Mom

This is my mom. Actually, it's my mom with my son, Nate and his darling wife, Sarah. My mom, as you can see, is a tiny little thing. But she has a big heart and a generous nature, and she's still one of my best friends. 

Even now, when I have grown children of my own, I call my mom, and I know she will answer. Because she's always there, just like she was when I was growing up. Moreover, she's always pleasant -- one of the only people I know whose mood isn't affected by anything external. Maybe that's why I love this picture so much. It shows her being there, and being happy about it. 

Today, I had a conversation with my mom, and she said, "I can't really do great things any more." I thought of this quote I recently read -- the closing quote in the book Middlemarch, written by George Eliot, in the 1870's:

“Her full nature … spent itself in channels which had no great name on the earth. But the effect of her being on those around her was incalculably diffusive: for the growing good of the world is partly dependent on unhistoric acts; and that things are not so ill with you and me as they might have been, is half owing to the number who lived faithfully a hidden life, and rest in unvisited tombs” (George Eliot, Middlemarch [1986], 682).

Mom, do you remember just 3 weeks ago, when Sarah and Nate were married? You told Sarah she was the 81st person in your family. 81 people owe the biggest blessings of their lives to you and Dad. 81 people have watched you face life alone with both guts and grace. 81 people call you Mom or Grandma. 81 people love you.

You have contributed to the 'growing good of the world' unhistorically, continuously, and faithfully.

Those seem like great things to me.

Thank you, Mom. I love you.

Shawna