Mom and Music

Mom has loved to sing (and music in general) her whole life. She definitely was the one who instilled the same love in me.

When I was 10 or so, she let me sing a version of Mary's "Magnificat" at our church's Christmas Pageant, in front of the congregation. She was there without fail for every elementary school concert, every intermediate school concert, and every high school concert.

Even though I went to college 4.5 hours away, she even managed to attend most of my college concerts. And she's attended 90% of my post-college concerts. (It's like she's my own personal cheerleading section!) Perhaps that's why I feel like I'm singing to her (or with her) almost every time I sing.

She can't sing at all anymore, these past few years, due to a combination of physical concerns. A severe thorn in the flesh for her. So to me, it's even more important that I sing well...it's almost like I'm singing for her as well as me.

But that means that even more of my emotions are involved than usual when I sing, especially gorgeous songs about love or gardens or flowers...

O God...please give me the strength to sing well...for her and for You.

"Praise Arms" from Bible Gateway

 

Yessir, that's my mama.

Typing on a Manual Typewriter

Mom went to secretarial school a few years after she graduated high school. Since she graduated in 1945, school was probably sometime in the late 1940s, or possibly early 1950s.

Even in the 1970s and 1980s she could type 80-90 words a minute.

On a manual typewriter.

I can still "hear" the sound of her typing some committee report or whatever, sitting at the dining room table after supper.

Honestly, it sounded like a machine gun going off.

Church Volunteering

Definition of the 20%: Marion E. Boyce

Something Old and Something Blue

It was the morning of November 25th, 1995. My wedding day.

I still lived at home, and as I was finishing up getting ready in my bedroom in the late morning, Mom came in and asked me to sit down on my bed with her so she could show me something.

In her hand was a GORGEOUS bracelet, made of silver and tiny blue sapphires. She told me that it was my grandmother Amelia Moger's bracelet, given to her by her soon-to-be husband as a courting gift, circa early 1920s.

Then Mom fastened it on my wrist, and told me that it was her wedding gift to me:

Something old and something new,

Something borrowed and something blue.

The Last to Leave

I wrote before about Mom's philosophy, "Early = On Time."

It didn't extend to leaving places early. Especially church.
We were almost always early, like I wrote previously. Well, she knew everyone (or so it seemed). And everyone knew her. So she would talk to them. And they would talk to her.

In the process of all this talking people would meander (slooooowly) toward the exits. Meanwhile us kids (or maybe just me) would be shifting from foot to foot, getting more impatient by the minute, waiting and waiting and WAITING for her to be done.

I would think to myself, "If I ever have children I'm NOT gonna do this to them!"

Riiiiiiiight. Ask my almost-9-year-old how often we leave immediately after the church service, and she'd probably say, "Never!"

Mirror, mirror, on the wall - I've become my mother after all!
(Don't worry; this is a good thing if true. Actually, a great thing.)

On Time = Early

As far back as I remember, Mom's idea of arriving on time meant that we were 15 minutes early almost everywhere we went. 
I specifically remember lots of times during Sunday School especially that we kids arrived before the teacher did. Talk about awkward!

On the other hand, it's been a valuable lesson throughout my life about allowing more than enough time to get to a destination, building in time for unscheduled/unexpected/unavoidable delays.

Thanks, Mom!