My Mother.

     Sitting at the dinner table, I held the letter in my hand.  I can remember feeling disappointment run through my soul as I re-read every word of rejection. It wasn't anything big I applied for; it was just a little something I had set my heart on doing. I felt God was calling me to spend a week serving.  But after being gently declined, I felt like the door closed abruptly. I sighed. Hiding my discontented feelings from my family, I whipped the frown off my face and stuffed the letter back in the envelope. I didn't want to see it again. More than anything I wanted it to be out of my sight. I shoved it under a bunch of papers on the counter knowing that would solve my problem. It would get moved a few times and eventually end up in the trash.  I felt ashamed and quickly changed the subject; not wanting anyone to know how disappointed I really was.  


    Not much was said after dinner that night, everyone seemed to let it slide past their minds.  My mind raced around in circles as I lay in bed that night; worrying. Every time I thought of the letter, my heart sank.  Disappointed and depressed, I fell asleep.  I awoke the next morning only to be confronted with the same thoughts.  I quickly pulled out my Bible for my quiet time and pushed those thoughts aside.  The morning carried on as usual and I was far too busy to feel sorry for myself any longer.  It seemed to me that no one really cared anyway. I began to start the morning chores. I was in the middle of clearing off the stairs when I noticed I had a few books lying on the steps. I leaned to pick them up and caught sight of an envelope sticking out from within the pages.  Curiously, I took it out; only to discover that the letter I thought I had gotten rid of came back. I sighed. 
      "God just wants me to keep remembering this." I thought to myself.  I turned over the envelope, and to my surprise, there was writing on the back in pen. I looked closely; it was Mom's handwriting. It said,
      "God has bigger and better plans for you Kelle. Love you. Love, Mom." I sunk down on the steps; wallowing in myself.  Fighting back the tears, I knew she was right. I might have done a good job hiding my feelings, but Mom read right through me.  She knew what my heart was going through.  It's only something a mother and daughter can relate to. 

     I am thankful for my Mom. I am thankful for the way she encourages me and reminds me of my Father's love.  I appreciate her cooking and baking; cleaning and decorating.  I love how she can make our house so cozy when we come back in the evenings; all the candles lit and a plate of cookies on the counter.  She can make our house so inviting when people come over with just a few simple touches.  I love it that we can share our thoughts with each other.  I tell her what’s on my mind and she listens; even if it isn't of much importance.  I am thankful for her wisdom and insight into life.  I am so thankful for all that she has taught me; from history to science, to cooking and taking care of babies.  I like when we get good ideas, even if sometimes they don't turn out right.  I enjoy our shopping trips, our cleaning-out phases, and the little ways she makes money.  I can remember sitting on the widow seat in the summer, relaxing by the cool breeze through the window and the sound of Mom's voice as she read Little House on the Prairie to me.  She makes the best homemade bread, and is the smartest when it comes to eating healthy. She always seems to have an answer for my "health" questions.  I like it when she hangs the laundry outside on the line to dry; so clean and precise.  I like how she fixed our spice cabinet and pantry up with all the Mason jars. She finds some of the best deals in some of the best places.  I like it when my Dad mentions that he has a taste for a certain type of food, and the next day she will have made it for dinner.  I am thankful for all the sacrifices she made and still makes for us.  She mashed up food for me to eat after my Wisdom teeth surgery.  And also woke me up in the night to give me medicine so I wouldn't be in pain.  She was patient with me when I had the chicken pox and prayed over me every night.  She even rubbed Calamine lotion all over me (that stuff is just unpleasant).  Mom always makes things comfortable and homey.  


    She forgives me over and over when I mess up, and she still loves me.  She is my best friend.  I feel comfortable to come to her with any problem and pour out my heart. I am so thankful for the little things she does.  Sometimes I don't say it as often as I should.  Thankful God gave me my Momma.  (: 

    "Her children rise up and bless her; Her husband also, and he praises her, saying: “Many daughters have done nobly, But you excel them all.”Charm is deceitful and beauty is vain, But a woman who fears the Lord, she shall be praised. Give her the product of her hands, And let her works praise her in the gates." Proverbs 31:28-31