by Deborah Murphy

Created on: July 14, 2007

THE GARDEN MY MOTHER GREW

Do you remember the hymn "In The Garden"? It was written by C.A. Miles. The chorus for those of you who can remember the melody... "And he walks with me, and he talks with me, And he tell me I am His own; And the joy we share as we tarry there, None other has ever known..."

We sang that hymn at both the memorial services (Scarborough - May 19 and Fenelon Falls - June 16) that we held in memory of my Mom. It was one of her favourites. She died 11:00 am, Monday, May 7, 2007.

I think that I will skip over saying more about the memorials to tell you about her 74th birthday party.

Celebrating our loved ones in life-rather than in death-seems just such a practical thing to do. I wanted that for Mom to thank her for the life she had given me.

Everyone invited, was asked to imagine all of the things they would say if Mom was already gone; so that they could tell her how much they cared while she was able to listen and enjoy. She was thrilled. We raised $400 by having people post money on a drawing of a tree. Who says that money doesn't grow on trees?! The party was a potluck dinner held at a church (in Scarborough, Ontario) she had so loved being part of the congregation. The facilities (including a huge commercial kitchen and a piano for sing song) were provided for free. There was food for days. What's more, I think that Mom spent the rest of year sending that you cards and renewing friendships.

I am 50+ years old. For as long as I can remember, I can see the look of sweet rapture on Mom's face whenever she heard someone playing "In The Garden". It might have be because her sister Mary Ross(decease for some years now) played it on the piano at man of our family gatherings during moment of singsong.

Mom's garden was not really about growing flowers. I doubt that she ever pulled a single wee in any yard where she lived. At least, she never did in her adult life. Growing up on a farm in Listowel (originally Lebanon), Ontario might have influenced that point. By the time she died, Mom could not ever water her indoor plants.

What my mother grew was people.

Throughout my childhood, Mom fostered children from the Children's Aid Society. There were a lot of children that came through our in my life. The last one left only when she completed college at age 22.

Please don't misunderstand me. Mom was not a saint. I left home at 15, because we were always fighting. Our home-life was not always cam. In as much as I was difficult to raise, she was good at creating

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