by Caleb Jones
Long before I convinced Lindsey to marry me, I learned I was going to have to earn it. If memory serves me right, I sent her flowers every day for a week before she would even return my call. Some men fall in love at first sight. I apparently signed up for a seven-day floral payment plan.
That probably should have been my first clue that I wasn’t going to be the one calling the shots. Not much has changed.
I may have the title of CEO at work, but at home, I know who’s in charge – and it’s not me.
People say one of the most important decisions you’ll ever make is who you marry. The older I get, the more I understand that. The person you walk through life with shapes your happiness, your success and the kind of home you build.
But as important as that is, the greatest impact Lindsey has had on my life isn’t what she’s done for me. It’s what she’s done for our kids.
Like most families, we’ve had our share of weekends where one kid is headed to a basketball game while the other is off to a dance recital. In those moments, I’m usually trying to figure out where we’re supposed to be and whether anyone has seen my wallet. Meanwhile, Lindsey stays calm and keeps everything moving.
When I look at Max and Charlie, I see so much of her in them – her kindness, her humor and her steadiness. I’d like to think I’m helping shape them into good people, but if I’m being honest, Lindsey is doing most of the heavy lifting.
That’s the thing about mothers. So much of what they do happens without recognition. There are no awards for making sure homework gets done, lunches get packed and uniforms get washed. There’s no title for being the one who remembers what everyone else forgets.
It’s not glamorous, and it’s not easy. But the results show up in the people being raised under that roof.
I lost my mom when I was 11 years old. At that age, you may not have the words to describe what a mother means, but you know when that kind of love and steadiness is gone. The older I’ve gotten, the more I’ve come to appreciate what mothers do in all these everyday moments.
Maybe that’s why I don’t take Lindsey for granted. And, that’s why Mother’s Day means more to me than just flowers, cards and remembering to make supper reservations.
Around rural Missouri, we talk a lot about the electric lines stretching across the countryside. They may not get much attention, but they’re the lifeblood of our communities. In a lot of ways, mothers are the same.
This Mother’s Day, I’m thankful for Lindsey. And I’m thankful for all the mothers across rural Missouri whose love and sacrifice keep the lights on at home in ways that matter far more than we can measure.
Caleb Jones is the CEO of Missouri Electric Cooperatives. He is a member of Boone Electric Cooperative.