As we walked around LACMA, she picked up some paper and pencils and then asked Jack and me to sit with her and sketch our favorite Picasso from the several in front of us. Though a bit reluctant, I figured Picasso was a safe bet, since if I messed up I could say it was on purpose. "He's supposed to be cross-eyed," I kept rehearsing. After about 15 minutes in, I started feeling pretty good about myself, until I glanced at my 11-year-old brother's creation and realized I should've just used crayons.
Then in a dumb hope I might still come in 2nd place, I snuck a peak at my mom's drawing pad. I was shocked. In 15 short minutes, she was effortlessly recreating Pablo's acclaimed work. Did I mention I've never seen the woman draw? After quickly hiding my own paper, I sat in amazement and watched her sketch away. When did she learn to pick up on all those details? And how does she know to shade like that? Who taught her these things? But away her pencil went like it knew exactly what to do. She must've felt me staring over her shoulder, cause she softly smiled back at me, then kept at it.
That's my mom for ya. Unaware of her own strengths.
But believe it or not, her talents exceed her creativity. And if you've ever stepped foot in her backyard, you know that's a bold statement. But I think if you know my mom, you'll agree - her best work has always been in her character.
She gives generously: of her time, her money, her talents, her love - and not just to her family and friends, but to everyone around her. Often to perfect strangers. She's the lady who winds up praying with the telemarketers, or quietly dropping off groceries for struggling families she barely knows, or giving of herself daily to take good care of my sweet grandpa, with no regard to the sacrifice.
Growing up, she took me on daring adventures with her as she followed God's tug on her heart, she would wake me up in the middle of the night (ok, 10:30pm) to have root beer floats and watch the Cosby's, and to think of all the pets she let me bring home...
To this day, she keeps enough food in the fridge to feed an army so guests always feel at home. And it should come as no surprise that she happens to collect instruments. Or that she'll likely be found handing you some obscure stringed noise maker, all while soliciting for a 13 piece band you never you knew you always wanted to be in. Ask anyone who's ever been over, they'll testify to great food, good conversation, a possible jam sess, and certainly lots of love from my mom. They'll probably mention the pretty fireplace too.
Her wisdom, compassion and kindness have always guided me through life and taught me what loving God honestly and people well looks like. Although I'm still a little bitter she kept the tall gene (and apparently the drawing gene!) to herself, I'm deeply thankful for the example she continues to paint for me.
Happy Birthday, Mom! May your strengths shine bright in your 52nd year. I love you!
Melly