An Interview with My Mother: Her Voice Still Speaks

Today’s challenge was to interview someone — a friend, a blogger, a parent, even the mailman. I decided to take an unorthodox approach: to imagine myself interviewing my late mother. That’s a pretty big challenge, and it might be presumptuous, since she went to be with the Lord in 2007. But her voice has always been there, speaking to me from beyond, counseling me and comforting me. I can hear her even now, so I tried my best to answer the questions the way she might have, based on what I know of her words, her faith, and her heart.

Mom in her younger years, when she was starring in *Romper Room* in Odessa, Texas.

“When you look back at your life, what’s one moment that really defined who you became?”

That’s a great first question. I always knew I’d be a wife and mother, even if other people felt I should have my name up in lights. I’m no fool — I know I’m talented. God blessed me with musical gifts that a lot of people would kill for. Those things come naturally to me, and I love being able to write, sing and play music for the glory of God. I don’t think I realized that was what I was doing when I was younger, but I did so love being up on stage and becoming someone else for a short time. And I did love the applause, but I knew it wouldn’t last. But when my first baby, Jeff, was born, I knew that was forever. Five years later, it was Doug. And that was forever, too. I was in rehearsals for The Sound of Music when he was born, and even though I was on stage a couple of weeks after he entered the scene, going back home to Doug and Jeff (and many years later to Cheryl) was more important to me than the cheers and adulation of the crowd. Yes, I could have chased the fame in Hollywood or on Broadway, but having one credit in a movie or play never would have equaled one day of the joy that I got from being their mother.

“What role did music play in your family life?”

I played and sang every day. And most days, I wrote, too. I was always making music. Early on, it was my own music. But around 1980, it started being His music. I devoted my life to worship and to leading others into worship. We were all — every person who has ever lived — created for the worship of the King of Kings, even if we don’t realize it. I was so blessed to find my calling in that worship of my Lord and Savior, and even more blessed to be able to lead others into that same reality. As for how it fit into my family life, they were my first congregation. I wanted my children to know and love Him the same way I did, and my heart was never more full than when I saw one of my children find their place in His world. Practically, I also tried to teach them the nuts and bolts of music, and I probably should have left that to other teachers. I thought I could teach my own children piano, in part because it was less expensive. But it was also less effective. Because it was free, they didn’t respect the lessons. If we’d been paying for it, they would have taken it more seriously. But one way or another, each of my children found their way into music. Jeff taught himself guitar. Cheryl majored in music education in college. And even though Doug never mastered any instruments, he has always used his voice to bless others, especially in worship.

“What were some of the hardest seasons you faced, and how did your faith and music carry you?”

Some mothers were shutterbugs, always photographing their families. I was a recording bug. I tended to use a tape recorder to document moments in my children’s lives, and in my own. I wrote and recorded five songs in my home — just me, my piano and the tape recorder. And it documented the pain, recovery and ultimate victory and joy I experienced in my life. I married young — probably too young — and Marvin and I had constant struggles in our marriage. I think we always wanted different things in life, and it ultimately led to our divorce. During this period, I wrote out my pain in song. That’s all I knew to do, so I wrote my feelings, starting by asking, “Where you going?” At the end of the journey, I wrote what is still I think is the best song I ever wrote — “Charley’s Song” — which I wrote for my second husband, Charles Fulton, who God brought into my life as my partner and soulmate. While I grieve the failure of my first marriage, I am so grateful that God brought healing into my life through my second marriage. God is so good.

Mom’s final portrait before she passed in 2007.

“If you could give your younger self advice, what would it be?”

I’m not perfect, even if people wanted to see me that way after I was gone. I wish I’d always gotten everything right, but we all have feet of clay. Everyone has things they struggle with — even little old me. I fought too much with Marvin. I lost my temper a little too much with my children. I was uncharitable at times when it came to difficult people in my life. The thing I wish the most is that I’d trusted the Lord sooner. I was always aware of the importance of God in each person’s life, and that’s why I constantly looked for ways to use my talents in church. But I didn’t become keenly aware of how important it was to have that personal relationship with Jesus until sometime in the late 1970s, and I wish that date had been a couple of decades earlier. He’s not just my Savior — he’s my best friend, and I wish that relationship had started so much sooner in my life. I think I’d tell my younger self that all of the applause and cheers didn’t hold a candle to one moment of knowing that the Lord was pleased with me.

“What do you most hope people remember about you?”

I heard somewhere that people will forget what you said and did, but they’ll always remember how you made them feel. I don’t know how true that is, but it seems true. The older I got, the more I realized how important other people are. I thought about the “little people” in my hometown of Carthage, Texas — you know, the people that most people either overlook or think of as being meaningless — and it hit me that “they’re somebody’s baby.” Everyone, no matter what they’ve become, was somebody’s precious baby boy or girl at some time in their life. And one day, God put it on my heart that I needed to treat them that way. Now. I wasn’t always great at it, but I tried to be. I wanted every person I encountered to feel like I treated them with the same love and care as their own mother. And as personally rewarding as it would be to have them remember me as a special person who made them feel great, I’d much rather have them think about why I did that. I love people, and I believe God gave them to us — all of us — as a gift. It’s hard to see them that way when they’re cursing you or saluting you in traffic with their middle finger. But people are a gift, and the Lord loves each and every one of them. I wanted to love them, too. And I wanted them to feel His love through me. They might remember me, but I really wanted them to remember Him more. So long after I’ve left this Earth, that’s what I want them to remember. Yes, I loved them. But I did it mainly because He loved me first and He wanted me to share that love with them.