My Mother, the Saint

My mom is amazing. While raising her own five kids, ages 3-11, she did daycare in her home, adding 5-10 kids to the mix. She did this for 8 years, along with doing such things as teaching early morning seminary; gleaners-a welfare program where food was brought into our home (a pile of food so high in our living that I could swim in it)-so people in need could pick up food from us; she cooked and cleaned; she dealt with my brother who had ADHD, my other brother who has dyslexia, both of which ended up being homeschooled, and me and my copious amounts of energy. There were relatives that would stop by without notice, stay for dinner, ask for the last piece, my mother's piece, and when given it would just eat the whipping cream or top off of it. She dealt with a nearby mother-in-law who was controlling and not always the nicest person and who owned the home we lived in so she felt she had a say in what we did and after 8 years of us living there asked us to leave. There is so much more, it would take me ages to go through it all.

Now my mother, at age 62 1/2, should be able to relax and enjoy life with an empty nest, working in her garden (yes, she still does a garden every year). Instead, two of my older brothers still live at home and now that mother-in-law, at 82, is going to move in and be cared for by my mom. When we heard Granny had a stroke, my mother without hesitation said it would be fine for granny to live with them since they had the best layout where everything was on the same level and granny wouldn't have to worry about stairs.

There is a special place in heaven for my mother. And she said if there isn't, she'll just say "oh, hell" and swear on her way back past the pearly gates. See, she is amazing.