This Sunday is Mother’s Day. A very special time for many of us who have such special memories of our very special mothers. When I was a child, my mom was the person I ran to when I was in pain or hurting. Or when I was worried about God and other celestial matters, you can be sure I ran to her for advice. She was my first advisor after I learned I needed to give my life to Jesus. She never gave me any bad advice in these matters.

My mom didn’t put up with a lot of stuff, like some mothers might have. When her own mom over at Lula was told she had terminal cancer my mother decided right then to be with and care for her mom all she could. But Grandma lived in Lula and mom didn’t know how to drive. At first, she paid our pastor at Centrahoma (a dollar) to haul us to Lula from Centrahoma. But Brother Job had a 400-pound wife who went too and she used up most of his 1932 Chevy Coupe. So, it was very crowded. And then we would have to figure out a way to get home. Dad dismissed (out of hand) her requests to learn how to drive. Then she sequestered Gerald and me to teach her the gears. “I know how to steer,” she said, “but I don’t understand the shifting and that clutch thing. “

It wasn’t just the clutch it was also the brake thing, but we did our best and after about 15 minutes of intense training out behind our barn, she said, “I’m ready!” Gerald saidincredulously, “for what?” “I can drive,” Mom answered. The next morning, she sat me in the front seat, holding my baby sister Sue, and with Gerald on the running board giving prompts, we headed out north from Centrahoma on the dirt road toward Lula. We made about a mile and Gerald was frantic. “You’re still in 2 ^nd gear Mom!” he shouted. Also, we met a guy driving a pickup truck. We pulled over to the ditch, she made me and Sue get out and stand up against the fence. The man stopped

The man stopped and quizzed us a bit and went on. Later we found he gave a hilarious full report to the interested crowd in our grocery store. We made it to Grandma’s finally and in the months ahead made this trip quite often. She would sit and take care of my grandma Julia Armstrong, and this went on for about a year. Meanwhile, mom had become a legend in some county seats to driver’s license examiners. And she gave them plenty of chances to pass her, but they would not. The three of us, Mom, me and baby Sue tried Coalgate (twice), Ada, Wewoka and Holdenville but none took advantage, nor could they see any reason that they should license her. I think baby Sue had a better chance than Mom. Finally, Mom started all over again and when we drove up in front of the Wigwam Theatre there in Coalgate, next door to the license place, there was a commotion inside. The reaction was

The reaction was rapid. In the confusion that followed, the guy told Mom he was just going to give her the license but she was to stay off the highway as much as possible. (She didn’t.) When we returned to Centrahoma, she failed to set the brake and the Ford rolled into the side of Ben Flat’s 38 Chevy, caving in his rear door. Mom gave Mr. Flat a lecture on his parking, too. She drove cars the rest of her life but never changed her driving style nor her attitude much.

Mom did well in her life. She took good care of her mom till she passed away in 1940. She took care and helped a lot of people now that I think about it and continued her loving and caring ways till she was 98 and Jesus finally called her home. But she kept life sort of exciting. For instance, in Mom’s later years it was my custom to go to the nursing home every morning and check on her. One morning as I sped down Lee Street on my golf cart, I sensed a lot of commotion down there. I could see fire trucks and could hear sirens of other rescue and police equipment racing down to and toward the nursing home.

I could see it was all gathering at the Woodland Hills Nursing Home. There were at least 100 people, police, firemen, patients and concerned family members in the yard. A nurse ran up to me and said, accusingly, “your mother pulled the fire alarm!” I was somewhat mortified as I walked up to Mom, who sat there in her wheelchair — innocent looking. “Did you pull the alarm Mom?” I asked. “Yes, I did,” she replied. “And I just might pull it again.” She was unrepentant and continued so as she was taken back inside by her nurse. Mom always liked a good crowd, and she knew how to get one. As for me, I still may have had her confiscated driver’s license in my pocket, but, as always, she had my heart.

Have a good weekend and if you still have your mom, take her with you to church this Sunday.

Wayne Bullard, DPh cwaynebullard@gmail.com