Welcome to the inaugural edition of Makes-Me-Smile Monday (a blog carnival, click here for an explanation). In honor of Mother’s Day, we’re starting off with a Mother theme. I’m excited to read all of your stories about your mother or being a mother or knowing someone once who was a mother. (Tara’s tip: invite your mother to read your story as part of your gift to her).
Here’s mine: When I was in second grade I was a tad … highstrung. My teacher Ms. Ortgesen was a thin woman who assigned us sentences to copy on that awful newsprint-like paper with the wide lines and little dots running down the center of each line. I tried hard to form my letters perfectly. If you’ve ever seen my handwriting, you could guess that I wasn’t too successful. Only those who obsess over coloring in the lines, to the shameful withering of their creative juices, know the agony I suffered.
My mother held me on her lap, and rocked me. I kept obssessing over my schoolwork until that one semester at college when I got a C+ and a 3.3 gpa. (Dick still lords it over me that he graduated with a 3.75 to my 3.74; I won’t tell you our respective GRE scores 
). And my mother kept letting me know, with words and with her arms, that she loved me, and that,
as Mrs. Lynde would say, the sun will go on rising and setting whether I fail in geometry or not. That is true but not especially comforting. I think I’d rather it didn’t go on if I failed! (Anne of Green Gables)
Somehow my mom inspired me to try my best without ever indicating that what I achieved would influence how she felt about me. Somehow she also encouraged my absolute resolve to graduate from college even though she left her studies at nineteen to care for me and my siblings. She has never, ever expressed any regret over that decision (to me; now that I’m a mother, I wouldn’t begrudge her any wistfulness over what might have been).
I hope you’ve thought of a story. Enter your name (first or last or name of your blog) and post address in the box below so we can all come read it. Or leave it in a comment. If you do have a blog, don’t forget to link back to this page (instructions here), to spread the word about Makes-Me-Smile Monday (You can use my MMSM logo, too, if you like; put MMSM in the title of your post so we can find it). If you need any help, please send me an email or a comment.
Next Monday’s story/thought can be on anything … as long as it makes me smile! (Dick needs to hurry and write his post; he’s already linked up). Also, I reserve the right to delete links that I consider to be inappropriate. Thanks!
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Thanks for your kind comments. Having you kids and raising you is the best thing I have ever done. I’m grateful that Tom had the conviction that what I spent my time doing with you kids was extremely valuable. I realize now more than ever that nurturing another human being can be so rewarding. Of course I wish I had done this or that better. I love all my children.
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One thing that I love about my Mom is that she has a great love for the outdoors. She was very adamant that we kids did not spend too much time watching TV. She was always encouraging us to go outside and play and to do something. During the summer months when we were home from school, she would take turns going on a horse ride with one of us early in the morning. When it was our turn to go, we had to get up by 5:30 am (which is early when it is summer vacation) in order to beat the summer heat. We had to go catch the horses and help Mom saddle them. We then went on a couple hour ride in the mountains behind our house, or sometimes we trailered the horses up a canyon to ride there. This activity combined my mother’s love of horses, outdoors, and being with her children. Now that I have my own daughter I want to have that same kind of energy with her. Since we don’t have horses, I guess I will have to settle for taking her to the Botanical Gardens and the beach, but I am determined to encourage her to love to be outside the way my mother encouraged that in me.
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I love that!!! Horseback riding one on one sounds great! I always appreciate my children more when I take the time to do things with them individually.
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Anyone who quotes Anne of Green Gables is a kindred spirit in my book!
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I’m curious about what my mom would say about her own mom. She was one of ten children, in a devout Catholic family. After she got married, my grandma would call my dad and ask questions to make sure my mom was being a good wife. :O My grandma is great though, she’s internet savvy.
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My mom is a great example and is truly an altruistic woman. For mothers day, I sent her a package, which she will probably get today (due to my procrastination in mailing it). I also made her a video, because we all know that it is the thoughtful, heartfelt gifts that count…right? (Check it out on http://www.liamryanwaters.blogspot.com) Anyway, when I was making the video of pictures of her throughout my childhood, I realized what a great woman she really is. I always heard that becoming a mom makes you think of your own mom differently, well I just realized this yesterday. I was thinking of all the dumb things that my mom had done, like going to the grocery store, ringing up a cart load of groceries, and then realizing that she didn’t have her wallet….well, when I almost did this last week (luckily, I had Ryan’s debit card in my pocket), It made me realize that I am so much like her and I really appreciate the grace and the humbleness that she always shows. I really need to show more appreciation for her, so I made her a video. She cried of course and said it was the best mothers day gift she got!!
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Melinda,
i think the horseback riding is cool too! and all the camping and backpacking trips you’ve told me about. i can admire those things without wanting to set out with my little kids on a long trek!
it is kind of strange that you named your daughter after your horse, though.
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[...] here’s my Makes Me Smile Mondays post, linked back to Shannon’s original post. The theme is what makes me smile about my mother (mothers is the theme). By “makes my [...]
Nice graphic. Did you make that? I’m impressed.
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Nice idea, Shannon! I’ll stop by and read your blog regularly.
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honey (Tom) — thanks for posting on your site! glad you’re impressed with my logo — i used layers in PS Elements to make it (aren’t you proud?).
Hi Barb — good to hear from you. thanks for doing MMSM (i’ll comment on your blog)!
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[...] (on anything remotely connected to Memorial Day; I’m flexible, really). To participate in the carnival, enter your name and (description) and post address so we can all come read it. Or leave it in a [...]
[...] hope you’ve thought of a dream or two to share. To participate in the carnival, enter your name and (description) and post address so we can all come read it. Or leave it in a [...]
MOTHERS
My Mother and I Came From Poland
Ever since I can remember I have always loved my mother. My earliest memory of her is when she got into a car that was supposed to drive her to the airport because she was going to work in Sweden for a few months. I was devastated and I cried and ran after the car. I was very scared to be without my mom….
Because I don’t have a very good long term memory, I have very few memories of my early childhood. My more vivid memories start at age
11 when we came to the United States. Those were traumatic years in my life, and I have often talked about them, so my memories from that time are much more clear.
We came to the United States to Texas in 1985, during a recession. My parents found jobs at a factory for 3 dollars and 35 cents per hour.
We were very poor and since we didn’t speak English we were often mistreated. We didn’t have a car and my mom had to walk for over an hour to work and back, sometimes even at night. Bad things happened at work and during her walks home, and soon my mother was laid off from work.
Things were not happy at home either. Due to the stresses of living in a new country my father became very verbally, emotionally, and even physically abusive. It was around this time that my mother started telling me about the people that were always following her.
I was very intrigued and somewhat scared at first. But soon my mother began to tell me about chips in the walls and in the phone that were recording our voices and filming our movements. Not long after that, she told me about devices implanted in her head and chest that caused her terrible pain and tormented her. Daily she screamed and cried because of her fear and pain. I felt scared and hopeless. I wanted to help my mother but I did not know how.
Often I escaped from the house to hang out with shabby “friends”. My associations with them and their ways made me even more depressed, and I began to pray that I would just die.
Then one day as my sister and I were watching TV, we saw a commercial about Another Testament of Jesus Christ called the Book of Mormon. We were very intrigued that a book, other than the Bible, claimed to have an account of the appearance of Jesus. My sister asked me to call the number on the screen and order the book, but I insisted that she do it. Sometime later my sister and I found out that we both had called and ordered the book without either of us knowing that the other one of us called as well.
Katie, My Missionary
Three years after arriving in United States, one miserable yet sunny day, I heard a knock on the door. When I opened the door I saw two beautiful young ladies smiling at me. The said that they had come to deliver the Book of Mormon and asked if they could stay and teach me about the gospel of Jesus Christ. As they came in and began to talk, my sister came out of the bedroom, and as we listened, Kinga and I began to do something we hadn’t done in three years. We began smiling. When the lovely missionaries left, my sister and I commented to each other how our cheeks hurt from smiling because we had not used those smiling muscles for so long and because we could not stop smiling. That was the first time in my life that I felt the calming and the gladdening power of the Holy Ghost.
Katie Phelps (now Katie Kunzelman) was one of my missionaries who introduced me to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. But she was much more than just my missionary. She was my friend and mentor and she even included me in her family. When it was time for me to get baptized, she called her father in California to come out to Texas and perform the baptism.
When Katie ended her mission and went to college in Utah, she invited me and my sister to come live with her and her new husband, so that we could have a safe peaceful home to grow up in. Katie’s family sent money to buy us nice clothes to replace the ragged Heavy Metal T-shirt we wore before joining the church. When I finally came out to Utah a few years later, Katie had moved, and I was homeless sleeping in my car. Katie’s sister, Sam, took me into her home where I lived with her and her husband for a while.
I sometimes wonder why God has always taken notice of me and my needs.
At a time when my mother was “unavailable” to teach and nurture me,
God sent others to mother me. God first commissioned Katie to teach
and nurture me and set my life on the path of happiness. Though my
circumstances did not change immediately, gone were my hopelessness and despair.
Sister Pieper, My Visiting Teacher
After living in Texas for three miserable years, my family moved to Falls Church Virginia, near the Washington DC area. My father was hoping to find a job in the east, where the economy was slightly better. He began to work in construction and he managed to pay the bills. I was 14 years old and a new member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. Whenever a new person joins this church, the old time church members are assigned to fellowship the new member.
Diana Pieper was assigned to care for me and for my sister Kinga. We called Diana Pieper, Sister Pieper, as is the custom in our church to call everyone brother and sister, especially your elders.
Sister Pieper served us far beyond her call of duty. She loved and cared for us much like a mother. Often we ate at her house and sat around and talked about our lives. Sister Pieper was the first person who told us that we lived in a dysfunctional house and that our life was not ideal. This really surprised me because I always assumed that everyone lived in a place where they felt worried, nervous, and scared.
Once, some friends and I gathered over at sister Pieper’s house for a bike ride. During the bike ride I flipped over my handle bars and landed on a gravel path on my face. I was pretty beat up and in danger of a concussion. Sister Pieper drove me to the hospital and proceeded to call my parents. I was terrified. I did not want my father to know about my accident, because it was his habit to hit us and scream at us whenever we got hurt. In order to treat me in the hospital, however, my father had to be notified. When I told sister Pieper about my fears, she was not afraid. She called my father and explained to him how he was allowed to act at the hospital. She also took me into her home so that I could recuperate in a safe place.
When I got home a few days later, I was no longer afraid; I knew that I could always flee to sister Pieper’s, and that sister Pieper had warned my father not to act violently.
Sister Pieper also helped us to get rid of many of my mother’s cats.
A lot of mentally ill women collect cats. My mom started out with just one cat, Muszka, but Muszka kept getting pregnant and multiplying. We lived in a 1 bedroom apartment with 4 people and 7 cats. My father refused to contribute any money for the cat litter and often the cats peed on our clothes or on the floor. Sometimes I smelled like cat urine at school.
During this time my mother was very mentally ill. She was home most of the day screaming and caring for her cats. She was very attached to all of her cats and would not let us give them away. So sister Pieper, my sister Kinga, and I came up with a plan to get rid of the cats.
It was my job to throw a cat out the window in the split second when my mother wasn’t watching. My sister Kinga’s job was to catch the cat at the bottom of our 3 story apartment building, and run with the cat to the parking lot. Sister Pieper’s job was to sit in a running car and to drive off as soon as a cat was deposited into her back seat.
The plan worked beautifully. Over the next few months we got rid of all the cats, except for Muszka, my mom’s first and favorite cat.
Sister Pieper also taught me how to drive and helped me buy a car.
She did this just in time, because soon after I got my car, my father announced that he had found a girlfriend that he would be moving in with her. He told us that my mother and I would have to find another place to live. I was 16 years old at that time. My sister Kinga, who was 18, had moved to Utah several months earlier to live with Katie.
When I prayed to the Lord to find out where I should go, I felt that I needed to move to Utah as well.
While I was packing my car to head to Utah with my mother and her cat, my father showed up to inquire where we were going. I told him we were going to Utah. He said that if we were traveling that far, that we probably needed gas money, so he gave me 600 dollars. I was set to continue on my journey.
Sandy, Who Took Me In
My mother and I never made it to Utah in one piece. In Dinosaur, Colorado, my mom decided that the mafia was much too powerful in the state of Utah. She claimed that if she crossed the border into Utah, the Mormons would persecute her and liquefy her brain. So my mother fled from the car and started living homeless on a desert hill in Craig, Colorado (to make a very long story short).
Meanwhile my sister Kinga has signed us up for Girl’s Camp in Provo, Utah. I thought that was ridiculous. We had just been camping out for several weeks in Colorado trying to convince my mother to come with us to Utah, with no success. But to Girls’ Camp we went, thanks to my sister, and that’s where we met Sandy.
Sandy loved us and wanted to mother us from the night she first heard me speak about my life. When she came home from camp, she asked her husband Steve and her four sons if it would be ok if she invited us to live with them. They unanimously agreed, even though they had a small house and were struggling financially.
For the first time in my life I had the opportunity to live in a functional home with a loving and peaceful family. The lessons that I learned in Steve and Sandy’s home will forever be priceless. Each day we stared with prayer and scripture study, each night we read books and stayed up and talked about our day. Each Monday we enjoyed family time, and each Sunday, Steve baked a dozen loafs bread to eat, and each Saturday we did our chores and gardened together as a family.
Then one night we got a call. It was my mother calling to say goodbye because she was starving to death on the streets of Denver, Colorado.
My sister and I quickly jumped in the car and drove to find her. When we saw her, she was half dead. Her skin was burnt by sun, her body was slim and withered, and she could hardly move. This time she did not have strength to protest as we drove her to Utah to Sandy’s house.
Sandy nourished my mother back to health. Buts as my mother’s physical strength returned, so did the devils that tormented her mind.
She screamed and raved all day and night, and Sandy’s family had to hide at their neighbors’ homes to get some peace.
I prayed to the Lord for direction, and He told me to take my mother back to Poland. So at the age of 17, I left the comforts of Sandy’s home, and with my mother I flew to Poland to find healing. But that’s another story.
As I struggled in Poland to survive, one thought always brought me comfort. In Utah I had a family, and another mother Sandy who loved me and prayed for me.
My Mother’s Example
After enduring many trials and tribulations in Poland, my mother had a priesthood blessing that was administered by some missionaries from my church. In the blessing my mother was promised that the devils that had possessed her mind would leave and that she would be blessed to function. Ever since that blessing, my mother has gotten better every day of her life.
She now holds a job, owns a house, and cultivates a garden. Sometimes she is even grateful for her unfulfilled dreams because she says that her life has enabled her to have faith in God and that she has developed gratitude for the things she has been blessed with.
Even though during a long period of my life my mother was sick, she has always been a great example to me. I will list just a couple of examples.
A few years ago my mother went to Poland for two years to take care of her aging mother. I rented out some of the rooms in my house, so that I could send her $200 or $300 per month to live on. She told me that was sufficient and that she was getting along fine. A friend of mine, however, went to visit my mom in Poland and reported that my mom lived in dire conditions. Even though her apartment was clean and new, it
did not have a single piece of furniture. My mom slept on a tile
floor. She also had very little food. I was outraged and I called my mother to ask why she was living so poorly. She told me that she had run into a childhood friend with a lung disease who was out of work, as was his wife. They had a child and they were starving. Also, they could not afford to buy coal to heat their home in the winter. My mother had saved every penny that she could from what I sent her to buy food and coal for this family. Every month she would help them, because she said they were much more needy than she. To this day, my mom buys the yearly supply of coal for this family.
Another time my sister Kinga, had her brother in law, Brad, staying with her. Brad has had a hard life himself, and for a long time he was a drifter. He was not very responsible and lived with one friend after another. Brad also smoked and had a Mohawk, and many body piercings and tattoos. While he was living with my sister, Kinga and I often resented him for his lack of motivation and we often complained about him. But never my mother. She always loved him and said that deep down he is a good person. For Christmas she invited him to her house and bought him presents. I was shocked. It never occurred to me to show that much kindness to this poor lost soul. But right away it occurred to my mother…
It is clear that God esteems mothers above all others, because to them he entrusts the care of his children. Often when our natural mothers are not available, God puts other women in our path to mother us. I will always be grateful to Him for my mother and for her example, and for the other mothers in my life.
Sylwia Hardman
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[...] hope some art lights your fire. To participate in the carnival, enter your name and (description) and post address so we can read all about it. Or leave it in a [...]
[...] you have some father story to share (not necessarily about your own father). To participate in the carnival, enter your name and (description) and post address so we can read all about it — and tell [...]
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