she worked hard, i mean really hard. my father died when i was five, she loved him. she never remarried another man. i don't even remember her dating. i can't be sure, but i believe there was a point of decision, a life shift, where she committed herself to her faith and her children for all of her days.
raising three children on one income, she did it.
loving three children enough for two parents, she did it.
making memories, the good kind, with what time she had, she did it.
the raising three children on one income, doing it.
loving three children enough for two parents, i don't have to, thank God, but boy do i love them.
making memories, the good kind- this is my love language.
our crew unloaded and spoke with the old man in front. he gave us our buckets, a map and sent us on our way. i snapped pictures as my little ones discovered apple trees for the first time and delighted in the freedom to choose any apple they wished. jacob, carried the apple-picker in his hand and baby girl on his back.
i captured moments with my camera and my mind as i thought of all the things i could make with our bounty. applesauce, apple pie and baked apple oatmeal were at the top of my list.
when they grow up i want them to look back and remember annual trips to the orchard. the way the house smelled of apples and cinnamon for days after. i want them to remember my love for the things that did not cost money. i pray they think of the way we loved them and delighted in their presence.
and maybe, just maybe when they are grown and the cool breezes of fall blow in they will wrap up in a blanket on their own couch. there they will rest in the warmth of those times spent on the mountains of north carolina. the taste of apple pie made by a mama who loved them wholly and a desire to pass on a legacy of simple living and love extravagant.
i did it for the memories, little ones.
*linking up with carissa for miscellany monday & blair for life lately