Three lessons from my mother

Today’s post is written by one of my students, Jesse Shoemaker. Jesse wrote this essay in response to the prompt: Write about your mother or someone who has acted as a mother figure in your life. Describe this person and share at least three lessons you’ve learned from her.

Painting By Luplau Janssen

Painting By Luplau Janssen

My mother is a great influence in my life. She has always been there for me when I needed her to be. No matter what the circumstances might be, she always tries to find a way to fix my problem, even though I am resistant to the idea of help or advice.

My mother is a small woman. She has shoulder length hair that is coal black with heavy fades of brunette and blonde blended throughout. Her voice is slightly shrill considering she prefers to yell across the house to talk to someone rather than walk in the same room as they are and speak in a normal tone. Her eyes and mine are the same, heavy brown hazel that can change from green to brown to gold.

My mother loves to sing and dance. I remember as a child, when we would finish a movie as a family and the credits were rolling, she would jump up and grab my hands, pulling me off the couch and into a little dance we would go. She is so full of life.

When I was 11 years old, my mother was diagnosed with fibromyalgia, a muscle disease, which later became neuropathy, a nerve disease. As I entered my teenage years, it seemed like she was at her worst. There were days that she could not get out of bed; most of the time she could not get around without the use of a walker, crutches, or a wheel chair. Even the softest touch from anyone could cause her to have an inflammation of tremendous pain. Even though she has endured so much pain on an everyday basis, my mother is still one of the sweetest ladies ever. I have had very few friends that dislike my mother, and the few who do just think she is too nice, and it freaks them out a bit.

One lesson I learned from my mother is to explore the world around me. When I was young and before she became sick, my mother would always take my sister and I on hiking trips, canoeing, or some other outdoor activity that we could do as a family. If it was not for my mother I would have never experienced the thrill of white water rafting or the rush of adrenaline I get when rock climbing.

The second lesson indirectly learned from my mother is to always let go of the past. When I was a teenager, and my mother was sick, my sister or I would have to stay home and take care of her while our step dad was working. Needless to say, I felt like part of my youth was taken away from me. I held a grudge for several years towards her, until finally we sat down and talked, and I finally vented what had been bothering me for so many years. It was as if a great weight had been lifted off my shoulders, and I could finally see some happiness and joy coming back into my life.

The last lesson I learned from my mother is to never give up on yourself or your dreams. Like I mentioned earlier, she was very sick for several years; however, she never gave up on trying to get better. My mother overcame significant weight gain from her sickness and is now a little older woman who likes to dig in her garden and work on as many projects as she can. It is as if she is trying to make up for all the years of not being mobile enough to do the things in life she enjoys.

My mother is a great influence on me. She has taught me to explore the world around me. She always reminds me to let the past go and, most importantly, to never give up on myself. I cannot think of any better lessons a mother could teach her son.

Day 18–True love

*Big thanks to Betty Gail Jones for sharing her parents’ true love story with us today on Day 18 of our 28 days of love project. She’s living out her own true love story today with her husband, Mickey, and their love is inspirational to all of us who know them.*

The war was in full swing – I mean the big one, World War II.  Clif was stuck on the family farm and spent most days dreaming of just leaving it.  He had graduated from high school at 16 and spent a hard winter in the CCC camp at Blanchard Springs.  There was no money for furthering his education, and being the youngest, he was needed at home.

Some local folks knew the young people were restless so they would throw get togethers on occasion at their homes.  They would push back the furniture and crank up the phonograph and have a dance.  Clif didn’t really like to dance, but he was desperate for the faces of the other local youth who were in his same predicament.

Clif and Jane

Clif and Jane

He was greeted at the front door by Violet, a pretty dark headed gal whom he had known in school.  She smiled and welcomed him.  He really wanted to command her attention, but she was quickly swept to the dance floor by one of the gents who had come from Peace Valley.  He looked around to see who else might be there.  Quickly his eye was drawn to a tall, thin, dark haired girl who seemed to be surrounded by some other girls with whom he was also familiar.  They were locally known as the Knothole Gang.  He decided to put on his best smile and join them.

He found out that the beauty upon whom he had gazed was actually Violet’s little sister, Jane.  She looked up at him with snapping green eyes and quipped, “Well, if it isn’t little Cliffy”.  Though not impressed with her jab, he was intrigued by her spirit and really liked the way she looked in her red dress as she engaged him face to face.

One thing led to another and soon he realized that joining the Navy would be his way off of the farm and a ticket to an education afterward.  He signed up without a thought.  As many of the sailors did, he gave a last stab at romance.  He loved himself and Jane suited him just fine.  With this realization, he popped the question, “Will you marry me?”

Just about as quickly, she answered with a definitive and quick, “No.  I’m too young to be a widow and you might…well, not come back.”  She was immovable on her answer, and he was mad.  So they parted – he going to the South Pacific on a submarine, and she going to Austin, Texas with a cousin to work.

He found many girls willing to follow and befriend lonely sailors. He would have his picture made with them and send them home.  He enjoyed the female company and would hang out with other sailors and their girlfriends, but still, his heart was in Austin, Texas, and he knew that wouldn’t change.

His submarine pulled into the bombed out Pearl Harbor following the catastrophe there and he quickly made up his mind.  He found a store on the Islands that sold diamonds and liked to take the US sailors’ money.  He purchased the prettiest one he could afford and put it in the mail.

Back in the US, Jane was living it up.  She was working in an egg candling factory and then found a job as a waitress.  She had a lot of time to think about her sailor sweetheart and how things had ended badly.  Mail call was announced at her cousin’s house as he produced a small package – a box.  She could see that it had been mailed from Hawaii and couldn’t get it open fast enough.  Reflections of the diamond facets danced in her green eyes.  He truly did love her, and now that she had had time to miss him, she knew she loved him, too.

The war was over, and as Clif stepped on the banks of the US, his spirits were high.  He had come home to claim his bride and to finally attend college to be an engineer – his hopes and dreams were coming true.  Jane waited anxiously for his train to pull into the sleepy little Arkansas town with her soldier and future husband aboard.

They did, indeed, marry and had four children, of whom I am one.  It is with a grateful heart that I tell this story of love and romance.  They have been a model for me and my siblings to follow – each of whom married and have lived life with our best friends and sweethearts totaling 147 years of happy marriages.   They were happily married for 66 years.  Clif has once again sailed away to a distant land and so now they are apart once more – but not for long.  This time he will be waiting for his lovely green eyed girl from Heaven’s shore.  Perhaps she will arrive in a pretty red dress, who knows… and they will never have to be apart again.

Henry’s 2012 gratitude list

*Special thanks to my friend and regular guest contributor to this blog, Henry Petty, for sharing his 2012 gratitude list with all of us.*

In 2012, I am grateful for getting to know a lot of friends whom I really didn’t know.  For example, I might see her, if I’m lucky, once a year in passing or at a sushi restaurant, but thanks to the miracle of social media, I am still able to carry on my friendship with Bethany.  It’s wonderful to see how far she’s come in life, and how she continues to be a beacon of light hundreds of miles away. 

ImageI am grateful to still have a good paying job.

I am grateful to be able to use my skills of dancing and making a complete fool of myself for the benefit of raising money for AETN, the benefit of entertaining others Gangnam Style at our employee holiday meeting, and to bring precipitation to North Little Rock in the dead heat of summer.  A sweet little lady volunteering at AETN told me that God has given me the gift of dancing.  Keep in mind, I’m not a small guy.  I have tree trunks for legs, and my footwork is questionable at best.  But I still dance.  I’ve always loved dancing from the very first time I gave it a shot at summer camp in high school.  It’s always stayed with me.  I don’t think I’m that good at it, but others find entertainment at what I can do – and that’s alright with me.

I am grateful for receiving the Sacrament of Confirmation, where my soul is sealed with the gift of the Holy Spirit.  I have grown spiritually more in 2012 than any of the other 32 years I’ve been on this rock.  It’s powerful.  It’s amazing if you really the work and love into it and just “let go”.

And I am thankful for pressing on.  There have been events in my life where I have “cheated death”.  I have seen others much much younger than I pass away.  I’m here for a reason, God still wants me here, and I’m going to work every day to find out what that exactly is.  Maybe it’s the dancing.

Be sure to check out Henry’s blog!