Sunday is Mother’s Day, a time for honoring the women who, through childbirth, adoption or by some other means, have become mamas.
Mothers are very special people, and I count myself blessed to be surrounded by so many wonderful ones.
We do not get to pick our birth mother; the good Lord and nature are responsible for that. Because of special circumstances, many people can say that their birth mother is not their “mama,” because some other person — perhaps a grandmother, an aunt, or someone other than a blood relative — actually raised them and showered upon them the day-to-day affection and care that mamas give to their children.
The underlying bond between a mama and her child is unique in this world.
As this Mother’s Day approaches, I realize how blessed I am to still have my mother with me.
My dad left this life 14 years ago this very month, but Mama is still going strong even as she approaches the age of 80. God has been very good to her, and to us all.
Ann McFerrin is, and was when I was young, a good mother who trusted in the Lord and brought me up in church. We were there practically every time the doors opened, no matter the occasion. Dad was usually there, too. At times during my life, I have strayed from my churchgoing roots. However, I have never forgotten that little country church, and those experiences and teachings have never left me.
Mama has always been a hard worker. A seamstress by trade, I recall her having several factory jobs in Tallahatchie County over the years. She worked at Midstate Sportswear near Sumner, then for several decades was employed at Rosewood Mfg. Co. in Charleston. Sandwiched between those two positions, she operated a small day care, Mother Goose Nursery, out of a large room that she and Dad had built onto our home.
During many long, hot summers, she labored alongside Dad, tending a back yard garden that brought fresh, homegrown food to our table.
Throughout this time, she was the pianist, song leader and held other positions at our church, Walnut Grove, nestled in a grove of walnut trees in a bottom off Oak Grove Road.
Mama lives by the Bible, so when I was younger she did not shy away from enforcing the verse that says, basically, those who love their children care enough to discipline them.
To that end, I got my share of spankings — yet probably fewer than I deserved — with a tree switch or a belt, and Mama was usually the one doling out the punishment. When I did something really bad — like getting caught with a half-smoked cigar stolen from the corner convenience store — Dad weighed in. When he got involved, I knew I had really messed up.
I have been blessed to have such a mother and I love and respect her for who she is and what she has meant in my life.
Aside from my grandmothers and other assorted relatives, the other mothers with whom I am closely associated have come into my life by way of my marriage to Krista.
In August, she and I will celebrate 32 years on our way to foreverness. The latter part of that same month will mark 31 years since Krista first became a mother.
She was sick as a dog during most of her pregnancy, but Krista’s first look into the little face and eyes of John Brandon turned her tears of pain into tears of joy.
Tears of fear and uncertainty came just a few months later when our infant son was discovered to have a hole in the front of his skull, apparently present from birth. He required surgery, and we spent many tense days and nights at Le Bonheur Children’s Hospital in Memphis.
Prayers and faith helped us through. Krista shed many a tear as she watched her little boy lying in a big hospital bed day after day for several weeks, but she stayed strong for him and was wonderfully nurturing and loving to him.
The surgery was a success and the recovery uneventful. The chief surgeon said it was “a miracle” that Brandon had not contracted meningitis over the several months of his young life that his condition went undetected. We knew who worked that miracle.
A few years later, tears of sorrow flowed when Krista’s second pregnancy ended in an early miscarriage. God’s ways are higher than ours.
Then, in October 1993, a little blue-eyed, blonde-haired girl whom we named Kelsey Nicole made her triumphant entry into our lives.
Fortunately for her, and us, she was a perfectly healthy baby girl and her big brother welcomed her with open arms.
We dads do not always see, or if we see we do not always grasp or appreciate, the many sacrifices that women make for their children and for the good of the family unit.
However, I have observed enough to know and say with greatest authority that Krista has been a wonderful mother to both Brandon and Kelsey.
In countless ways over the years, from T-ball to gymnastics, football to cheerleading, band, basketball, track, beauty reviews and much more, Krista has been there for our children, even when work sometimes kept me away.
Krista has been the strong link in our parenting chain, and I have been very blessed to have her in my life and in the lives of our children. I love her more than I can say.
A few years ago, daughter Kelsey married a young man from the Duck Hill community. Almost 21 months ago, they gave birth to their first child, a daughter, Harper Rae.
Tuesday will mark two months since Ryan and Kelsey Bright became parents again, this time welcoming a baby boy, Beckett Nelson.
Both are great parents, but this is a Mother’s Day column so I will focus on Kelsey.
It is surreal to watch one’s baby girl become a mom to her own baby girl and boy, but so is the circle of life.
If Kelsey’s interaction with her children is any reflection on her mother’s interaction with her, I would say Krista should feel mighty proud, as I know she does. Still, Kelsey is her own person and must chart her own path as a mom.
Something tells me that she will do just fine. Her mother and I are very proud of her.
My mother-in-law, Alice Sossaman, has been a wonderful second mother to me and a great grandmother to our children. That lady can cook like nobody’s business. She is a genuinely good person whom I love and respect.
Sunday is “Mother’s Day,” but every day could be celebrated as such.
Without mothers, none of us would be here today, and the world would be much colder.
Clay McFerrin is editor and publisher of The Sun-Sentinel.
