Because you cultivate the earth, you understand the importance of a finely fibrous, deep, broad root structure. It’s what is below that helps the plant survive the stresses above.

No matter where planted, roots seek nourishment from whatever sources are available.

The same is true for all of us fortunate enough to have families — specifically, parents — who raised us "right," with love, discipline and respect. I was blessed with parents who did that, I believe. Sadly, my siblings and I said goodbye to our mother in mid-December. She was diagnosed after Thanksgiving with a very aggressive brain tumor that took her from us within weeks. We were shocked at the voracity of this cancer, praying that it would be swift yet not wanting our mom to go this way…

I will miss Mom a lot. She was there for us when we needed her — either in person, such as when she came out for extended stays (she was here after the births of our three children) or being available via telephone for long conversations. Our birthdays are back to back in March, so I know I will be thinking of her a lot.

Growing up, I took a lot for granted, as I think most kids do. Your mom does certain things, and it’s just her way. Later, you appreciate all those "little things," and some you emulate. I will always remember my mom as I plant morningglories and tulips; when I bake cherry pies (she added almond extract); and when I make candied fruitcake, meatloaf and creamed potatoes, green tomato sweet relish and pickled beets.

Mom was a young gal from town when she married my dad. She learned to be a dairy farmer’s wife — feed the work crew, raise and can vegetables and fruits, hang laundry on the clothesline — from my maternal grandmother. She also was the reliable "go-fer," shuttled her share of farm wagons and took corn to the elevator (with us kids packed in the truck’s front seat, straddling the stick shift on the floor) to grind for cattle concentrate. Even though we had the farm to keep us close to home, Mom made sure we had activities to keep us well-rounded. She spent countless hours in the car, driving us to athletic events, 4-H and music lessons over the years.

I look at my piano and I see Mom, quietly encouraging us to practice. When I played basketball in high school, she attended every game, even when it meant traveling alone an hour or more on country roads. She often was the only parent in the away bleachers. When we were in 4-H, she would not let us quit halfway through a project. We had to finish it, even if it was the night before the county fair.

As holidays come and go, I will fondly recall her preparing for the season when we were youngsters, adorning our old farmhouse with various construction-paper decorations (she made the coolest black witch silhouette pasted on a yellow moon for Halloween!); a wicker cornucopia filled with papier-maché fruit; a homemade Advent wreath and large outdoor red plastic electric candles that precariously balanced on our rickety front steps.

I know there is much, much more I will miss and grieve.

Yet, I know where Mom is — Dad, too — and will one day join them. I take great comfort in that. Mom was my prayer warrior, tucking Lutheran "Portals of Prayer" into my college suitcases, hoping I’d read them. She had broad roots herself, especially in religious upbringing. She often credited her maternal aunt and her husband, a Methodist minister, with laying her faith foundation. She later joined the town’s Baptist church and then became confirmed in the Lutheran faith upon her marriage to my dad. Mom deeply believed in serving others and putting her family first. She often had an encouraging word for all, always giving someone "the benefit of the doubt." She served her Lord and others with joy and thankfulness in her kind heart.

Indeed, my siblings and I have plenty for which to thank our parents. For giving us roots, our foundation, and for allowing our wings to grow, become strong, and then gracefully letting go.

That is our parents’ greatest legacy.