To My Mom

I'm glad that we get to celebrate mothers tomorrow.  While I'm trilled and flattered that my husband and girls are going to celebrate me (YAY!) I can't help but wish that I could celebrate with my mother.  Seriously.  She is awesome.  She deserves ``a lot of recognition.  She deserves breakfast in bed and a delicious dinner.  She deserves to be pampered.  She deserves to be showered with gifts.  Due to the fact that we're still poor college kids and we live far away, she isn't going to get any gifts or pampering from me.  She will get a card.  Due to my scatter-brained nature, she will get her card late.  Sigh.  So much less than what she deserves, BUT I want her, and all of you guys, to know exactly why she deserves so much.  Here is a list of a few things my mother taught me.

1) You can do anything as long as you know there's an end. Always good to hear in the middle of a trial.  Or a semester.  Or a pregnancy.  Or potty training.

2) My Savior loves me. Before I was able to develop my own testimony, I knew that Christ loved me.  I knew because my Mom told me.  I knew she was right because she was smart.  I also knew she'd never lie to me.

3) Use your right foot to accelerate AND to brake.

4) You can always find something to be grateful for.   My junior year, after my sister died, we moved into this tiny shack.  My mom became a single mother who still had 7 children to care for. As you can imagine, we had very little money. We had a van and it seemed like something was always going wrong with it.  We were on our way back from Bryan, where she spent the last little bit of money we had getting the brakes fixed.  We were tired.  Tired of being sad that my sister was gone.  Tired of the dumpy shack with the awful bathroom.  Tired of being broke. Tired of everything being a struggle.  As we neared home, a tire blew out.  The van swerved a little and Mom was able to pull it over.  She started to cry and put her head on the steering wheel.  I knew that this had just broken her.  She lifted up her head and suggested that we should pray.  I folded my arms and waited for her to pray for the Lord to give us a break or to show us some way out of our predicament.  She didn't pray for those things.  She bowed her head and thanked the Lord for keeping us safe and for His constant care.  As she said her tearful prayer, I realized that her tears were from being overwhelmed with gratitude, not from sadness.  I was surprised and humbled.  When she had finished praying I told her how that wasn't the prayer I thought she'd offer.  She looked surprised and said, "Courtney, we could have been in an accident and gotten very hurt.  The Lord blessed us and kept us safe."  I think about that a lot.  I mean A LOT.  When things seem terrible this is usually what pulls me out of the funk (admittedly, I usually struggle and whine before I remember). 

5) You don't walk on a softball field.  You run to your position, you hussle after the ball,  then you run off the field to the dugout.  So, perhaps not the most important lesson she taught me but she was my coach for a lot of years and I'm unable to forget it.  While she meant it literally, I think you can also apply the concept to life.  Don't putt through life; always be anxiously engaged in a good cause.

Mom, you put up wth an awful lot.  I know you don't think so, but you have also taught me a lot about patience (I said you taught me.  I didnt say I learned).  I'm grateful you showed so much patience with us.  I know we were always quick to tell you what you did wrong (and sometimes we still do-sorry), but you did so much right.  I am a much better person than I would have been without your example.  Thanks for all of the sacrifices you made for us.  You stayed up late while I slept so you could type my 5 page paper that I had written by hand and forgot to type.  You hunted in ditches trying to find the shoe that flew off the top of my car on the way to school.  You showed up to my performances, games, banquets, and concerts, often with very little notice.  You picked me up in the middle of the night from sleepovers when I just wanted to come home.  You did my paper routes when I was sick.  You flew out to Idaho because I wanted my mom for  my birthday.  Basically, you are the bomb-diggity.  Thanks for everything.  I love you.