Mom, The Wind Beneath My Wings

This is an article I'm submitting to CWO's Mom Moments Challenge, sponsored by Darlene Schacht, author of The Mom Complex. But it is also a tribute to my mom, now with Jesus 8 months and counting. She would have been 79 on April 24th.

She was born April 24, 1928 to Allen and Winnie Jordan in Oklahoma. She was born again 10 years later in Corcoran, California, and her life would never be the same. Most people knew her as Jean Ward. I simply knew her as Mom.

When Jean gave her heart to God, she held nothing back. She was baptized by Elvis...Elvis Thurmon, that is. Mom continued to serve God in His church throughout her teenaged years, singing special music, leading devotions and attending many fellowship meetings as a representative for her church.

At the age of 17 she married her sweetheart, Les Ward, just back from his service in the U.S. Army during WWII. They wed February 10, 1946; Dad said it was the best $5.00 he'd ever spent.

Mom wandered away from God in the early years of their marriage. She had three kids in three years, and worked most of the time helping to support their young family. But after 16 years of life kinda sorta living for God, she and Dad got serious. By the time I was three years old, she had begun taking me to Sunday School. By the time I was seven, we were in church faithfully every Sunday.

Dad was a wanderer at heart, but Mom held her ground. She wanted me raised in a consistent home, in church, and not moving every few years whenever the wind blew and Dad got the itch. She was respectful of Dad, but firm in her wishes, taking them to God in prayer.

We stayed in the same town for 15 years, and the same church for 20. Most of my childhood memories are wrapped up in some church activity...attending women's meetings with my mom, helping with fundraisers, watching her serve as church secretary and teaching me how to do it, hosting missionaries and guest preachers, and praying.

Lots and lots of praying.

That was one of two constants in my life. Mom always believed in me, and Mom always prayed for me. I knew if she said, "I'm praying for you, Baby," she meant it. I can still picture her, kneeling by her bed, hands clasped and head bowed in fervent prayer for some need.

One of my most vivid memories was a time when we were financially in need, and our church helped us out. First thing my mom did was hold hands, bow down and give thanks to God. I didn't understand it. We had help...why was she crying? She told me it was because she was so grateful to God for providing.

I've always thanked God for His provision, even in the smallest things, because of her example.

I pray, because Mom taught me that is the power a woman has. To pray to her God for her family and friends, and even for her enemies. Prayer is the key that unlocks any door, and lights any path. It is communication with our Father, and He loves to hear His children pray.

I still remember a few years ago, when Mom was all alone after Dad passed away and my step-dad had unexpectedly died as well. She was worried about a situation in her life, and she prayed about it. She called me and was sobbing, "I just can't believe it," she said. "All the universe, and God sees me. Little old me, and He loves me. I'm just so amazed by that."

And that was Mom. So in tune with God, but still so in awe of His wonderful love. Her favorite praise hymn was "Open The Eyes of My Heart, Lord"...because she longed to see Him.

And now she does.

She was my best friend, my biggest fan, and I miss her so much. I'm proud to be her daughter, and I love and cherish her example to me.

I love you, Mom. Thanks for teaching me to be a prayer warrior. I'm not quite as diligent as you were, but I'm working on it.

Be blessed,

Deena