She continues…

I am a mother, and I am most proud of being mom to Alexandra and Jimmy. 

I’ve felt the joy of giving a mother’s love and I’ve known a mother’s love — from both my mom and my mother-in-law. 

And while I love to declare a Happy Mother’s Day, I know it is a complicated day for many — all along the spectrum from broken to beautiful, stained with sadness to celebratory.

I wasn’t sure what my emotions would be on my first mother’s day without an earthly mom.

And then, yesterday, a series of thoughts and events collided in a way that assured me I will celebrate a happy mother’s day today. 

For she continues…

My mom passed away last October, after a twenty-year decline from dementia that took her memory and challenged the last decade of her life but never erased the fullness of her 89 years. 

She was a beloved mom, loving wife, and wonderful human being.

Her funeral service was a private one — where her children, their spouses, and her grandchildren gathered at the gravesite while the world shuttered from the pandemic. 

The day was a celebration.

Her 14 grandchildren escorting mom to her resting place is the most powerful procession I have ever witnessed. 

Then, each of her five children shared words — prayer, scripture, memories, and mother’s day poems written years prior by our late dad. 

Words of faith, words of love, words of remembrance, words of assurance.

She continues…

It was April 12th this year, mom’s birthday, the day mom would have turned 90. I was preparing to leave the ranch when Jim said, “guess what… earlier today I saw the lace cacti blooming at the front gate, so make sure you see them on your way out.”

A lace cactus, Echinocereus reichenbachii, is exquisite. 

It is a small cylindrical cacti with white spines found on the rock outcroppings around the ranch. 

When Alexandra was younger, she nicknamed one “Bob” and we have referred to them as “Bobs” ever since. 

Bobs are not easily seen, blending in with the rocky hilltops, until spring when an oversized, hot-pink flower blooms from the top for only a day or two. 

Their short bloom period makes it easy to miss the flowering if you don’t time your spring visit just right. 

In a post a few years ago, I shared a story about my dad photographing and marveling over a particular lace cactus. (Read the post here by clicking Feeding Chickens.) 

The pertinent part of that story to this post is centered on a moment of meaningful coincidence. 

The first time I was back at the ranch following my father’s funeral, I found only one lace cactus in bloom on the entire ranch. It was my dad’s Bob. The experience was moving, like a message. I shared in the post that I don’t always know what to make of such moments, but I cherish them as special in some unknowable way.

Back to April 12th… on my mom’s birthday, I stopped my car at the ranch gate, walked along the ridge, and snapped pictures of lace cacti in full bloom. 

Exquisite. 

Yes, I celebrated my mom’s birthday with lace cacti flowers smiling in the sun toward the heavens. 

Yesterday, Jim and I came to the ranch for Mother’s Day weekend. 

After settling in, I went alone for a drive around the ranch to see what was blooming. 

The recent rains restored the ranch to a lush, late-spring green.

White blackfoot daisy, yellow slender-stem bitterweed, and purple prairie verbena are prolific across the hilltops. 

And so are the withered blooms on the lace cacti — their flowering period having ended.

My mind drifted to mom and the coming mother’s day without her. 

And then, after hours focusing my eyes on the landscape, in a “look closer” moment, I spotted a lone lace cactus flower. 

Can you see it? Look close!

I walked over to it and smiled. 

The cactus was imperfect,

the flower ragged and spent,

but she stood joyful.

One, one bloom across the entire ranch, like a message that waited for me — my own special moment of unknowing whether a sign… and even yet, enough of one to comfort me.

She continues…