You can’t see all of us, but four generations are represented in this picture. The planter and its mate across the sidewalk were among the items of interest I loaded into our van at my parents’ home in Jacksonville, Florida, after my mother died in 1988. I could choose from the bigger things, since I drove and my sister had flown from California to help figure out what to do with the stuff that didn’t go with my dad to a high-rise assisted living facility. Our task completed, I bid my sister farewell and headed for home in Grand Rapids, Michigan.
The planters, a gift to my mother from her grandson Kevin, made another long journey in 1994 when I married Mauri. Off-loaded from the moving truck, they soon found a home there by the “old front door.” On the first Mothers Day of my life as a Macy I loaded those pots with potting soil and pansies, all the while affirming my gratitude for the mother God gave me. On or near each subsequent Mothers Day I’ve planted annuals that decorate our home and give the neighbors something nice to look at as they walk past. But this year was remarkable in that three living generations got in on the traditional memorial to the mother, grandmother, and great grandmother who taught me what I taught Quinn who now teaches Cassidy (and her other two children). And thanks to Mauri’s excellent photography, you do too!