It was 101 years ago today that Mom was born. She’s not still with us – she passed away in September, 1998 – several weeks before she turned 75. She lived 20 years past the time my father died at the age of 55 back in 1978. Ironically, her name has come up quite a bit recently.
As I wrote about within the last several weeks, her parent’s home was recently sold and the owners who have lived in it since the mid seventies didn’t do any maintenance on the home since they bought it. In other words, the home my grandparents built, as solid as it was, finally succumbed to neglect by a family that probably didn’t realize or care what a gem they had. I have been contacted by the new owner about helping with the restoration. Among other things, he was interested in who occupied each of the bedrooms and any associated history I could remember.
Mom grew up in that house and her best friend lived across the back yard on the next street over. Mom was one of a kind She was an only child, raised by parents who were dedicated to her and had very strong convictions about fairness and doing what was right. Both Grandma and Grandpa grew up with intense hardships. Grandpa’s mother died when he was about ten years old and Grandma’s mother died when Grandma was two. Those events, coupled with other tragedies in both their families, let my grandparents to raise Mom with advantages they were rare in the day.
Mom attended private schools, went to Northwestern University, was an only child and loved to ride horses. So much so that Grandpa bought a 1600 acre farm in Jonesville, Michigan where she could ride Tinkerbell, her favorite horse, without worry or concern about her safety. This was a common thread in Mom’s life since Grandpa was a prosecutor at a rather sketchy time in Chicago history where crime was very prevalent and threats were a common occurrence in his life.
Mom had a standard that has stayed with me to this day. She was a world class cook, always dressed to the “nines” and in my entire life I never saw her purchase anything off a rack in a store. All her clothes, from coats to slacks, to blouses, to dresses were all hand made by a tailor. I can’t even recount how many times I waited in the car while she ran some fabric up to the tailor’s office or spent a few minutes getting a fitting. I thought it was commonplace and it wasn’t until much later that I realized that Mom had led a privileged life.
Just like the fact that we had Hugh, Eloise and Mary all work for us at the house. Hugh had Eloise were married and did domestic work in our home. Mary was our ironing lady and I admit that I was the only kid in class who had handkerchiefs and underwear neatly pressed and folded. As I look back on it, it was undoubtedly over the top but I didn’t know any different. But the real stunner was the fact that my brother, Doug, and I were referred to as Master Scott and Master Douglas whenever we received birthday cards from our household help.
Dad had not been raised in the same type of environment as Mom. In fact, I think there were many times when he felt uncomfortable with Mom’s social status and upbringing. They were just very foreign to him. Dad was a down to earth guy. Undoubtedly, I am the epitome of being raised by both of them. I appreciated my father’s approachability and how he could interact with anyone. Mom, on the other hand, seemed to live in a world that Dad was rather unfamiliar with. There is no doubt in my mind that they loved one another, but I can also acknowledge that they were an unlikely couple. Both of them were fortunate to have found one another.
There are so many things that Mom did that helped form who I am today. She believed in excellence, maintaining your standards, attending church, loving and defending family – and taught me lessons from her own childhood such as reminding us that you only get one mother to a lifetime. After all, both of her grandmothers died at an early age and she had seen the difficulty that the family suffered in their absences. I saw the respect with which she addressed and obeyed, even as an older adult, her parents. She always referred to her father as “Daddy”, like someone from the south. It was clearly a sign of sincere endearment and respect. And when Dad passed away, Mom was the matriarch of our family, setting the tone for the next score of years until she entered heaven.
Even today, on the occasion of her 101st birthday, I still miss her. But I can rest in the knowledge that she is securely in heaven with her Savior and I will always have the memories of being her oldest child – a responsibility that I took very seriously. Even today, Doug and I, the two of us who are left, (our youngest brother Ken, died on Feb. 29, 2020) have a wonderful relationship that I cherish more than I can say. It is a testament to the way that she raised us.
Our verse for tonight comes from Proverbs, one of the books written by Solomon. He tells us, in Proverbs 31:28-29, “Her children arise and call her blessed; her husband also, and he praises her: “Many women do noble things, but you surpass them all.” My encouragement this evening is that God wants us to honor our parents. While it is true that not all of us had wonderful, Godly, parents, it is the wish of God that we would have people in our lives who could mirror those roles for those who have not been so fortunate. My prayer is that we will recognize those folks, genetic parents or not, who have had a profound influence on us in our formative years and whose memory we celebrate to this day. Happy Birthday, Mom – we love you and miss you. Have a great day in the Lord, grace and peace…