“The Season of My Mother”

September 5, 2010

For Whitney’s journalism class, she was asked to write a short one-page essay about a topic of her choice. There were two requirements. It had to be original, and it had to be a subject that none of the other kids would write about. Basically, it had to have a personal touch. She did write an essay, and she got an A+. I didn’t know she wrote it until she showed me the paper. I asked her if I could share it, and she allowed me to do so here.

“The Season of My Mother”

In the third chapter of Ecclesiastes, the author writes that there is a season for everything under Heaven. Flowers perfect their bloom in mid-Spring, only to wither away with the heat of the summer. Green summer valleys are soon replaced by the wrath of winter’s winds. To everything there is a season. There’s a time for war. There’s a time for peace. There’s a time to live, and there’s a time to die. Everything; everything, is put on this Earth in the exact moment of perfect time. That is also true in the life of love given to this world by my mother; Mrs. Caroline Spier. 1958-2009; 51 short years, but 51 amazing years in the lives of those who knew her. Just like a flower in full bloom, she was beautiful. From first to final breath, my mother’s season in existence was grand. It was her season. From the beginning of time, billions of humans have graced this planet. Some were born millions of years ago. Some will follow a million years from now. Everyone has his or her season in time. Sometimes, I catch myself admiring a sunset, and I wonder if my mother handpicked it for me to see. I soon stop myself when I realize that there are many children asking that very same question about their mothers, fathers, grandparents, siblings, or other loved ones who have finished their seasons on this Earth. I’m not alone. I’m surrounded by love. I’m immersed in beauty. I’m covered by grace. You see, my mother’s season, to some, didn”t seem that long. While it’s true that 51 years is such a short time compared to eternity, I can’t complain about a lack of time spent with her. She made every moment of her season on this Earth, and with us, count. She was an amazing mother. The lessons she passed on to her children will be the ties that bind the generations to follow. I like to think that somewhere in Heaven,  my mother and God are creating and molding the spirits of my unborn children. While they lay in quiet anticipation for their own seasons to arrive, I like to think that Mom is nurturing them the way she won’t be able to on this Earth. Never to be a grandmother down here, she will be a beautiful guardian angel on their shoulders. She now walks alongside ancestors before her; arm in arm with Jesus. She’ll continue to shine her love in our lives. Some seasons span 80 years. Some seasons never come at all. My mother’s season spanned 51 years. No more; no less. Her season was the exact number of days it was supposed to be; therefore, it’s hard to be upset that we didn’t get one more day with her. That was her time. One day, I will breath in the last of my own season, and I will fly up to meet her in Heaven; the land of no more suffering and pain. I will walk with my mother, and we’ll talk to each other as if death had never torn us apart.


3 Responses to ““The Season of My Mother””

  1. Sue said

    Oh, thank you for sharing just the right words.

  2. lamarbar1 said


  3. SDS said

    After reading this essay I know that Caroline was a wonderful person. Her season in this life was well lived. This essay is amazing. We can only pray that at the end of our season we will leave such a legacy. God Bless.

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