The Philosophy of Mom

I’ve been reading my Mom’s journals again and stumbled across this gem!

 

My Mom's Philosophy in a nutshell:

Happiness is a direction, not a place.

From her journal:

THE GIFTS WE GIVE OF OURSELVES . . .

GIFTS OF THE HEART: love, kindness, joy, understanding, sympathy, tolerance, forgiveness

GIFTS OF THE MIND: ideas, dreams, purposes, inventions, projects, poetry

GIFTS OF THE SPIRIT: prayer, vision, beauty, aspiration, peace, faith

GIFTS OF WORDS: encouragement, inspiration, guidance, praise

 

Mom, I miss you. Someday, When I grow up, I want to be just like you!

Happy Mother’s Day!

On Being ‘Honest’

Okay, yes. We're a work in progress . . .

I taught my children the moral lessons my parents taught me.

Now my children are teaching their children.

Sometimes, their success is . . . uncertain . . .

We were leaving church.

Our daughter and her daughter (hereinafter called HD) were recapping lessons learned that day in Sunday School.

“We learned about honesty!” HD said in her three-year-old, glass-shattering, there’s-a-lot-of-noise-in-this-hall voice.

“And what is honesty?” her mother asked.

She looked at her mother. “Mom!” she said. “It’s when you don’t show your knees. And you don’t show these!” With that last, she pulled down the bodice of her dress, flashing everyone who may have been within eye shot of their little family.

Approximately fifty or so people.

“Aaaah!” Her mother quickly pulled HD’s dress back into its original position. “I think you’re talking about ‘modesty’.

“Oh. Right. Modesty is when you don’t show your knees and you don’t show . . .” This time, her mother was able to anticipate the action and keep her daughter covered.

“. . . these.”

We’re not yet sure about her whole take on honesty.

But at least she has modesty . . . down.

Bilingual

 

Language Lessons

Yumm. No matter what it's called . . .

We live in Canada.

French and English are spoken here.

Quite often in the same sentence.

But that doesn’t mean that all of us speak both languages fluently.

Or at all.

Oh, and my second son, Erik, worked at the local Sobey’s grocery store.

I realize that these facts seem to be irrelevant.

Wait for it . . .

It was a normal day at work.

Erik, one of the numerous stock boys, had spent the day uncrating merchandise.

Stocking shelves.

Packing groceries.

And helping customers find things.

Sometimes, this last duty was the most demanding. And amusing.

A woman had been wandering up and down the soft drink aisle for several minutes.

And had enlisted the aid of at least one other stock boy and, finally, the store manager.

She was growing impatient and a trifle red-faced.

Erik set down the box he was carrying and went over to see if he could help.

“I’m sorry, Ma’am,” the manager was saying. “We simply don’t carry that kind.”

“I got it here!” the woman burst out. “The last time I was in this store! Right in this aisle!”

The manager shook his head. “I’m afraid you’re mistaken, Ma’am,” he said quietly. “We’ve never carried that.”

“Young man! I took it right out of this aisle. Right here!” she pointed. “See? There with all of the grape juice.”

The manager followed the pointing finger. Then shook his head. “I’m sorry, Ma’am,” he said. “Grape juice is all we carry. We have no Raisin juice.”

The woman dropped her arm and frowned. “Are you telling me I’m stupid?”

“No, Ma’am, no!” the manager was quick to disagree. “I just think you may be mistaken. Something that happens to all of us. Me, in particular!” He smiled.

Erik stopped beside them. “Anything I can help with?”

The manager looked at him. “This customer is looking for some Raisin juice,” he said. “I’ve told her we don’t carry it.”

The woman glared at him, then turned to Erik. “And I’ve told him that I got it here,” she said stoutly. “Right here! Raisin juice!”

Erik looked at both of them for a moment. Then he reached out and turned around one of the Grape juice boxes.

‘Raisin’ was plainly visible on the label.

‘Raisin’ is French for ‘grape’. Just FYI.

Both of them stared at it.

“Oh,” the manager said.

“That’s it!” the customer said happily, grabbing the box and departing.

The manager looked at Erik and shrugged.

“Who knew?” he said.

Who indeed.

45

I’m so blessed!

I’ve had 45 years with this guy.

45 years of love, talks, kids, school, games, movies, meals, home time, holiday time, work, play, walks, sports, quiet, noise, health scares, fitness efforts, hikes, diets, feasts, failures, successes, pies, friends, family, church, prayer, singing, laughing, crying, glory, pity, teasing, good times, hard times, sleeping, waking...

And through it all, he’s remained steady and sure. 

My rock.

My best friend.

I love you, Grant Lovell Tolley.

And then there's this . . .

Buried Treasures

The theme this week is quite the thing,

It’s ‘What I love the most ‘bout Spring’!

What about this season makes me sing?

You have to know: It’s gardening!

A tray of nasturtiums, a little pink hoe,

The widest of smiles, almost ready to go!

She grabbed tiny gloves, in red boots, she was clad,

And three-year-old May went to garden with Dad.

Both daughter and Pop. In the dirt. On their knees.

Teased by a squirrel and the mischievous breeze,

They spent most an hour in the bright springtime sun,

Mom could tell by their glee, they were having such fun!

Soon the squeak of the latch and a “Mom!” at the door,

And the sound as her gloves and small boots hit the floor,

Then the tiptoe of little, sweet, tender pink feet,

‘Twas her May who was plying her brand of ‘discrete’.

She slipped up to Mom, and then peered all around,

“Mama!” she whispered, with hardly a sound,

“I was out helping Daddy. Watched all that he did!

“He buried the flowers. But I know where they‘re hid!”

Photo Credit: Karen of bakinginatornado.com

Cause Mondays do get knocked a lot,

With poetry, we all besought
To try to make the week begin
With gentle thoughts,
Perhaps a grin?
So Karen, Charlotte, Mimi, me
Have crafted poems for you to see.
And now you’ve read what we have wrought…
Did we help?
Or did we not? 

Next week, we’ll all pay tribute to,

All our lost socks, both old and new!

Thinking of joining us for Poetry Monday?

We'd love to welcome you!
Topics for the next few weeks...
The best thing about spring (From Mimi) (May 3) TODAY!

Lost Sock Memorial Day. (May 10)
The anniversary of the patent of the rubber band. (May 17)
Favorite breakfast (May 24)
Memorial Day (May 31)
Best Friends Day (from June 8) (June 7)
Monkey Around Day (June 14)
Fathers (June 21)
Bubbles (June 28)