With living in a small community, occasionally we were given desserts from ladies in the congregation. One time after church, the entire family was ushered into the church kitchen and this sweet, simple country woman set a lovely, homemade lemon meringue pie in front us.
“Pastor, I made this for you.”
Then she said, “This is your’n. This is your’n.”
Mom watched the wheels in our heads spinning as we conjured all the puns we could think of…”this is urine.” Mom’s eyes pierced us and we could read the daggers….”Don’t any of you kids Dare laugh….or crack a smile.”
Mom received the pie with genuine gratitude and we were all dutiful to say, “Thank you.” But once we were at home sitting at the dining room table savoring the “Urine pie”….we broke into gales of laughter.
In school, I often got test anxiety. In college, I had my legs crossed throughout the two hours I was taking my final. I was wearing a skirt and a slightly too warm sweater. I didn’t realize how nervous I was in this last Spanish class.
However, in the few short steps it took to walk to the professor’s desk, my legs gave out and I fell on my knees with my hands landing on the floor with a violent Smack. The class was shocked as was I. The professor immediately gasped, “Senorita, are you all right?”
It must have been the grace of God because somehow in a split second, I stood up, regained my composure, tossed the final on his desk, smiled and replied, “Yes. It was just a killer of a test!”
For those few minutes I was the star of the class. We all laughed together and I exited gracefully.
These cuties are all grown up now…..
A mother’s love is deep and self-sacrificing. How I remember as young children, my siblings and I each took $ 1.00 and went to the store to buy Mom a bottle of perfume for Mother’s Day. We wanted her to know how much we loved her. Each bottle had a different color lid on it—purple, red, yellow and blue. Daddy always purchased perfume for Mom—Chanel No. 5 and White Shoulders, so we just knew that she would love our choice of perfume for her.
She was so incredibly gracious and elaborate with her praise and gestures. We watched her lavish the individual fragrances on her arms and neck and exude, “Oh, it’s so lovely that you gave it to me. Oh, yes, Honey, I am wearing it.” And she did. We wanted her to wear our choice on Sundays, when we wanted her to smell really nice. (What atrocious odors she wore for our sakes.) Years later as we reminisced, we all laughed until tears came out of her eyes.
How expansively she loved us. How many times did she lovingly drape a handcrafted macaroni necklace strung with simple yarn and proudly wear it to church because one of her children made it for her. She was a woman whose primary love language was “gift giving” and though our gifts were not expensive, in her eyes, they were indeed priceless, because they showed her that as our mother, she was loved dearly.
Fast forward to my life where my own sweet kids pondered what to make me for my birthday….several years ago when I was diagnosed with diabetes. They proudly served me a simple chicken breast with a candle and I can still remember the hopeful question, “Mama, do you really like it?” And, like my own mother, I sang their praise and delighted in their desires to bless me.