Fifty-Five.

Today is my mother's birthday.  Today is the day, five years ago, I handed her a letter, and in it, handed her my deepest heart, consumed with how much I loved her and how absolutely thankful I was that she was my mom, my role-model, my Christ-guide, and my friend.

So on this day, five years later, I post her letter once again.  As a tribute to her, and what she means to me.

 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

For Mom, as you turn fifty ~

After three different card stores, sections from birthday to mother to fifty years, there was still no card that came even adequate to put words and texture to the legacy that your fifty years offers.  So instead, after scrolling their words and reviewing the pretty pictures on the covers, I thought I would put words to it myself, in the simplest form, in story.

I sat down at the retreat this weekend, enamored by the beautiful women of Crossroads and found myself flustered, wondering what I would have to offer them, and wishing I could almost shrink in the back.  But then, a woman came up to me and said, “I remember you from the last retreat, last fall.”

I looked at her blankly, rummaging my mind for a recollection, a name, anything to try and place her.  But instead, all I could present was a blank, polite smile.

But she stopped and continued, grabbing my arm.  “I remember you because of the story you told about your mother.”

And then it clicked – last fall, gathered around a table, discussing motherhood, that I shared about the woman you were.

This is not an uncommon intercession with people I know.  Surely, they remember me, but more often than not, they also remember you.  Not because they have met you, but because of the stories I have told about you, the pride I hold in my eyes when I think of you, and the gift I know I am giving when I share the way you live.

I share it often.  The way you work and talk and pray with Aunt Mil, the way you work with care to make a house a home, the way you tend flowers and give them away to bring beauty to people’s lives.  The way you send mail and packages, and did for me for five years straight.  The way you put faith and family first.  The way you and dad display your relationship.

I share these stories with people. 

At wedding showers, I am often asked to give a word of advice… and I steal yours and dads: Date your spouse.  The legacy you both have given your children is a gift we all hold.  I share your stories of Mom’s Mystery Trips, serving at the KCC Café,  lighting candles at the dinner table, sharing Bible Studies and coffee dates, making home a place of peace rather than argument, trips you planned and brought us joy through, and how you held your Bible to your chest when you heard of your parents. 

Even just this week I was talking to a cousin about marriage and suggested she talk with you, because you and dad have been so faithful and committed.  Funny thing is, she already knew.  She didn’t need my words, because she already saw both you & dad live your love so strongly that she had called you herself.

Your legacy in these fifty years is your life.  You live to shine to others and we see your light. 

I leave you with one more story.  This week you turn fifty.  And this week, your life will live as a testimony in one more home.  

On my women’s retreat, the speaker talked about women being the presence of the Holy Spirit in their homes.  Afterward, we gathered in small groups - a collection of strangers piled together to work and love as women for the weekend.  At the end of the small group session, I paused and took a breath and said, “I actually have a story to share to those of you who are moms.  Now, I know my parents aren’t perfect, but the legacy my mom left in our home still sticks with me today and I share it with you as a model and maybe as a way it can be done for you.  My mom was a sense of peace in our home all growing up, and now as a adult, I still remember specific things she did.  When I would wake up every morning, she would be praying.  You just knew it was mom’s prayer time, no thought given to it.  It wasn’t until I grew up that I realized my mom was unique in this.  She woke with my dad and then spent her time in prayer.  Then we would bundle for school and no matter how late we were running, she would gather us in the back room and we would pray.  We started our day that way, every day.  The school day would go on and when we returned home, she would be there.  She would set aside her ironing, put the dinner pot aside, tell the caller she would call back later, and she would stop.  She would bend over the island and ask about our day, take the time to be with us.  When dad got home, it was much the same.  They would kiss each other and shut the door for five to ten minutes, just being with one another and being together.  Sometimes this trait followed dinner too.  Even now, though we are all grown, she is still there.  She calls, we call, we gather.  There is something great about being a mother, a woman, and I offer you the story of my mom to help you be the presence of the Holy Spirit in your own homes.”

I left the small group with their eyes glued and thoughtful, though still wondering if I had said the right thing and if my words meant anything.  But from a small group of eight, four of which were moms, women came up to me to say thanks for that story.  Your story.  One tattooed woman with two little kids at home gathered us together with tears in her eyes and said, “Christina changed my life today and the life of my home.  Because of the story of her mom, I want to be that way.  I want to be a sense of peace for my kids and my husband.  I want to keep trying.  I am going go back home and remember your mom and try to be that sense of peace for my family.”

So mom, this week, as you turn fifty, know that you are a powerful woman.  You live a legacy to those you hold dear, to those you meet, and those you don’t even know.  Your one life has encouraged and inspired many.  You are a place of peace, a woman of shelter.  You are a cup of tea for a friend on a difficult afternoon, a partner in the jeep on a Sunday afternoon drive, a candy-holding story teller on a Monday night, a cookie-baking Grandma on a Tuesday morning.  You are a friend, a love, a light on the hill, a legacy.

Thank you for being you.  You are a blessing.

Love you always,

Christina Jill