Richard Hudson

Happy Birthday, Mom

My Mom was born on this date, August 18, in 1920.  She had polio as a baby and walked on crutches for the first few years of her life.  My Grandma Lee, Mom's Mother, was a Pentecostal preacher.  In those days they held services in various homes.  Some called those Cottage Prayer Meetings.  One night at one of the meetings they had prayer for my Mom that God would heal her from being crippled.  The next morning she got out of bed and walked to the breakfast table on her own.  She never used the crutches again as long as she lived.  The only way I know this is true is because I have seen numerous pictures of my Mom as a little girl on crutches with obvious physical deformities.  There were no after effects.  Her sisters and her brother also backed up the facts.  Even my 3rd grade school teacher told me that she remembered my Mom as a little crippled girl.  To me my Mom was a living testimony to the miraculous healing power of Almighty God.

Mama was a guitar player, much in the same style as Maybelle Carter of the famous Carter Family, and she also had a beautiful singing voice.  She taught me how to play guitar and we would sing duets at church when I was about 6 years old.  They would stand me on the altar so that people could see me.  It must have been quite a sight for a little boy playing a big old guitar and singing.

My Dad passed away in 1990.  After Daddy passed away, Mom would stay up late at night watching TV until she got so sleepy she couldn't hold her eyes open and only then would she go back to bed.  She and Daddy lived in and around Konawa, OK for their entire lifetimes.  On Thanksgiving morning, in 1992, my family and I drove from our home in Ardmore, OK to spend Thanksgiving day with Mama.  When we arrived at her house I could hear her TV and the front door was still locked, even though she knew we were coming.  I knocked on the door rather lightly, but no answer.  I knocked louder.  Still no answer.  I then rang the doorbell, but still no answer.  About that time a teenage boy whose family was friends with my parents came up and told us that his Mother had not been able to get my Mom to answer the phone all morning.  We found a window unlocked over the kitchen sink.  When I went inside, there sat my precious Mother in her recliner, with her pajamas on, all ready for bed.  She almost had a smile on her face.  She sat there looking so very relaxed, but sometime during the night before she died very peacefully in her sleep.  It was such a shock because there was no history of any kind of heart trouble with her.  

My Mom and Dad were good people.  They were not wealthy but they both never missed an opportunity to help anyone in need.  The community remembered that.  The building where they held my Dad's funeral could not hold all who came, so they sat up extension speakers outside for those who couldn't get inside.  It was almost the same with my Mom.

I have thought many times about how it is only by the Grace of God that my parents were Alvie and Christie Hudson.  I had no say so about that.  I will never measure up to what they were, but I am grateful to have had the privilege of being their son and learning from both of them.  I miss them both.

Richard

 

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