Through years of factory employment and then work as a coal miner, my father kept our family fed. But it was Mom who made our spirits soar, who insisted that the possibilities were out there...and she always convinced Dad that God was taking care of us.

My father would come home weary and depressed.  Adjusting the machines at Boise Cascade was exacting; there were always union concerns and rumors that the plants was closing.  After a little talk with Mom and a good meal, he bounced back. 

When our family became concerned that Pittsburgh was crowding our country hearts, my parents bought a "farmette" near Ligonier.  There, he became a coal miner at the age of 40. 

Our story was not remarkable.  Both my parents are now gone.  But the legacy of bubbly optimism, the belief that amazing things are right around the corner, still buoys me through dim life episodes. 

Were the miners on strike?  That was all right.  Mom had canned peaches, green beans, and numerous delicacies-enough to get us through a long, cold winter, actually.  If Daddy would just hike to the upper field and shoot a fat deer, we'd have venison for supper. 

Did the curtains seem shabby?  Mom stitched some more on her sewing machine from discount fabric. 

If money was tight, she sold Tupperware and Rubbermaid and Vonda Beauty.  She reupholstered furniture for people.  She babysat, taught piano lessons, and put up wall paper.  Those were only her gainful interests!  Her hobbies encompassed much more. 

Mom's rising spirits were not the "pull-yourself-up" kind.  She based her trust in God--an interested Creator who kept up with His children's names and needs.  She encourage us all to go to church--including Dad.  She devoted herself to Bible study.  When a crisis would come, she would speak her faith aloud.  Then, she would brainstorm all the ways we could pay the mortage, find a cancer doctor, or make a prom dress for under $15. 

I don't often think about the legacy Mom gave me.  In other ways, she wasn't perfect.  But I have an instant reaction to crises that came from her.  I immediately say, "Where are you, God, and what do you want me to do?"

I presume He's there.  I presume that some action will alleviate the problem.  And when I see the trial passing, I thank God for my mother, who modeled that faith that became my own.