One amazing woman

When I was a little girl, I loved to look at the pictures of my mom holding each of us older three girls (Sara, Tasha, and myself) when we were babies. We each had a picture album dedicated to our growing moments--but the pictures I loved to look at the most were Mom with a newborn baby in her arms. For some reason, I love the one of her with Sara the most, because her hair was long and curled under at the ends. She was someone I didn't know despite the familiar smile.

Almost all my early memories of my mom include sewing--either her at the machine, or us in some of her matching creations. I have always been very proud of the fact that my mother was a master seamstress. It seems to be a dying art, but I loved that she smocked, tated, knit, and sewed. She is a woman of many trades. In my young eyes (and heck, in my eyes still), there was nothing my mother couldn't do. Even when I was old enough to not want to wear matching clothes with my sisters, I was proud that for so long I could, because of my mother's talent.

When we lived in the Meinhardt house (and perhaps before, and perhaps even now, buried in her closet) my mom had a pair of red high heels. I used to loved to sneak out those heels and teeter-totter my way around the house. I thought they were so classy, so stunning. I would wait for the Sunday when she would pull them out and put them on--proud of her long thin legs with that stylish heel at the end.

It used to be that my mom collected watermelon things. I don't know that she did it on purpose, or because she liked red and had a nick-knack or two with watermelons on them. Either way, friends started buying her more. The real truth is that it started with red. This is one of my favorite things that I share with my mom: a deep and abiding love for red. She told me once that she doesn't counciously remember choosing red as her favorite color, she has just always been drawn to. She would walk into a store and gravitate toward the red sweaters. Her kitchen has always been red (I still have the remaining red dishes from her first kitchen) and now most of the house is red--especially her bedroom with her big red chair and red patchwork quilt bedspread. I don't remember if I started liking red because my mom did, or if my liking it showed her that it was her favorite color too, but we are red-partners-in-crime. It is fun to go shopping together because we just want to buy red!

Speaking of shopping, my mom is a one-of-a-kind shopper. I LOVE coming home because I love shopping with her. She just has a eye for finding good stuff. She has boundless energy and knows how to come home with the perfect purchase. (Especially from Barnes and Nobles. She is fantastic taste in the books and I love how quickly and easily she fills up her shelves.)

Not only does she has energy for all types of shopping, but she basically has energy for EVERYTHING. She is a worker. If there is anything I have learned from her, it is to go, go, go. She doesn't stop. Give her a project or an assignment, and there is an absolute guarantee that it will be done, and done well. She is 100% committed to whatever she says she will do. She does not do anything half baked: it is all or nothing. And the truth is, I can't think of many things she doesn't or won't do. She balances multiple (big and involved, ward and stake) callings simultaneously with staying on top of all of us (emailing, calling, sending amazing packages), working (as a substitute teacher), singing in a double quartet (Crescendo), reading new books, keeping the house and yard in order, and doing things for others.

Not only does she do everything, she has a talent for making all things beautiful. I love coming home at Christmas time because the house is filled with nativities, trees, twinkling lights, and the smells of homemake caramels and cinnamon rolls. She loves holidays, birthdays, and special occasions. And she makes them special, each and every one.

My mom loves to give gifts. She loves to figure out just what someone would want, or makes something special by hand that demonstrates her love. I always look forward to packages and gifts from her because I know they are evidence of her love and care. They are always wrapped beautifully and magically and mysteriously filled with something wonderful, no matter small or large.

Not only with formal gifts or occasions does she make things special, but all the time. I love just spending time with her, whether it is sitting in the sewing room while she works on a project, running errands, making dinner together, talking on the phone, or spending quiet time with a book in the same room: I love spending time with her. She is a tower of strength, an example of goodness and commitment and work and discipleship. She has taught me what it means to build a home by love and example. I feel honored and privileged to be in her life, and to get to learn from her, and to call her Mother.

And today is her (1/2) birthday. Happy Birthday, Mom! Oh, how I love you!

PS. for those of you who know my mom, you know I just scratched the surface here, please forgive me for the handfuls of talents and skills and gifts that I have left out! (basket weaving, soap making, wedding planning, singing, violin playing, baseball watching, bread making...)