This is Mother's Day 2007. I guess we do look something alike, don't we? My son Hyperion had bought us both bears and we are posing on sister Trish's back deck in full Kentucky sun.

My mom was always much stronger than I ever imagined growing up. Until I had children of my own, it never occurred to me how difficult it would be to have your husband gone in ministry all the time, and you left home with four girls and no money. That generation believed firmly that the mom should stay home with the kids, and find ways to live on one salary.

My parents found classy second hand shops, like one in the basement of a church in Columbus. I still remember the nice dresses I found there. Remember, we didn't have Walmart back then, with access to cheap clothes and shoes. Mom's favorite store was Lazarus, in downtown Columbus, but she would wait till they had their huge sales. Their policy was "Lazarus will never be undersold." And buddy, did she ever hold them to it.

My high school years we lived in her old family home in Findlay, Ohio. A farmhouse built in the 1880's, it had the gingerbread on the front porch, the high ceilings, pocket doors and lots of woodwork painted white that are so typical of that era. The green carpet in the front rooms was old and getting bare, with the plain floor boards beginning to show through. I will never forget the day that Mom decided to let us all color the carpet. We found green crayons the right color (don't believe we even had markers back then...probably 1964 or so) and had a ball coloring the bare spots in the carpet. Somehow she made that fun and an adventure, and I don't believe any of us realized we were "poor"!!!

Mom NEVER ONCE grumbled about being left home with the kids while Dad traveled in meetings, coming home every three weeks or so. The call God had placed on my Dad's life affected Mom just as well, and she accepted her part in the plan without complaint. I don't know how she made the money stretch. At that time ministers were not well paid; evangelists were even below them on the salary pole. Somehow she kept us all going, raising us with dignity and self-respect and CLASS. That's the word. Mom had CLASS.

She used the good china and silver on birthdays. She let us choose our very favorite foods for our birthday supper. She arranged surprises or parties behind our back. We always went for ice cream after school concerts; she told us SHE had done the same thing with her folks. Dad missed most of the PTA events and school conferences and concerts; Mom never missed a one. She was a "church widow" for many years, getting the four of us there ON TIME, handing out gum or mints when all four of us reached out our hands to her in the middle of the sermon. Matter of fact, she STILL does that, only it's grand kids too now, reaching out their hands for mints.

I'm realizing how impossible it is to put into words a life of over eight decades, lived totally for God and her family. We all know she prays for us daily, and believes the best for us, one and all. Dad even beat her to Heaven, getting to go when he was only 60. She used to warn him not to go off and die on her, leaving her with all these children. Of course, he didn't pay any attention to her and did the very thing she dreaded. For 25 more years she has carried on without him, doing her duty, faithfully supporting her family and the Ohio State Buckeyes.

Mom, Happy Birthday from all of us, your four girls, their husbands, and your 8 grandchildren. We all love you and think you are amazing. And yes, you'll probably outlive us all, God willing.

Labels: Sarah Dorsey

When Sarah, my mom, was 21 years old, her Dad became sheriff of Hancock County, Findlay, Ohio. The family moved to the old jail building, a huge stone edifice that looked like all the other government buildings of the 20's. My Grandma Cooper became the cook for the prisoners, and for the first time in history, the prisoners of that town ate better than the righteous citizens. Grandma was German and a FANTASTIC cook.

When Mom went to Chicago to college, she met a young country boy from a dirt-poor southern Ohio farm. He was a fire-ball preacher, out-spoken, funny and a lover of hunting, making wooden gun stocks, and literature. Mom was a reserved, quiet, well-behaved Scotch/German musician who had grown up in the city and loved opera and the Ohio State Buckeyes. Totally, totally opposite, so of course they fell in love.

After college and marriage, Mom and Dad traveled from church to church doing what was called "evangelism". They had VERY LITTLE MONEY (you don't go into the ministry if your main goal is to make money), so their first home was a bedroom upstairs in the county jail! When little Margie was born in 1951, guess where her first home was? You're right, the county jail! I've gotten a lot of mileage out of that.

But let me go back to the year before, 1950. Dad went up to Michigan for a revival and also went hunting in the deep woods with several friends. He had orange on, saw his friend take aim at him, hollered "Don't shoot, it's me!!" and got shot anyway. The bullet went clean through his shoulder, and the friends panicked and stuffed his wound with KLEENEX. The Doctor said later it wasn't the bullet that almost killed him, but the bits of Kleenex.

Wow. And Mom was 8 months pregnant with me! She had to travel up there, stay in some nice church people's home, travel on the bus every day to the hospital, and contemplate being a widow before she would be a mother. But, God came through for them and used a grouchy, agnostic doctor to pull Daddy through. When Daddy tried to thank him, the old doc brushed him off. "It wasn't me at all. It was the 'man upstairs'." And Mom lived through that! What a trouper.

Tomorrow - "Coloring the Carpet"

Labels: Sarah Dorsey

Sarah Cooper lived in Findlay, the home of Cooper Tires and Marathon Oil. As a little girl I sat in the famous sandwich shop, Wilson's, and looked up at the wall opposite where it said COOPER in big blue letters. I thought my Grandpa Cooper owned that big company. I will not tell you how old I was when I learned we were no relation!

Anyway, little Sarah was born the last of three girls, eight and four years older than she. At night those mean sisters told her she was their "little stove" so she would let them put their big, cold feet on her! Despicable. I'm sure I never did anything like that to my 3 little sisters.

None of us are very artistic in the painting/drawing category. Our gifts are more in the music/writing line. But Sarah as a little girl had a blackboard, and one day tried to draw a bunny. It looked EXACTLY like Little Orphan Annie's dog Sandy. Mom was so proud of that drawing, she wouldn't let anyone erase it for MONTHS. One day her Mom finally cleaned off the board, and Sarah had a conniption fit. The only artistic thing she ever drew, and it was gone. That has been 80 years ago, and she still tells the story pathetically, as one of the great tragic moments of her life.

Tomorrow - going to jail.

Labels: Sarah Dorsey

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Name:Marg Marshall

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"Fight discouragement like the very devil himself." ~ Morton Dorsey

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