mom in the picture

This post is inspired by a Huff Post piece from last year, The Mom Stays in the Picture by Allison Tate.

“The kids are so much cuter than we are,” she wrote, “better to just take their pictures, we think. But we really need to make an effort to get in the picture.”

When I read that line I couldn’t help think how right she is. It reminded me of when the funeral director asked my dad for a picture of my mom so they’d know how to style her hair for the final viewing. We couldn’t find a single recent picture of her. My dad ended up giving them her high school graduation picture, which had to be about 15 years old. No joke.

“I’m everywhere in their young lives, and yet I have very few pictures of me with them,” Tate said. “Someday I won’t be here — and I don’t know if that someday is tomorrow or thirty or forty or fifty years from now — but I want them to have pictures of me.”

So here is a gift for my sons:

First try
First try
Second try
Second try
This isn't fun anymore, our oldest is thinking. Perhaps a fish face will add to the entertainment value.
This isn’t fun anymore, our oldest is thinking. Perhaps a fish face will add to the entertainment value.


Happy Mother’s Day.

In the comments, feel free share a link to your photo with mom in the picture.

Mother’s Day

Today marks my second Mother’s Day as a mom. Last year our little bundle of energy was still unborn, but he was starting to show. This year he made my day just by being his smiley babbling self.

There was a time when I resented being called “mom.” My siblings used to use it as a derogatory term when I was acting too bossy. We were all too young to recognize the unselfish, serving nature of the role, of course. Perhaps that takes a lifetime as a parent to fully comprehend–and live out.

As of late, the day gives me pause to remember the women in my life who filled in some of the gaps that were left after Mom’s death. Grandma would be at the top of the list, followed by some of my Sunday School teachers and others at church. I owe them a gratitude that’s not easy to express. Indeed, some of them are no longer around to hear or read my feeble attempts.

Perhaps the best way to express my appreciation is by following their example, by living out my convictions, by building into the lives of others, by loving and serving not only my own children but others who have needs. Who knows where such a legacy will lead?