Tag: Mother’s Day

Posted in grandparenting, Life

Mother’s Day preparation

Posted on by William Douthwaite

I spent some time with my nine- and five-year-old grandsons yesterday while my daughter took my wife out for an early Mother’s Day brunch. When they show up at my house, the boys typically chase the dogs around, climb and swing on the play fort, and exercise with all the garage gym equipment. Yesterday the older rode his long board up and down the street while the younger did a few odd jobs to earn a few quarters. But then it was time for the main attraction.

One of my grandfatherly tasks was to get them working on Mother’s Day cards. I printed out a few card templates I found online, got out our bucket of crayons, and announced it was time to get to work.

To my surprise, they dove into the project with passion. They took their time carefully coloring the cards rather than hurried scribbling. Each was proud of his work, showing off color combinations and attention to detail. I enjoyed watching the “I love my mom!” side of the boys that is usually hidden behind a young man’s “What can I climb?” “How can I annoy my brother?” and (while hanging upside down from something) “Look what I can do!”

The five-year-old was filled with pride as he wrote his message inside the card, along with a bonus picture. The older thought, “I need to get her a present.” Boys definitely need a dad, but they sure love their moms!

I got a whole hour of focused worked out of them before they started asking about lunch. That’s impressive.

Posted in Life

“It’s almost the weekend.”

Posted on by William Douthwaite
Photo by Dawn McDonald on Unsplash

Out of the corner of my eye I saw a nip hit the already full trash can next to the gas pump. It was a small bottle of E & J brandy, rather than the popular Fireball or Smirnoff. On the other side of the pump, a young man was lying in the bed of a pickup truck while another filled it with gas.

A voice said, “Good evening, sir.”

“‘Evening.”

I thought he then said, “It’s almost the weekend.” It was a Wednesday evening so I said, “Yup, hump day.”

He was very hard to understand and I thought he repeated, “It’s almost the weekend.” He must have seen the puzzled look on my face and spoke slower, but still slurring his words. After a third try, I finally figured out he was trying to say, “It’s almost Mother’s Day weekend.”

Unsure where the discussion was headed, I said, “My mom died about nineteen years ago.”

“I wish I could talk with you. Mine died a week ago.”

“That must be hard.”

“I was right there with her. A massive heart attack. I’m not sure what to do.”

I said, “I guess you’re not looking forward to this weekend.”

He went on, “Nope. But she was a good Christian woman.”

“It’s sad, but at least you know she’s with the Lord.”

He reached out his hand to shake mine and said, “God bless you, man.”

“God bless.”

And that was it. The pump clicked off and I closed the gas cap. As I drove away I saw three others standing outside the pickup truck. I didn’t catch the license plate, so I don’t know if they were local or passing through Daytona Beach.

Most people at the gas pump do their thing and drive off. Occasionally I’ll have a random conversation. The culture of convenience stores is interesting, including huge cups of coffee, tiny bottles of booze, and plenty of scratch off lottery tickets.

Posted in Life

A Tribute to Mom

Posted on by William Douthwaite
Mom (Nancy Douthwaite) in a 1993 photo from our home in West Des Moines, IA
Mom (Nancy Douthwaite) in a 1993 photo from our home in West Des Moines, IA

How many blog posts will be written about moms this weekend? Lots and lots, I’m sure. Well, I’m not going to be left out! Here’s my tribute to mom, someone I don’t think I’ve ever written about before.

My mom died a little over eight years ago, finally succumbing to a ten-year battle with cancer. Married to my dad for fourty-nine years, her faith, love and talents live on in the families of her children.

Mom was a nurse, graduating from Philadelphia General Hospital. She wore white, wore a cap (a unique double frill), and worked weekends. That’s when my dad learned how to cook. Thank goodness for Hamburger Helper. She talked me into volunteering at the hospital, getting ice water, giving up meal trays, feeding those who needed help, and occasionally moving a corpse to the morgue. I’ve always believed that those experiences helped me feel comfortable making hospital visits.

Mom was a musician. She was a talented pianist. In my mind I can still hear her playing Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata and accompanying some family singalongs. That gene was passed along to all of us kids and grandchildren.

Mom was a writer. She took a creative writing class, and I am sure files of her manuscripts are still in the basement of our home in Ridley Park. She always had millions of notebooks and pens around the house, filled with lists, ideas, doodles and bible passages. She just loved the feel of the ages of a brand new notebook.

Mom was an artist. She did some oils but I especially remember some of her charcoal sketches. A few swipes across a piece of paper and suddenly she had drawn a picture of you. Amazing.

Mom loved chocolate.

Mom was a Christian. She and my dad were absolutely faithful in worship, she taught Sunday School and Bible classes, loved to read books about spiritual topics and was amazingly active in sharing her faith, especially with the family. I vividly remember our family devotions after supper each night. We three kids rotated through the duties of lighting the candle, reading the scripture and then the My Devotions article. Our family life was intricately interwoven with the life of the church all throughout my growing up years. Do you think God was able to use her to raise up a few pastors (my brother and I) and an organist and teacher (my sister) for His church? Yep.

Mom probably had no idea how many lives she touched simply by being who she was, following Christ and loving her husband and children. Not perfect, just redeemed. Not famous, but definitely remembered.

(Stay tuned: I’m writing about dad on June 16.)