A Son's Tribute to his Mother

Hello everyone.

We received a call from our daughter early this morning to inform us that my mother passed away Monday night (Tuesday morning here).

Mom suffered a stroke about eight years ago and has had increasing struggles ever since. She was a strong woman who worked hard all her life to take care of herself and us. She had many heartbreaking experiences in life, but never complained about them much. Mostly she just bore the pain and worked to do the best she could with the situations she faced. I had been a grown man for several years before I really began to realize what all she had endured and to appreciate the grace with which she bore her hardships. She lived in faith and faithful quietness, enjoying the happy times and struggling through the painful ones.

I cannot imagine the agony a mother of four would experience when she became convinced that she could not provide for her children by herself. In the days when few social services were available to single mothers and women's work paid much less than the men's, few options were open to her. She could have married again after my father abandoned her and his children. Maybe there was not the hope or trust necessary to believe that another husband would be anymore helpful than the last. But the grueling work in the cotton mills day after day, and the incessant needs of four little ones, took its toll. Mom faced a future with no good options on the horizon. Others may criticize her choice. Likely they have never felt her fear for children she loved or for her own sanity. She arranged for us to live at Childhaven, a children's home in north Alabama, just two hours away. She moved closer so that we could visit often. Lee Brock, the superintendent's wife we have always called "Mother Lee," pointed out to me a few years ago what I had never realized: Of all the dozens of children that had lived there, no other parent ever came regularly to visit with their children. Mom came ever other weekend. My father came once during my twelve years. Some may think placing us at Childhaven was an act of self-indulgence. I think it was an act of self-sacrifice. She was not seeking deliverance for herself but salvation for her children. And she paid an awful price for it. But it worked. All of her children are Christians and have established stable, happy homes. The cycle has been broken. In that Mom found joy and some peace from the agony of being separated from us so much for all those years. As adults none of us has ever harbored any resentment toward her for the decision she made. We have always loved her and held her in great respect.

Having been blessed so much myself with a loving and supportive partner, I always longed for Mom to have had the same. But she experienced little of that. First my father, and later my stepfather, both of whom could be very pleasant fellows at times, took much more than than they gave to Mom. She never expressed regret, much less anger toward either of them, and wanted to appear that it did not hurt or sadden her. But it has always been painful for me to think of the stress she bore and the love she was denied in both marriages. The strength of her character and self-discipline kept her on a steady, non-complaining, responsible course. But I fear it was far more lonesome than you would ever get her to admit.

Before her stroke, when she had retired and moved back to the farm where she grew up. She seemed to find a contentment that had often alluded her before. She loved the country around Deason, a small crossroads farming community in middle Tennessee. Many of the people who had been young adults when she was a youngster were still living, though now long time senior citizens. But they were her kind of people and this was home as no place else had ever been. So when she the stroke made it hard, even dangerous, for her to live alone in the country, it was still the only place she wanted to be. These were the people she understood. They were the people with whom she was safe and loved. Only with the greatest pain and sadness did she finally decide she could not remain there alone. But from the first day she left the farm to live in the comfort and supportive environment of "assisted living" she never stopped saying she "just wanted to go home."

Now she has gone home where all the pain and struggle are forever behind her. At last she is in the presence of no one who will take more from her than they give. I look forward to being with her again and, as never before, seeing her completely happy.

Evelyn and I leave in a few hours to return join our family in the US for a few days of mourning and celebration. Funeral plans are still pending.