On Her Watch

There was a time in her life when she loved and hated him. Her father was an alcoholic, but the kind that, thankfully, never laid a hand on her. He loved her and her siblings regardless of the amount of booze on his breath.

Her mom was a hot-headed Irish woman with a wit to boot. She grew up knowing that she was loved even though her home was as dysfunctional as a reality TV show. It didn't come without scars.

Self-esteem issues have plagued her most of her life. Fear of rejection has crouched at her door more than once. However, even with these things in her life, she has been a shining anchor in mine.

My mom, Jolene, is the finest woman I know.

She married my dad, Glenn, and the ripe old age of 19 and has been smitten ever since. His love for her not only carried her, but carried her parents as well. He loved them as any young, respectable Christian man should.

Two anchors digging in the foundations of life were about to embark on years of both hurricanes and calm seas.

My earliest memory of my mom is when I was about three, maybe younger. Nope, had to be three because we were in my brothers room when he was a baby. He was sleeping and I guess I needed Mommy because I was the one on her lap who she was singing to.

The next memory is on that same lap, but this time I was crying and in pain. I had just tried to push the glass back door open and it was latched. I crashed through it, cutting my wrist. I sat on her lap, crying through the pain, as she held a cold rag on it.

It's never changed. When I've needed her, she's been there. If I'm looking for a good belly laugh, I just need to go to mom's and hang out for the day. If I need encouragement and a booster shot for esteem, I call her and we tell each other how wonderful we are.

You see, my mom, is a stronghold breaker.

You haven't read about her alcoholism or my dad being a drunk, right? That's because she had taken the shoulders of her legacy and turned them north. She would not let the sin of her father be carried over into her little family. Not on her watch.

And she succeeded.

My parents have three children: my sister, Carrie, me, and my brother, Casey. Because of their fierce love for Christ and for us, the three of us are Christ followers and we have the best time together.

I have had many people in my life tell me that our family is, well, weird. We all like each other, we all like spending time together, and we do it often. Sure, we have our "family" moments, but they are never long-lived. Mom made sure of that.

She made sure we went to each other's events. I sat in the bleachers and watched my skinny, little brother scramble around a basketball court. I sat in other bleachers and watched my skinny, big sister ride around on those giant, scary animals we call horses. And in return, they sat in the pews and watched me tickle the ivory's and sing to the heavens.

Those moments created in us a unique love for one another. We get excited when one succeeds and are sad with them with failure hits. We aren't jealous of each other, but lovingly and humbly recognize each others strengths and talents.

All this because of my mom.

Oh, there is so much more I could say, but I'll finish with this. If you want to learn how to love people, spend time with my mom. If you need to learn how to have a bigger heart, sit and have coffee with Jo. In the mood for a good laugh? Just go have lunch with her. Need, for a moment, to feel like you are the coolest, smartest, and most creative person on the planet, here let me introduce you to my mom, Jolene.

Happy Birthday, Mom.