s in WV stayed home. Kids needed tending to, as did the garden, house, laundry, etc. The value of a rock to which the house could be pinned was like air. Always there, constant and sure.
Mom came from a very musical family and taught me to sing and the beginnings of piano playing. I can still remember sitting on the piano bench with Mom, learning the finger positions of the “F” chord. Like a stumbling first step, I may not be running yet, but at least I can walk and to that I owe a great debt to mom.
Besides the mere physical and emotional aspects, mom was the spiritual garden in which I was planted. I have grown to be what I am because of her. Funny thing is, she is the off-spring of her mom and often told the story of her salvation and the beginnings of what it means to seek the face of God. So to tell mom’s story, I have to touch on Grandma Wine’s story too.
When my mom was a girl, she lived up a holler in central West Virginia as one of the middle of 10 children born to Melvin and Eddie Wine. Think pre-TV, rural Appalachia with all the crushing poverty that implies. Boonies and beyond.
One day, as mom was walking to church with grandma, they had a conversation about God. Grandma told a young Rita, “My salvation won’t stand for you. You have to find God on your own and not depend on me to see the face of God.” I want to expand on that….but I can’t. It is the essence of “Work out your own salvation with fear and trembling before the Lord” from a woman who had very little formal education, but was as wise as you could ever hope to meet. And yes, I know how blessed I have been to have such spiritual giants in my life.
So even though I grew up in church, mom never let me be complacent about my spiritual growth. Never let me be complacent about much of anything, really.” See what isn’t there….look beyond what your eyes can see.” Rita could give lessons to Mr Miagi in confusing mysticisms. That and the yodeling lessons pretty much summed up my youth.
Not really. There are no words to describe the sense of safety and reassurance I have from my mom. That unconditional love and painful longing for my security and happiness I have seen pour from her eyes both lifts and pushes me forward. Today, when I get to spend time with Rita, it is invariably an uplifting time when we both walk away refreshed and happy with where the other is. For that, and so much more, I am thankful.
So happy Mother’s Day, Miss Rita, and all you other mom’s out there. What you do is not in vain regardless of how it seems on those dark days, when everything seems to crash down around your ears and you are filled with despair for your offspring. As a very wise woman once told me, “There is no way to be a perfect mom, but a million ways to be a good one.”
Here's to all you ladies looking for one of those million ways.