"As kingfishers catch fire, dragonflies draw flame; / [ . . . ] Each mortal thing does one thing and the same: / Deals out that being indoors each one dwells; / Selves -- goes itself; 'myself' it speaks and spells, / Crying 'What I do is me; for that I came'." --Gerard Manley Hopkins

24 December 2011

Happy Birthday

Ninety years ago on Christmas Day my mother was born, to become the middle of three children. Six years later their mother died, and shortly after, their father was diagnosed with tuberculosis and spent years in a TB sanitarium, not expected to recover. Mother and her two brothers were raised by her father’s mother (who had already raised twelve children of her own), with the help of some of their aunts. Each sibling, separately, also spent some time in the sanitarium, for treatment to prevent their also contracting the dreaded disease. They slogged their way through the depression selling eggs and taking in washing and feeding hobos who were willing to work for a meal. Their father was returned to them, well at last, but not until Mother was in high school. Her older brother, a pilot, died in World War II; her younger disappeared after the war until after her own children were gone from home.

Because to recognize a Christmas birthday was too much for a grandmother trying to carry three more children through the depression, Mother’s first birthday party was given her by us when I was in high school, a surprise I’m still proud of pulling off. And on this day when we celebrate the Saviour sent for us, I celebrate too the woman who led me to Him through her daily example of His sacrificial love. Her early life was anything but easy – yet it molded her into a woman who learned gratefulness, who learned to love her Lord and serve her neighbors all her life.

Mother and Daddy had their trials and tribulations too, of course, over 67 years, but she had chosen to live in joy from a young age and so they worked together to make a home that was a miracle of love. She loved Daddy first and best, always, and she gave to us, her two children, of all she was. She taught us to love books by reading to us, keeping full shelves in the study and in our rooms, taking us to the library weekly. She taught us to work as part of a family with our various chores, and she made sure we were part of family life in the kitchen, the sewing room, the garden, the grocery store. The church was our second home, where we joined choir and youth group and went to the dinners and activities and contributed in various ways to the missions and charities. She participated in the church circles and made items for the yearly bazaar and volunteered in the local food bank. She welcomed foreign students, from the university where Daddy worked, for the holidays; she put together food and gift baskets for the local poor; she created a “Santa’s Cookie Tree” on which we hung the gingerbread cookies we’d baked and decorated for the community to enjoy. She took me to the Plaza in Kansas City to window shop and look at fashions, then we picked out patterns and material to make my clothes, as nice or nicer than any we’d seen in the fancy stores. She cried over us, rejoiced over us, daily prayed over us.

Her brothers both are gone, her brothers- and sister-in-law too, and now Daddy. But, despite sorrow and loneliness (what could ever fill the emptiness after 67 years of marriage), she still chooses every day to live in joy. She remains active in her church, she still read voraciously, she cries and rejoices and daily prays over us her children and over her grand- and great-grandchildren. She chooses joy and so her love lifts me up every day of my life, as it has ever done.

(The rose is one from the bush Mother sent us one year.)


William Luse said...

Nice, Beth.

Beth Impson said...

Thanks, Bill.

maria horvath said...

I just came upon your wonderful blog through the introduction by Dark Speech upon the Harp.

You are indeed blessed to have such a mother.

A Birthday song for He who was also born on this day, by the great contralto Mahaliah Jackson:



Beth Impson said...

Why, thank you, Maria (if I may?). Youngest son is talking with her right now; my turn in a little bit. Wish I were with her, but I'll be there in April, God willing.

Thanks for the song!

Merry Christmas to you and yours!

barn swallow said...

Merry Christmas, Dr. Impson! Your mother sounds like a truly beautiful lady.

Teri Walden said...

Wonderful tribute to an example we could all learn from, but which you did in such a meaningful way. I love to hear the stories of those who chose joy; my mom is like that too -- she says she copied it from her grandmother. Now, if we could just copy, and recopy, and show the example more to those around, it would still spread in this world.

Blessings to you and your family this season, Beth!


Beth Impson said...

Elena, she certainly is!

Teri, thank you. So true what you say, that we need to copy and paste these lovely lessons in our lives.

Millie said...

Precious tribute to a lady who sounds like a marvelous woman. Can't wait to spend time with her in eternity!

Beth Impson said...

Millie - isn't it wonderful to think of all the people we'll get to meet?!