Mother’s Day 1998
My mom was the best mom in the neighbourhood when I was a boy. She could throw a baseball better than any other mom I knew. She was often the one to suggest we go out and play catch or hit a few grounders for practice. Dad didn’t like sports much. When he wasn’t cutting the back field or fixing the car, he liked to sleep with the newspaper. When the young peoples groups from our church came out to our place for a baseball game and cornroast, Mom would be the pitcher for her team. She was a good pitcher. She even owned her own baseball glove. I was so proud of her.
I was proud of her, too, when it came time in the church service for people to give
their testimony. She would stand and speak longer and louder than any other mom and
most of the dads . My dad was a very quiet and shy man who agonized whenever he had
to speak up in public but Mom had a real flair for public speaking. When she led
prayers, she could string her thoughts together with the same flowery language that
the minister used and her voice carried the strength and conviction of her unshakable
faith. Sometimes, I would peek during prayers and see her with her face pointed heaven-
She could have been a lawyer, too. She was smart. When the Jehovah’s Witnesses came
to the front door, Dad would be polite, listen a little and say, "No thanks" but
she relished a good fight for righteousness and truth. I was so proud. She could
out-
As the years passed, I began to see things differently. The words of her dramatic
prayers and testimony were no longer the words of my heart and her righteous, missionary
zeal was no longer a way of life for me. Like my father, I don’t like sports much
anymore and his qualities of humility, gentleness and compassion gained importance
over time, balancing the force of my mother’s single-
Jay Moore