I can still remember playing outside on a hot summer day and vividly hearing the sound of my Dad’s 1965 Plymouth Valiant downshifting as it pulled off the main road and into our subdivision. My thought at the time was – I was not at home where I was supposed to be, clean and ready for supper. That is just one of my childhood memories. Good or bad, depending on how you look at it, it doesn’t matter--it is still a memory.

I have the best job in the world. I would not trade it for any amount of money or anything else. Ever since I was a little girl, I knew what I wanted to be when I grew up. I wanted to be a mom! I watched my mom daily, as she was always there when I came home from school, as she attended school functions, as she cleaned house, as she ironed our clothes and took care of our family. I was always proud to have friends over, and our house was always the “hang out” for the neighborhood kids. That was my mom’s job and that was the job I wanted when I grew up. You could tell she enjoyed her life and what else was I to think other than,“I want to do that when I grow up.” These are my memories.

I am now a mom of two teenage girls. I have lived through the baby years, the toddler years, and the preteen years. There are some days when I would love for them to be toddlers again, but then I look at them and see where they are and how they have gotten there, and I really wouldn’t change much. I have planned the birthday parties, Easter egg hunts, sleepovers, and vacations, but the one thing you really can not plan are the memories. I can see God’s beautiful plan for the circle of life as I watch my own daughters build memories and grow into beautiful Christian women.

The funny thing about memories is that they occur daily when you least expect them. Part of being a parent is the “everyday walk” that you live. It includes encouraging your children to do what is right and being there for them when they are confused and question why some things are right when it seems that they are the only ones doing it that way. We must lead by example and know that we are always being watched. When our children are young, they are like sponges. They watch us and mimic what we do as they learn what is appropriate. Why do we think this stops as they become teenagers? Do we, or should we, ever really stop trying to do good and set good examples for our children?

I believe that our children always watch us and “decide” whether our actions are something they want to inherit. The wise writer of Proverbs recorded “Train up a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not depart from it” (22:6).  That training is a continuous process--old or young our children are still sponges, but they “filter” out to their own personalities—traits they will then share with their children. The memories and the cycle of life continues. Just as it did with my own mother—our special MaMa.

Once you experience the loss of a close family member, you have waves of memories rush through your mind. These are the memories of the little things, such as taking the MaMa medicine that always healed the boo-boos, going to the drive-in movies as a child and taking your own popcorn and can drinks because they were too expensive to buy there, taking the TV outside on the patio and watching it in front of a fire that Dad so carefully built to keep us warm as it got dark, and killing the snake in the backyard with the orange crocket mallet. These are the memories that flood your mind as you get older. Did we plan these events to last as memories? No, it was just the way we lived our lives. Yeah, you remember the vacations and the birthday parties, but what we can’t forget is that every day we are making some type of memory. Is it a memory that you want your children to have?

The biggest compliment my children can give me today is when I say or do something and they look at me and say, “You just had a MaMa moment” or “You just sounded like MaMa”. I know I am on the right track making memories by being close to my family. Talking with them, letting them know I care, and being silent when they don’t really want to know my opinion. That is my job. I am a Mom. I am a memory maker.

In memory of my Mother

Dora Martin Kirby

     1926 - 2007