jewels

The other day, Violet's sewing basket fell down from a shelf in the closet

and these jewels came sparkling down.

This one was saved for Kellie 

when we went through Mom's things

to sell the homeplace.

I wore this one yesterday for Mother's Day

My little tribute to Violet.

And to Grace.

The jewels in my basket of memories.

My two moms.

It's funny which memories come to mind

when I think of them.

My Mom, Grace, brings back pictures of

hanging clothes out on the line.

Dancing to Perry Como and Nat King Cole

in the kitchen.

Frying zucchinni in the summer and

freezing peaches.

Self - sacrificing.

Stern.

She took me to see Carousel and Camelot

live on stage in St. Louis.

We always stopped at Steak and Shake on the way home.

We went downtown St. Louis to shop for her shoes...

size 12 AAAA.

She was the tallest, thinnest woman I knew.

She loved having her hair done and her nails

painted red.

She didn't yell at me for getting sick during a lunch 

and fashion show at Famous Barr tearoom.

She let me order pie at Mrs. Hullings cafeteria lunches.

She took me to Boyd's diner for a hamburger 

after piano lessons on Saturdays.

She made me practice piano for a half and hour

every day after school before I could go out and play.

For 10 years.

She made me play the piano for friends when they 

would come over to visit.

They would all sit around the living room

and listen to my little concerts.

I hated that.

But some of her friends were old world Germans

and they always brought over  this luscious

cake that had about 15 eggs in it  and it tasted like heaven.

You had to play for your cake!

We always went to downtown St.Louis on one night

during the Christmas season to look at the 

fabulous displays in the store windows.

They were animated and so detailed.

My mom made sure I was in church every Sunday.

It was not up for debate.

My mom took a lot of lip from me, and Im sure a lot of

eye rolling, sighing, and brooding.

She  never yelled.

She taught me to sew.

My mom went to a ladies group called

Extension.  I never knew what it was

all about,

but one day they did a craft project where

they brought a pair of shoes they didn't like

for decorating.

She totally covered hers with

daisy fabric.

I guess they decoupaged them...

I never saw her wear those shoes, 

but I loved them.

I wish my Mom could have met Jim and the kids,

and oh how she would have loved to meet 

Olivia and Annalie.

She must be busy now with her flower gardens, singing and dancing

and crafting.

She was a jewel..

a Godly woman full of life,

faithful and strong.

I miss her on Mother's Day.

Violet  became my mom in 1973.

I didn't fully appreciate her gifts until 

I had some time to grow up a little.

Her life was harder and more complicated than most.

But she managed to inject

some beauty into her life

with her gardens

and flowers.

She worked harder than 

anyone should have to

and it wore her out.

But she kept on.

Her body kept falling apart 

and the doctors kept putting it

back together again.

We called her The Bionic Woman.

She raised 5 great kids

made the best cookies and pies you ever ate.

She kept her house clean and the kids clean

and got the whole brood to church

no matter what.

She canned and canned and cooked and cooked, 

probably more hours of her life

than anything else.

She sewed.

She quilted.

She kept  4 rowdy boys in line,

and made them cut their own whipping switches

from the tree.

She killed and cleaned the chickens for Sunday dinner.

These are not my memories of her.

My memories are of a woman 

who cared for her husband with Alzheimers disease.

Lunches at Hardee's every week and

trips to WalMart

A woman who never had anything fancy, 

but who had love for her family

and endurance for the long journey.

A woman of faith in the Good Lord.

A woman who prayed and read her Bible every morning

without fail.

Even after she couldn't really see that well.

A jewel.  A strong woman.

I miss her on Mother's Day.

I am blessed beyond measure

to have known them both.