Sept. 17

Last week was my Mom's birthday—Sept. 17th, in fact. By some sheer miracle of God, I managed to send two birthday cards to her (one from Noah, one from me/David) that actually reached her mailbox on the big day. In the fog of my conference preparations in the weeks prior to the 17th, I even found a few moments to coordinate her birthday gift with my siblings.

In an ordinary year, I would be pleased with myself for those efforts. In fact, my batting average in birthday greeting timeliness is .200 ish. So then by comparison, I'm ahead of the curve this time around.

But this year, I feel like I owe my Mom so much more. I have noticed that our relationship has taken a subtle, but amazing turn in the last 12–16 months. Just like they say you never know love like when you have your own child (and they're right!), I would argue that the love between a mother and daughter takes on a whole new meaning when a grandchild is born.

I don't remember a time when I didn't love my mom with my whole heart. I'm certain there were some ugly days when I was a sassy 12–19-year-old. But even in my mouthiest moments, I warmly and openly loved being my mom's daughter.

You see, my mom is a neat person. She's got a little MacGyver in her in the way she can make a game or a teaching opportunity out of seemingly nothing. We could spend a rainy day in perfect contentment with just a deck of cards and some jacks. And an ordinary walk down our tar-covered country road turned into a lesson in tree/flower names.

So much of what we did together growing up was simple...and fun! I swear we walked next door to my neighbor's pond every day in the summer for a quick swim. And once August rolled around, out came the food strainer. My sister and I would help my mom can tomatoes and applesauce. As long as the bees didn't find us (at which point my whining grew loud and obnoxious), I was secretly fascinated with my task—scraping the thick pulp that collected at the top of the strainer.

Growing up in my mom's domain was like majoring in Home Economics. My sister and I both learned how to sew (good 'ole 4-H), how to cook...from scratch (even though I don't do much of it now, I do appreciate the lesson!), how to properly fold a towel (there is no better way!), how and why to launder your sheets and hang them OUTSIDE to dry (nothing smells better), how to plant a garden and can its bounty, and how to properly clean a room (which I seemed to have lost somewhere along the way). In this day and age, I think it's hard to find a mom who can do all that, and I feel lucky to have had the opportunity to learn from the best!

Those lessons, all taught with love, would have been enough. But in the last year and a half, my mom has given me even more.

When I learned I was pregnant with Noah, she embraced my good news full-out with me, even though it meant she'd have to wait even longer for her first granddaughter. When Noah was born, my mom sat on one side of my bed and David took up the other. She and David talked me through the pain of childbirth and then Mom celebrated with us when we finally could hold our new bundle of joy.

In the 15 months since Noah's birth, my mom has rescued me several times—taking Noah on overnights, helping me clean my house before his first birthday party, taking turns keeping Noah from destroying things at family gatherings, traveling with me to San Antonio to watch him during my company's annual conference, you name it.

Through these experiences, I feel like we've grown closer. Something happens when a mother and daughter can share labor room war stories and trade secrets for fighting diaper rash. There is a camaraderie now that didn't—and couldn't—exist before.

I can remember feeling a little envious of the relationship my sister had with my Mom once she started having kids. They began talking almost daily and seemed to have an ease in their relationship they never had before.


And now it's my turn, and it's so darn exciting. I love that my relationship with my Mom continues to change—for the better!

I wish I could thank her enough for what she's done for me in all of my 30 years, and especially the never-ending list of things she's given me in the last few years. If I were rich, I'd send her on a well-deserved get-a-way to Ireland or some other exotic destination. Since I haven't yet found that money tree, I hope she can settle for a belated birthday blog and all my love and thanks for everything she is and everything she will be. I love you, Mom!