Mama

Ginger Wauweese Buie Moore, Christmas Day 2009

Today is my mother's birthday, and I can't say enough good things about her. First, she has an amazing name. Growing up she stayed home rather than work, and each day we were greeted coming home from school with her smile and on espeically lucky days, her home made sour dough bread. She spent countless hours driving us to and from school and soccer practices and was completely selfless in her desire to give us everything she could. Every evening we would have a family meal, and I swear, she is one of the best cooks on earth. She dedicatedly woke up early to cook us hearty breakfasts before school and each morning was something different: my favorites were blueberry muffins or waffles with fruit.

But far from being a stay-at-home mama, she has raised us in different countries, packing the whole familiy up, on more than one occassion and moving (twice) to South East Asia where she faced problems of geckos in the refrigerator, cockroaches in the kitchen, buying groceries without a car, and making sure we took the correct bus to go to school. She was always our number one fan, and after nearly every game we played she'd ask, 'Did you hear me from the sidelines?'

First Sunday I'm back from my semester Abroad, July 2009

My particularly favorite memories of her are on Christmas day. She loves watching us wake up and stumble down the stairs and open "santa's" stockings, so excited to give us things we've been wanting. After presents, she'll have cooked a better than usual breakfast. I love this photo of mama, because it utterly captures her on Christmas.

Early on she instilled in us a love for reading. Bedtime was the highlight of the day and I remember dancing on edge to find out what happened in The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe. She continues to read great books now, her particular favorites being Austen and Dickens. She loves country music and one of my favorite memories was singing along to her record player to this song.




She passed on to us her strong sense of justice. Few things can bring tears to my mother's eyes, but injustice is one of them. Right and wrong were no laughing matters to her, and from very early on, she took it very seriously when any of us behaved badly. Mama is not one to pick her battles: anytime anything is wrong she can't afford to look the other way. A little older now, matters I see other parents pass over or deem as unimportant were non-negotiables for her. As I am most like my mother in temperment, she would spend lots of time with me, working through my frustrations and pouncing on my judgemental moments.

Most importantly, mama passed on to all of us, her deep love for the Word of God. If we happened to come down early, we would often catch her holding a cup of coffee while reading over the Bible as this was the first thing she did every morning. She prays for all of us zealously and she knows Scriptures like the back of her hand. The choices I made in college and the choices I've made for a career are deeply shaped by her humble tremor, and I could not think of a better or more brave mother. Love.