the day for mothers

wishing all you mothers a very special day. may it be filled with loads of laughter, tons of hugs and kisses, and all your favorite things.

in memory of patsy :: Relief Society President

for years, 9 in fact, my mother was the Silsbee Ward Relief Society president. she not only loved that calling, it loved her. thinking back, i realize how she bloomed when called to service. service had been in her soul. tirelessly she served the sisters. i saw her worry, weep, love, celebrate, mourn, and care for the sisters.

as a 12 year old beehive, i had Elaine Boddie as an advisor. her mother had left this earth. when she spoke of Genvieve Cryer and her service, i noticed something. her eyes sparkled and her chin raised a bit higher...she was proud of her mother. i realized i was proud of my mother as well. the fact that she lived the principle of "Charity Never Faileth" was brought to my consciousness. countless cakes were baked, gallons of soup simmered, many many home visits, homemaking days planned, lessons given, and prayer. and always she felt a person had to and she did always do what was right. she was unfailing in that principle.

i am thankful for numerous examples of how to be a woman, wife, and mother. no one is greater than the legacy she left of those 9 years of service.

in memory of patsy::the clothesline

i have a clothesline in my back yard. every single time i hang some wash out on the clothesline, i think of my mother and her mother before her. as a child, many times i had to rehang the clothes i had just hung...not too terribly neatly. my mother would always remind me that as a teenager she had to do the same thing. my grandmother was quite particular about her housework, especially laundry. the shirts must face the same direction and be hung together. the pants in a certain fashion, also together. the sheets, and so on. there hasn't been a time when i do my own wash that i do not think of those women. the pride they took in taking care of a family and home. i feel close to them at that clothesline made from the poles of my mother's line. her example in my thoughts and becoming part of me. understanding that this service was the purest form of love. the kind of love that our Savior taught. that gratitude for her...for that love has no end.

in memory of Patsy :: lover of cookbooks

a portion of our collection

one thing my mother passed on to me was the love of a cookbook. every holiday, we gifted each other a nifty new cookbook. her obsession with recipes began in her teens. when in high school she would spends hours pouring through magazines and cookbooks in the library.

she marked each recipe once tested with good, ok, or even Jay loved it!

she filled countless spirals with recipes to try. and try she did. my father has said that he never knew what he would come home to for dinner. mother was fearless, much like Julia Child. she tried with confidence and smile on her face. that was her heaven on earth....her kitchen and her recipes. that is now where i find a great deal of my own solace. cooking and feeding our family is the most personal and loving gift we can give. we show love, compassion, gratitude with each spoonful. my heart is filled with gratitude for having shared this family tradition with my sweet Patsy.

In Memoriam

on this day 63 years ago my beautiful mother was born in rural mississippi. she was the a bright light in the family from the start. just her entering a room made everyone smile. she always had this thick gorgeous hair and a electric smile. she had many talents like cooking, sewing, intellectual pursuits, but one of her greatest gifts was the gift of conversation. her uncle, tate, would say she was vaccinated by the Victrola needle. he and everyone else in mississippi loved her conversations. when we would visit they would say "Patsy come here and let me hear you talk!". she just ate that up. i did too. i loved to hear my mother tell me of the times passed. everyday of her life she would share an old tale with me. i feel as if i went to brookhaven high school and travel up those stairs. that i too hung clothes on the line for my grandmother. that i was next to her as she worked the switchboard as an operator. what a gift she had. what a gift she was.

Charity Never Faileth was her motto and she lived by it. she baked countless cakes for birthdays, deaths, births, and just because she thought of you. how many chickens she fried. how many telephone conversations to let another know that she cared. what an example of Christ's love she was to me.

to honor that auburn haired, gentile, southern lady, i am going to do a series of "in memory of patsy" this month. may i do her justice.

i love and miss you dear mother.

by my own mother's hands

i shamelessly stole this picture from my sister in law's awesome blog. she posted it because nicholas was so stinking cute, i am quite sure. he was by the way. he never met a stranger, always had a smile, and looked like a little man....stinking cute!

i see something more. i can see in my mind's eye an incredibly sweet woman with the same auburn hair working away at the sewing machine on this costume. her swollen arthritic hands sewing through the night so her precious baby could be superman. and superman he was. if memory serves me, he even won first place for this costume at the ward party! i see his cute, slightly shy smile being so proud of the giant S on his chest when his name is called as winner. i can also see a mother beaming for her baby. thinking just how it was worth it for this very moment. she herself was supermom. and my amazing nick is still my superman.

legacy

lately (when do i not) i have been thinking of my mother, her mother, and her mother before her. remembering the stories of what they did with their day. what did they cook for dinner? how did they sort their laundry? did they like a cold coke on a hot day? what kind of disciplinarians where they? what was their relationship with our Heavenly Father? where they proud of me? did they know just how desperately i loved them?



those 3 very different woman taught me how to be my own woman. i watched as they raised their children, cooked their meals, prayed, sang, and laughed. i learned to say please and thank you, to put my napkin in my lap, to cook a roast, to smile....to love. my mother told me at least one thing she remembered from times gone by every day of her life. i can see my grandmother have mother take down the wash she hung on the line and do it properly....her way. never do i hang laundry, that i don't think of that....and hang it as Ola Mae Fortenberry did. if i think long enough about my great grandmother's, Nadine Fithugh Fortenberry, creamed corn i can smell it. almost everything they ate came from her garden. she is always with me in my own garden. as is my sweet mother who taught me how to raise an organic garden. she taught me that it was important to breast feed and even more important to enjoy being a mother. she was a southern belle always with her red nail enamel, alligator handbag, and ready to chat with whomever wanted one. her example was the greatest teacher i ever had. reading....every Sunday was a marathon little golden book day. cooking....everything from scratch and full of love never being afraid to try something new. gardening....the value of organic fertilizers and the taste of an heirloom tomato. spirituality....faith above all else. compassion....a pot of soup or a cake to show someone you are there while you silently pray for them.

this long line of strong yet gentile southern woman i come from is a sense of pride for me. may i carry on the legacy.

comfort

sitting still listening to the hum of the dryer, i realize that it is comforting to me. as is a pantry full of food and a crock pot cooking away. i am comforted by taking care of the ones i love. one more beautiful attribute that my dear mother passed along to me. there was a never ending stream of cakes and soups being prepared by her sweet, arthritic hands and passed along to friends and family. she celebrated your birthday, Christmas, and the birth of your child. she grieved with you when you lost someone dear to you and nursed you when you were ill....as only she could....by cooking with love. for me, it was a cut up by hand and fried chicken with a myriad of vegetables for comfort food

or a "Donna Reed" chocolate cake to celebrate.

how i miss those days.

well, its my turn to carry on the tradition.

so, here is to comforting one another. how do you comfort another?

a wonderful gift

this morning we got a wonderful gift.the girls finally came through. cameron found our very first egg while feeding. we are completely excited. the day is fast approaching when we get all our eggs from our fantastic girls!

seeing this egg in the straw took me back to my childhood. i can see the 9 year old stephanie gathering the days eggs from our chickens. my mother was the original organic gardener and homesteader. she loved her chickens and rabbits and the beautiful dark, rich soil after it had been freshly tilled. i can see her face like it was yesterday when her troy-bilt tiller, and it had to be troy-bilt, came in from her mail order. i will be forever grateful for her teaching me the joys and beauties of this way of life. watching her at her sewing machine, helping her with the canning of our vegetables and fruits, and seeing the tenderness she took with the animals....always thinking of more animals we could add...all the while knowing just how important it was to her to live this way. these are lessons that are in my heart and ever in my mind. just like this morning's egg, they were wonderful gifts. how grateful i am that she was on this earth long enough to teach me the importance of these things.