If the only prayer you said in your whole life was “thank you”, that would suffice.
It's thanksgiving here in America...a day of coming together, of remembering and celebrating. We'll have a little extra celebration today as my mom turned seventy-eight years young last week. Our Thanksgiving pie will have birthday candles on it!
I put together a journal page in her honor and just had to include this vintage picture of the man in the moon.
My mom is all about the moon.
I remember my mom's sing-song voice piercing the darkness in the family car. Gazing through the window at the moon I would hear her say:
I see the moon, the moon sees me.
God loves the moon and God loves Janice!
Those sweet words sank deep into my spirit, shaping my beliefs about myself and giving me a sense of belonging in this world.
A full moon brought my mom such joy that we often planned family vacations to coincide with it's appearance. On one memorable camping trip we set up our tent very close to Canyon Dam lake so that she could see the full moon reflected on the water. We didn't actually see much of the moon that night. A huge storm blew in and dropped so much rain that the lake rose and water actually came into our tent. We had to abandon the campsite in the wee hours of the morning and head for a hotel in a nearby town where we stayed for the rest of the week. Honestly, we had the best vacation ever all because my mom wanted to see the moon on the water.
I am so very grateful that Mother and Daddy passed their sense of wonder about nature on to me. The endless waxing and waning of the moon, the ebb and flow of the tides, the unchanging pattern of the seasons...all teaching me valuable lessons and keeping the constant rhythm to which I move through life.
Thank you, Mother...for everything. I love you dearly.
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