It’s been almost 9 years since my beautiful mother went to heaven. I think of her often with such joy and gratitude. In my day to day living, even little things can stimulate remembrances of her that make me smile, or remind me of her wisdom, her indomitable spirit, upbeat attitude, her courage, her deep love for my dad and I—and for life itself.
There are days when I miss her more than words can express. It is only my heart that knows the depth of longing at those times.
On some occasions, my inner child, the little girl Anthea, simply yearns for her Mummy. Truthfully it’s been one of those weeks, the longing for her magnified by the approach of Mother’s Day. A hug, a touch, a reassuring word. A few minutes to sit on a quiet bench and chat about life in all its glory. Imagine that. A mother and great grandmother in her own right, still needing her mom. A successful, independent businesswoman, and to some, a tower of strength, pining for Mother!
No matter our age and stature, will we always miss our moms? At times, do we desperately need them? I certainly hope so. A loving mother with a powerful impact on her child can never be forgotten. She is imprinted in the soul of her offspring. In our hearts we hear her whisper words of wisdom, comfort and hope.
My mother loved flowers, those she cultivated in her own garden, but also wildflowers of all varieties. There was always a vase of fresh cut flowers in our home.
As a child I delighted in gathering primroses, bluebells and other wildflowers from the nearby fields and woodlands. A posy especially for Mum, presented with love. And, oh the unbridled joy that simple gift bestowed. Rejoice in the meaningful little things.
Today, after several weeks of busyness, and this past week’s slew of unexpected challenges, I picked up my brushes and completed the watercolor paintings of primroses and bluebells that you see above. Flowers for my beloved mother. I love you Mum. xo
Happy Mother’s Day 2024 to mothers everywhere.
And why do you worry about clothes? See how the flowers of the field grow. They do not labor or spin. Matthew 6:28