A couple of days ago, my Mom–Lois McKeever of Nauvoo, Alabama–celebrated birthday number 93. You helped to make it special. So far, she has opened nearly 100 cards and notes and they’re still arriving, a few each day. Thanks so much. She enjoys every one, and I take your doing this as a personal favor. (Of course, she received cards from friends outside the circle of this website. But still…)

Mom jokes that “they all say you must be a wonderful person to have raised such a special son.” She adds, “Don’t they know I raised four special sons? and two special daughters?”

No favoritism with this lady. Even though she’s proud of her two preacher boys (Ron and Joe), the other four (Glenn, Patricia, Carolyn, and Charlie) are just as precious.

These days she looks outside her large front window onto fields that are lovely in every way. With her two sons-in-law James and Van plowing and planting the fields (in their spare time; James works for the telephone company and Van for the Jefferson County Sheriff’s Office) and Ron growing his own garden up there, one would think we were back in the 1950s when all the kids were at home, everyone had an assignment in the fields, and every tillable acre was blooming with productivity.

Mom is slowing down. She’s about quit going to church due to her declining mobility. And about quit cooking, except for breakfast for whoever spent the night with her. Even the fried apple or peach turnovers are made from canned biscuit dough. (It ain’t the same, but we’re not telling her!)

This is how life is.

We’re grateful to have had her so long and aren’t close to being ready to give her up, turn her loose, or send her back.

I’ll apply a line from my grandson Grant here, one spoken about his mother when he was 5 or 6 years old.

Grant was in the backseat of my car alongside Antonio, his best friend. We’d been to the park and fed the ducks, eaten at McDonald’s, and they’d had a great time together.

I was quiet and eavesdropping on their conversation behind me.

Antonio: “Grant, would you rather live at my house or yours?”

Grant: “Yours. You have bunk beds.”

Antonio: “Would you rather have my mom or yours?”

(I was really listening now! He’d better get this right.)

Grant: “Mine. I’m used to her.”

Julie still smiles at that.

So, Mom–we’d rather have you with us for a long time to come.

We’re used to you. And we don’t want to get used to doing without you.

“Lord, thank you for all mothers everywhere and this special one in particular! Thank you for all the friends far and wide who have helped to make her birthday special. Surround her with your love, and leave her with us as long as would please you. Until that day, comfort her and give her joy in her heart, peace in her soul, and strength in her bones. Amen.”

(Invariably, someone will ask for Mom’s address. It’s Lois McKeever, 191 County Road 101, Nauvoo, AL 35578.)