A Tribute to My Mother

I appreciate all the folks who've called or e-mailed over the last few days wondering where I've been.  My mother passed away after a brief illness.  I was able to spend some wonderful time with her during the last week of her life.  And my brother and I, along with other family members and friends, laid her to rest next to my father this past Monday in their beloved mountains of North Carolina.  She was 89.

I hope you'll indulge me as I brag about what a great mother she was.  Mary Webb was born in 1919 in the tiny South Georgia town of Hahira.  Because she and my father were products of the depression, they were bound and determined that my brother and I would never want for anything.  My parents married in 1945 after Dad spent 39 months in South Pacific during World War II.  Like so many people from the rural South, they packed up their car and headed south in pursuit of the American Dream on Florida's Gold Coast.

Earl and Mary Webb on their wedding day, February 8, 1945, Valdosta, GA

One of my colleagues asked me the other day if my mother was a Christian.  I said, "Yes, and she's the reason I'm a Christian, too."  My father was a believer too, but Mom really wore her faith on her sleeve and taught me what it meant to work out my faith with fear and trembling.  When Jesus was asked about the greatest commandment, He responded, "You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind."  Mom put flesh and bones on that verse.

But everything she did was with all her heart, soul, and mind.  Although she never went to college, she had incredible business savvy.  In 1947, six years before I came along, she started a children's clothing store that would grow into a three-store ladies ready-to-wear. 

But she never let her work get in the way of being a terrific mother.  But because Mom did work so hard, I never did want for anything growing up.  My wife will probably tell you that Mom spoiled me rotten.

And she never stopped being a mom. She watched The 700 Club every day.  And whenever I wasn't anchoring the news, she would call me to find out why. If I happened to be sick, I could always count on her saying, "Bless your heart!"  I will miss that call. 

And The 700 Club has lost one of its most faithful viewers and contributors. She joined the Club in 1979, 15 years before I started working here.  And she never missed an opportunity to tell anyone who would listen what her baby boy did for a living.  Truthfully, she could be fairly embarrassing about that.

I'll share one anecdote that demonstrates the great love she had for my brother and me.  In 1968, my brother was an Army officer serving in Vietnam.  I was awakened one night by my mother's loud cries.  When I opened the family room door to see what was wrong, I discovered her kneeling at a couch, staring through her tear-soaked eyes at my brother's picture and pleading with God that He would spare my brother's life. 

Mom never knew I saw her that night, but in that brief moment, she taught me what it meant to cast "all your anxiety on Him, because He cares for you" (1 Peter 5:7).  I never had to go to Vietnam, but there were a few times I gave Mom reasons to cry out for my protection too.

Earl and Mary Webb on their 50th wedding anniversary

Mom was also a picture of selfless love as she loved and cared for my father during his long and painful battle with cancer.  He died in 1998 and she missed him terribly.  Their marriage of 53 years was a real love story.  They both taught me the great value of marital faithfulness.

I could fill several volumes with stories about my mother, but let me close by simply saying she loved Jesus.  And because of that, I'm a rich man having been the son of Mary Webb. 

Rest well, Mom.  You ran a great race!