my mother’s Art

“you’ll never guess what we did today.”

i was talking to my dad on the phone the other day.  i could hear my mom in the background telling him to hush.

“what’s that daddy?” i replied, smiling to myself.  to which he responded, “we rearranged the furniture.” and i chuckled sarcastically, “oh really…now that’s a surprise!”

we love to give mom a hard time about it…it’s sort of a running joke.  because growing up,  saturday morning housecleaning and/or furniture rearranging was a customary weekend ritual.  much like the trip to the grocery store and sunday afternoons spent matching socks and folding undershirts.

although my mom always worked full-time, nevertheless she was a homemaker.  she is a homemaker.  and i mean that both in the very broadest sense of the term as well as in every detail.  from artful way she arranges the knick-knacks on her kitchen buffet to the bright yellow marigolds she plants on her front porch every summer.

my mother is an {A}rtist.

only when i became a wife and mother did i come to appreciate the home that my mother made.  a home made out of a desire to create a place to care for her family and her talent for making the most out of what she had.  and if that meant rearranging the furniture to keep things feeling new and fresh….well then so be it.

but my mother’s art didn’t end there.  for as long as i can remember, my mom was always dabbling in the arts and crafts.  sewing everything from kitchen curtains to easter dresses.  crocheting granny squares into afghans.  arranging flowers and painting on glass.  sketching, journaling, dreaming, and planning.

my mom was a maker long before it was hip and cool to be part of the ‘maker movement’.  she didn’t decorate her house and then write blog posts studded with affiliate links.  she didn’t write a how-to on juggling two kids and full-time job hoping to get picked up by the huffington post and go viral on facebook.

NOT THAT THERE’S ANYTHING WRONG WITH THAT.

but my mother’s Art is a reminder to me of the true meaning of what it means to be a homemaker.  and although she would be the very last person to think of these things as Art, i believe that all of her pursuits have always been a response to an inner calling… devotion to her family and a desire to serve God.

wednesday was my mom’s birthday.

i went over to my parent’s house last night to celebrate.  and once again i was reminded of how grateful i am for her and the home she made for us.  because  everything i know about family and home, i first learned from my her.  she taught me how to cook and sew and arrange my knick-knacks.  but mostly she taught me the art of homemaking.

happy birthday mom!  i love you!

kelly