A Letter from her daughter, Marquette
Dear Mom,
¶I should have written this letter years ago, but …. I didn't. I hope that you
understand. For the past several months, I've been doing a lot of thinking about
who my mother really was and what, besides life, she had imparted to me. Quite a
lot, actually.
The mom I knew never really had it very easy. From childhood through her senior
years, she faced life head on as it was — and it posed her some daunting
challenges. I never heard my mother complain or whine about her situation, I
never knew her to do a job halfway. I never knew her to give up. These are
things I somehow never noticed as I was growing up. I guess I thought all moms
were like that. I was wrong.
Mom, thank you for being my mother and for being the woman you were.
My mother was someone who could make breakfast a treat with pancake men, and
holidays — even the not-so-important ones — special. I inherited my love of
holidays and special days from you and my understanding that it takes only the
smallest of efforts to make things special. Whether it was a mini-Whitman's
sampler for Valentine's Day, a jelly-bean filled egg shell sporting a hand-drawn
cartoon character in my Easter basket, or a simple card, Mom, you made all of
those special days just that — special.
Mom, thank you for giving me a love of holidays and an appreciation for the
little things that give life so much meaning.
My mother seemed to always indulge her kids' love of animals. As far back as I
can remember, we always had dogs and cats, and often fish and birds, to boot. It
wasn't until the last several years though, that I realized that Mom wasn't just
indulging her kids; she loved all of those animals just as dearly as we did.
Mom, thank you for giving me the love of and a love for animals. My life just
wouldn't be the same without them.
My mother was someone who made the best of what she had. When she'd alter Pat's
hand-me-downs for me to wear, she did more than just take up or let down hems.
She inserted plackets, panels and ruffles to disguise the alterations. She once
sewed patches on my tennis shoes the night before I went to camp. She didn't
just sew patches where there were holes; she sewed them all over both shoes, so
it looked like a design — and thus was born my penchant for eccentric footwear.
Mom, thank you for teaching me to think outside the box, and the joy of going
beyond just getting the job done.
My mother wasn't what you would call a reader. It took her a long time to get
through a book. Reading was a struggle for her. Yet, our house was always full
of books, and she raised four children with voracious appetites for print.
Mom, thank you for opening up the world of books to me.
My mother wasn't what you would call an academic, either. In fact, I don't think
she thought she was really very smart. Yet, I had a lot of trouble keeping up
with her at Trivial Pursuit, and I don't recall ever beating her! With all my
schooling, I still didn't hold a candle to her life smarts. She also never met a
task she couldn't take on. If something needed doing, she'd learn how to do it.
Mom, thank you for teaching me to learn not just from books, but from everything
that comes my way every day.
My mother never made it out of North America, to my knowledge. Yet, I credit her
with my wanderlust and love of culture. Although she never traveled to very
exotic places, she also never belittled cultural or social differences. She did
her best to learn about the people she encountered and to accept each one for
his- or herself. She treated people with respect.
Mom, thank you for teaching me to respect others no matter how different they
may seem to be. I could not have managed so many years abroad without that.
My mother always thought I was a pretty tough cookie. And, I must admit, I give
the impression of being pretty assertive, if not out-and-out aggressive. When at
the age of five, I quite happily took off on a two-week trip to Louisiana with
Perry Gilmore and his aunt and uncle, I know I shocked my mother to the core.
One thing I don't think she may have ever realized was that the only reason I
could do that (or stand up to bullies who were terrorizing my sister) was
because of the secure home she had created for me.
Mom, thank you for giving me the security to travel and explore, through that,
you gave me the life I've chosen to lead.
My mother always endeavored to be a good and virtuous, godly woman. If the
description given in Proverbs is the measure:
¶10A wife of noble character who can find? She is worth far more than rubies.
¶11Her husband has full confidence in her and lacks nothing of value. 12She
brings him good, not harm, all the days of her life. 13She selects wool and flax
and works with eager hands. 14 She is like the merchant ships, bringing her food
from afar. 15She gets up while it is still dark; she provides food for her
family and portions for her servant girls. 16She considers a field and buys it;
out of her earnings she plants a vineyard. 17She sets about her work vigorously;
her arms are strong for her tasks. 18She sees that her trading is profitable,
and her lamp does not go out at night. 19In her hand she holds the distaff and
grasps the spindle with her fingers. 20She opens her arms to the poor and
extends her hands to the needy. 21When it snows, she has no fear for her
household; for all of them are clothed in scarlet. 22She makes coverings for her
bed; she is clothed in fine linen and purple. 23Her husband is respected at the
city gate, where he takes his seat among the elders of the land. 24She makes
linen garments and sells them, and supplies the merchants with sashes. 25She is
clothed with strength and dignity; she can laugh at the days to come. 26 She
speaks with wisdom, and faithful instruction is on her tongue. 27She watches
over the affairs of her h ousehold and does not eat the bread of idleness. 28Her
children arise and call her blessed; her husband also, and he praises her:
29"Many women do noble things, but you surpass them all." 30Charm is deceptive,
and beauty is fleeting; but a woman who fears the LORD is to be praised. 31Give
her the reward she has earned, and let her works bring her praise at the city
gate. Proverbs 31:10-31 (New International Version)
¶then Mom, I think you were just that.
My mom was frugal and stoic, artistic and talented, hard-working and loving. She
could be stern, and on occasion, she could even be quite silly. She was a tiny
dynamo.
Mom, I will miss you — especially in the details.
Love,
Marquette
RETURN TO CAROL LOWTHER
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