I am my mother’s daughter.

This is one of my favorite pictures of my mother taken over twenty years ago.  I just the love the way it captures her beautiful profile.  She has always been this beautiful.  And her beauty goes deeper than anyone I have ever known.

I really can’t imagine life without my mother.  I share Abe Lincoln’s sentiments when he said “Everything I am or ever hope to be, I owe to my angel mother.”  While I am certain she made mistakes as a mother, I can honestly say, I cannot recall one.  Perhaps, that’s because she invested much more good than she withdrew bad.  I have been blessed beyond measure because of her.

My love for the written word is largely due to her exposing me to books at a very young age.  I can still remember as a little girl heading to the Flint River Library to join other children in book readings.  I can also recall the excitement I felt each week as I brought home my borrowed books.  She introduced me to books, and I was able to enter into a world where I knew anything was possible.  It was this love that ignited my love to write.

She endured through my stubborn resolve to not wear socks where the lace overlapped.  (And, as noted yesterday with my little Anna, I know exactly what she must have felt.)  When I wrote my first song about a falling star, she assured me it was top 40 material, regardless of the fact that it included a line about killing a bumble bee.  She let me write and mail a letter to Brett Butler of the Atlanta Braves and convinced me that he read it.  She loved me still after I screamed “I hate you.”  She made my sixteenth birthday truly sweet.  If she told me once, she told me a thousand times how proud she was of me when I graduated from college.  She squeezed me tight the day before I married.  She held me close the day I got divorced.  And she rubbed my head the day I gave birth to my son.  And, then, she held him, too. 

Then, one day she watched us hop aboard an airplane with the last of our belongings and venture off into new adventures.  While she hurt inside, she smiled and still said, “I am so happy for you.” 

She is a wonderful Nan.

She is my rock and my best friend. 

She is my dear mother. 

I hope one day my children love me as much as I love her.

Happy Mother’s Day.

 

8 Comments

Filed under Motherhood, parenting, Relationships

8 responses to “I am my mother’s daughter.

  1. Judy

    Her children stand and bless her.
    Her husband praises her:
    “There are many virtuous and capable women in the world,
    but you surpass them all!”

    That is from Proverbs…the Book of Judy quotes….she gives hope to the hopeless and strength to the weak…one of the strongest women I know…she understands what truly matters in life…AND MY FAVORITE ROAD TRIP GIRL!!!!!!!!

  2. Betsey

    What a beautiful tribute to Barbara. What I love about your mother is that she is a shining example of one who loves without conditions and she lives her life in servanthood to God and others. She is a blessing to all who know her, and she is blessed to have you as a daughter, Dusty. And, BTW-ALL of the pictures are beautiful!

  3. Well, tears are flowing for this love of you to your Mom! This is written from deep heart feelings. I love this Mom of yours dearly! She is amazing, such a beauty, inside & out! This speaks VOLUMNS to her heart, I am sure! Bravo Dusty! Bravo Barbara! You both look alike too! So, wasn’t God incredible in this gift of a Mom. Happy Mother’s day to both of you!

  4. marla

    How touching!! I bet Barbara is just beaming right now! That was a great tribute to your mom. I know she’s proud. Have a great Mother’s Day!

  5. You’re both so beautiful and I really admire how you honour your mom. Happy Mother’s Day.

  6. Amy Hull Watson

    UMMM was that a Care Bear shirt you had on?? TOO CUTE… and you look a lot like Anna too… But, as awesome as your mom is and I know she is from being around her.. I do have to say my mom is ranked up there among the mom angels too… KISSES and Happy Mothers Day…

  7. Pingback: Four Friends. « The Randomness of Dusty Takle

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