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My Mother has always been there for all four of her sons and daughters. She spent her life teaching us to love each other.

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She once told me that she and my Dad didn’t really know what true love was until they had had their children.

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My Mother encouraged and helped all of us to be the best at whatever we chose to do. She read to us, had nightly prayers with us, taught us to shine our shoes, fold our clothes, take care of our pets, crack the eggs, put the bridle on the horse, and show us where middle C was on the piano.

She also pulled the horse out of the ditch when it was flooding, faced down the burro when he cornered her in the shed, killed a Water Moccasin that came up out of the ditch, chased me down with a switch when I needed a switching, comforted me all night long when I had a broken heart, watched over us when we had high fevers, protected us when a crazy man was stalking our home, took in our cousins for a year when their parents needed to leave to stay at the hospital in a distant city with their critically injured daughter. So much good our Mother has done in her life that it would require a book. (which might be a good idea)

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I know Mother must have been exhausted with so many little ones so close in age but I never saw it when I was a child. I didn’t realize it until I became a Mother myself and I was up all night with my own babies.

Mothers don’t cease being Mothers when their children grow up. They have their ways of keeping in touch. My Mother calls me everyday if I don’t call her first. She has learned how to use her cell phone but hasn’t yet perfected the use of voice mail. (or maybe she has)

When she leaves me a voice mail message, she pauses a little while, I hear all the static and sounds in the background and then, her voice, “This is your Mother,” then, after a while, maybe another word or two, then, click. Another variation, is, “It’s your Mother calling.”

There’s the love in the voice. Always the love.

Happy Mothers’ Day Mother.

I am blessed.