My Happy Mother’s Day

Okay, so, my Mother’s Day didn’t start off perfectly. Only one of my kids remembered to get up in time to make me my annual breakfast in bed. That was fine with me, although the others felt a little bad about it later. I enjoyed my breakfast, but I have to admit that for the most part, I was on the grumpy side a fair bit of the time, right through church and into the early afternoon. Not very kind of me, but the stress of various upcoming deadlines kept running around my brain, in spite of my best efforts. It’s a good thing my family loves me anyway, even through days like this.

gardening pic 4Mid-afternoon, it was time to gather at my parents’ house with my siblings and their families. We were planning to celebrate Mother’s Day with my parents, and I wasn’t sure who would be there, but as it turns out, six of us were there, along with spouses and thirteen grandchildren, so twenty-six all told–a pretty good turnout. This is the second year for the “family garden”, and our first year to officially get in on it. When we got there, my dad was just starting to dig some rows to put in pepper plants, and so the work began. Three hours later, we had planted an impressive area with potatoes, peppers, zucchini, tomatoes, herbs, parsnips, radishes, beets… the list goes on.

gardening pic 2Wait, that was just one of the gardens in the first picture… here’s the other one… Yes, I realize that it’s a little crazy. We lost count of how many rows were planted of tomatoes, peppers and potatoes. The idea of this gigantic garden is that all of us kids, and the grandkids, will work together to keep it clean and weed-free, and that we will enjoy the results of our labour together. I had this theory that it would be especially good for the “city kids” among the grandchildren, but it turns out that I didn’t get in a garden at all last year, so my family’s all in this year–it will be good for the “country kids” as well.

 

While we were working, talk inevitably turned to funny stories from growing up together in a house of eight kids. Just a couple:

“Remember how Mom used to sing ‘Goood mooooooorniiiiiing’ to wake us up for school?” Opinions varied as to whether it was endearing or annoying.

We talked about the countless times Dad kept us out working in the fields when serious summer storms were blowing in. “Remember how our hair would stand up because the lightning was getting so close?” “Remember that time we saw a funnel cloud drop down? We ran sooo hard!” My dad laughed along with us.

The comment from one of my kids while listening to the stories: “This is so much fun!” They loved hearing about our memories. And now I think my kids can say they know my family a little bit better than they did before, and enjoy their visits just a little bit more. My parents had a good idea here–it’s about more than just the garden.

gardening pic 3Once the work was done, it was time for supper, and what a supper it was! The table wasn’t even full yet when I took the picture. Topped off with ice cream cake for dessert, I’m pretty sure no one went home hungry. The meal seemed symbolic of all the blessings we take for granted–at least, I know I’m guilty of it at times. When I stop to think about it, I’m so grateful for this family that God trusted me to. I don’t get enough time to just enjoy them, and my parents work so hard, I’m sure they often feel the same way. My mom was definitely having fun being “Mémé” today. I wasn’t looking forward to planting the garden when I got up today, but it turned out to be a great way to get my worries in perspective, and just enjoy Mother’s Day.

 

 

Advertisements

Share Your Thoughts...

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s