A Tribute to Moms


For all the motivational experts and the purveyors of inspiration, moms have the original fire in the belly. They are the original incubators, creating a safe place for new life.

For all the entrepreneurs and startup junkies, for all the adventure sport fanatics, for all the seventh grade boys looking for their first date to the dance, moms are the world’s biggest risk takers.

They give of themselves, literally and figuratively, in the face of endless potential harms. They bring life into a world fraught with death. They nurture that life until it can stand on its own, with no guarantee that it will, in fact, stand.

Motherhood is a purely remarkable feat, wherever it may be found. May it be forever honored, first by fathers, then by others. Without it, the world simply does not go on.

When I think of Mom, I think of soft hands and back scratches. I once so loved her touch that I dreamed of inventing an automatic back scratcher – complete with her nails and her perfect pressure – for when life would take me beyond her reach but not beyond the need for comfort.

I think of macaroni and cheese and Smiley Stew, i.e., ground beef and beans I refused to eat before a creative re-branding. I think of leftovers and a microwave. Better a meal of vegetables where there is love than a fattened calf with hatred, the Proverbs say.

I think of Easy Listening 92.9 FM. The music soothed Mom’s stress amidst bumper-to-bumper traffic. It gave me a headache.

I think of Extra sugar-free gum and white Tic Tacs, the ones that tasted real good for a minute and then quickly turned into menthol overkill.

I think of the dread of Sunday nights and her preparing kindergarten lesson plans for a principal’s review. I get it. Just how many ways can you say, “This week we are studying the color purple?”

I think of a canoe trip down the Buffalo River and her clamoring for our family’s canoe not to capsize. She couldn’t swim, and she couldn’t get her perm wet. Ours was the only boat that stayed upright.

I think of swimming lessons and the way she walked backward to give me more practice even when I begged her not to. She knew what was best for me.

I think of Perry Como vinyls and an Amy Grant concert.

I think of her sitting next to my bed on nights I was scared or sick. I think of the hum of the humidifier and amoxicillin’s aftertaste.

I think of the time she called the city fire department to our rural property one snow day.

She had smelled the neighbor’s fireplace, saw steam rising from my father’s workshop and felt warmth on the shop’s dark red door. (It was in the sun.) She wanted to keep us safe.

The late Rich Mullins’ music career and free spirit took him far and wide but never outside the reach of a mother’s love:

“I’ll carry the songs I learned when we were kids. I’ll carry the scars of generations gone by. I’ll pray for you always, and I’ll promise you this: I’ll carry on, I’ll carry on.”


Follow Kevin Thompson at www.kwt.info.


1 Response to “A Tribute to Moms”

  1. 1 jessestroup May 16, 2017 at 14:10

    Very good Kevin. I know Varbara a little better now. Jesse

    Jesse Stroup 214-709-6559 jessestrouplive@yahoo.com


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