My mom grew up during the Great Depression. It was a time of much change in the country. Not only was a World War raging across the sea, but women were put to work in factories. Up until then, they were considered the help mate of the head of the house. But since so many young men had enlisted, this was young women’s way of sharing in the war effort.

To honor moms on just one day, seems inadequate. The profession of homemaker and mother kind of went out with the Brady Bunch and Father Knows Best, when perfectly dressed women went through the tasks that kept the home fires burning without compensation. Personally I think the stay-at-home moms fizzled out with the fight for women’s rights.

My own mother went to work in the professional world when her kids were in high school, giving my sister and me the tasks of developing our homemaking skills. Because of that training, we were able to manage a home and a job when the time came. She still had time to instill other values within us. She was the buffer between us and our dad. She answered questions he couldn’t answer. She stood up for us when he was unreasonable. She wasn’t a stranger to discipline however. I remember her chasing me around the house to spank me with a hairbrush. She finally caught me and with the first swat, the hairbrush broke. We both laughed over that.

She taught me that laughter was important to the soul. She didn’t leave out the fact that God was in charge of our lives. We were just on loan to her until we grew up. She was a lovely woman, always dressed to the nines, hair styled and eyebrows in place. She would get out of bed early so she could apply them. She loved everyone and found the best in even those who weren’t especially loveable.

When my father passed away at the age of 61, she was a widow. She was only 58. She remarried and moved with her new husband to Florida. He was considerably older than her, but he kept her busy with her new life. They traveled and took part in many activities offered to them. Eventually, age caught up with him and mom became his caregiver. When he passed, she began to take care of herself, which included doctoring for her own many maladies. That led to a dependence on pain killers and eventual addiction to the

My sister helped to sell her home and car. She paid to have all her belongings shipped to my home. I was glad to provide a place for her to live. The first few months were difficult as we weaned her off the meds, but after a year or so, she was capable of getting her own apartment and taking care of herself. She was almost the same age as I am now.

In thinking of my own situation right now, I have the greatest respect for this woman. She endowed me with her bright spirit, her compassion, her laughter, her love. I am especially grateful that she introduced me to my Savior at an early age

Words can’t convey my gratitude for those last years of her life. It was like going home.