Remembering Mother

How nice and poignant it was this past weekend for the Celebrate Life team to display those signs near the shore of Lake Pend Oreille, honoring lost loved ones.  

I must admit that while pedaling through approximately half a mile of beautiful signs with many familiar names on either side of the bike path, I got a little misty-eyed and felt goosebumps---especially when I saw Mother's name among the group. 

Hard to explain what such a scene does to you, but it was moving, to say the least.  

In addition, the photo I took Saturday turned out pretty handy for today----the day on which each year we'll always remember our mother.  

It's her birthday. She would have been 94 today. 

For this birthday, I selected a photo which pretty adequately exemplifies her spirit.  

What a day that was in 2006 when Skip Pucci (a beloved friend and Sandpoint citizen) took her through the Fourth of July Parade in his horse-drawn buggy. 

It had to have been one grand day for Mother, dressed to the nines in Western attire (thanks to some help from sister Barbara), enjoying the shouts, clapping and the waves and the experience with what she loved more than just about anything---horses.  

She drew horses, painted horses, took pictures of them, rode them, taught young people about them, cared for them, and, I'd guestimate, "talked" horses about 75 percent of her waking days. 

She spent hours talking with longtime friends Ardis and Helen and Jean and Etta and with whoever else loved the beautiful creatures as she did.  

And, around the dinner table, when Harold wasn't telling his horse tales, Mother was telling hers. 

That constant influence spread and found a permanent place in the hearts of many of her family members. 

As did her spirit! 

Someone wrote me a very nice note yesterday, talking about the joy I find in life.  

Well, I know from whence it came.  This lady gave it her all.  Her heart was big; her humor was both infectious and wicked and her standards, always high. Her example of making the most of every day stuck with all of us. 

And, so, on this third time of celebrating her birthday without her, I'd say she'd probably be pretty proud of how her six kids have moved forward, embracing their individual passions and all the good that life has to offer while putting out a little good of their own. 

Happy Birthday, Mother.  We miss you, but we live through your influence every day.