My little midgets who contributed to yet another wonderful Mother's Day. (James couldn't see because he had just been into my mascara.)
George Washington put it well when he said, "My mother was the most beautiful woman I ever saw. All I am I owe to my mother. I attribute all my success in life to the moral, intellectual and physical education I received from her." This is how I feel when I think about the primary women in my life, especially my own mother.
The family lore regarding my great grandmother Frances reveals a wonderful sense of humor even when life was all work and no play. I loved hearing stories of our industrious great grandma Dow. She was very much loved and revered by her daughters and granddaughters (and apparently her roses were something to behold!).
Her third daugher was grandma Edna. She moved and worked with purpose and said things the way she saw them. She always conducted herself with utmost integrity, and even when the truth was hard to hear ("Your haircolor is quite awful," or "Golly! What kind of a last name is that to pin on somebody?! when meeting a fiance for the first time, or when addressing a boy I was about to go on a date with, "I sure hope you're not taking this one out to dinner, why! she'll eat you out of your wallet!"), you always knew she loved you. Her faith in the promises of God was unshakable, and her devotion to her family and the temple undeniable. I miss her very much.
My paternal grandmother is Margaret, our first daughter's namesake. It was an easy decision to name little Meggy after her because Grandma is someone I've always wanted to be just like. After years of not seeing her, she has the ability to make me not only feel like a beloved granddaughter, but a treasured friend. Grandma is renown for her ready giggle and quick wit. I remember her sitting on my couch once and saying wistfully, "Oh, to be 80 again!" We laughed the rest of the day about it. Embraced by the warmth and comfort of her living room, I remember understanding for the first time the whisperings of the Holy Ghost and feeling a desire to make my own home as holy a place as her's.
My own mother is one of my favorite people on earth. In her you have a guaranteed conversation about anything you choose, she relates to everyone, is interested in everything. She worked us like little horses as children, something I have always been grateful for, because she was right next to us working even harder. She is responsible for many of the good qualities I possess, and I can easily trace any success I've had in life back to some prompting, encouragement, or example of my mother. To name a few...
Regular personal and family prayer (little Linnell is in the middle),
An interest in farm life and animals,
Healthy respect for the skinny-minny
(you know what I'm talking about, Bep!),
A love for monkeys, or in my case, my children,
A love for my husband and a determination to stick to
my promises through thick and thin.
I hope I can be as effective a mom as mine was, not that I'm perfect--far from it. But my mistakes have been my own. My successes are a tribute to my wonderful mother.
No painter's brush, nor poet's pen
In justice to her fame
Has ever reached half high enough
To write a mother's name.
~Author Unknown
Don't forget, Madre y Abuela!
