Mothers (Part 2)

Growing up, I was enamored by the idea of a self made man, of being dependent on no one.  I fancied myself self-educated, at least, because all of my reading as a child garnered far more of an education than my experience during formal schooling.  It was not until I reached college that I learned how foolish my thinking was.  It seems simple, but I've come to understand that many of the kids I went to school with didn't necessarily have anyone telling them that it was time for bed, or were coming into school hungry, or who didn't have anyone at home providing constant encouragement, or emotional support.  Some probably dealt with environments that were emotionally crippling.  My grammar and secondary school days look drastically different without the love and emotional stability my home provided. 

It sounds so trite that the opening paragraph of a tribute to one's mom be that "she provided me with the things moms should provide to their children," but the fact of the matter is, that is a herculean task that Mom performed above and beyond the call.  Mom worked a full time job, came home and made sure we were well fed, and kept order in a house with two children doing their best to turn the home into a swirling vortex of entropy. (Editor's note: for those readers who don't have a physics or chemistry degree entropy is a term that means gradual into disorder within a system.)  Her insistence on a steady bed time, love, and meals resulted in her son developing a tall, strong frame; her bedtime stories and help learning to read led to a lifelong love of learning that has served me well both personally and professionally.

She was instrumental in my spiritual instruction; my Sunday school teachers dreaded having me in class because there was a good chance I was already familiar with the lesson material and would correct them should they get anything wrong.  As hard as it may be to believe, I am not always the easiest person to be around, all the more so during those formative years where the self control thing was still being learned, yet she loved me through it.

I was a sensitive child, and there were a lot of tears through those early years; but Mom saw me through them.  There were some pretty big triumphs during those years too; she rejoiced with me.  To this day, she is there in my trials and triumphs.  Omnia Vincit Amor.