Mama Schaefer

"Ships in harbor are safe, but that's not what ships are built for." --John Shedd

I was sixteen-years-old the first time I met Shirley Dona Schaefer. She embraced me and gave me a quick kiss on the lips. I was shocked and a little uncomfortable! She was a stranger and in my family we didn't do much by way of displays of affection, even amongst our relatives. Every day that I saw her afterwards, her hello's and good-bye's were always the same, kisses and hugs. Within a year, she was no longer Shirley to me, she was just Mama Schaefer. I didn't know how much I was missing in my childhood by not having it full of hugs and kisses until this sweet, little lady taught me their power. I took her lesson and spread it around, to friends, and other family members, and complete strangers, although I'm not bold enough yet to kiss a total stranger on the lips...the cheek, however? I'm there!

Mama Schaefer not only taught me the value of hugs and kisses, she also showed me how to balance a checkbook, how to put together a budget, and that kindness goes a lot further towards getting what you want than a snarky attitude. On 21 February of this year, Mama Schaefer lost her battle with cancer and in the two months since she's been gone, I've thought a lot about the other amazing ways she's nurtured my life all these years. She happily let me marry her youngest son and welcomed me into the family, then helped us move when my husband got his first duty assignment for the United States Air Force. She was one of the first people to meet and hold our oldest daughter, born 9 and 1/2 weeks premature (and sent me cards, flowers, and/or letters every day of the nearly three weeks I was in the hospital before our daughter was born). She cheered with both of my little girls at my college graduation and stood proudly while my husband became the first of her three sons to graduate from college, as well. Her fingerprints are all over every major milestone for the last twenty-nine years of my life.

Mama Schaefer read and saved everything I've written, including the first draft of Desperate Measures. When I gave it to her to read on a Sunday evening, she said, "It might take me a few days to read it, but I'll let you know what I think when I'm done." I told her to take her time and that I welcomed any feedback she wanted to give me. The next evening, she called me. "I'm done!" she said excitedly! "Well," I asked, knowing she'd give it to me straight if she thought it sucked. "I love it! When's the next one coming out?" she wanted to know. Months later, several days before she died, I was at the hospital visiting her and climbed into bed next to her, taking her frail hand and leaning my head against her shoulder. "Don't sit next to me, sweetheart. I smell horrible," she said. "Mama, I don't care about that. I want to snuggle with you and I'd want to do that no matter what!" She smiled and then squeezed my hand. We sat that way a long time, not speaking and then she whispered to me, "Don't wait. Don't wait for anything...publish your books, do things bigger than you ever imagined you could. Life is short. Fly, baby." I promised her I would. I'm keeping my promise, Mom. Time to fly!

*Image from bigbigbighug.wordpress.com

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