never seed a pomegranate in a white hoody and other such advices

I was seeding a pomegranate in my white hoody and managed to get the blood red juice everywhere. I guess it's not surprising that when i was a teenager my friends were going to buy me a book that told me what stained and what would wash out. I think i like to get dirty. Anyways, it made me think of my mom. For some random reason i suddenly remembered this conversation we had when i was a child. I remember re-telling her some story about the latest hollywood star and how amazing, beautiful and talented they were. My mom smiled at me from our large brown couch and said, "Stephanie the 'stars' are just people, like you and me." today i hold the same value as my mom. A value that all people are equal and stand before God the same regardless of status, prestige, wealth, education, beauty, talent, (place your favourite social value here), etc. I guess i'm just remembering what i've been raised in. Only as an adult (can i call myself that?) have i come to realize what a great value system my parents held and how they truly lived it out. i am so blessed to have been brought up with their examples.
My parents were both hippies at one point, both valued nutrition/health, the environment, equality, love and servanthood. Therefore i grew up eating what i thought disgusting healthy food, recycling EVERYTHING that could be recycled and wearing hand-me-down clothes. Of course no child admires these things when they are young. It's just annoying and uncool. My mom would drive us to school in a brown rusty station wagon that was practically falling apart, stalled at every corner and made loud noises in the cold winter. I was embarrassed. My mom thought, "Use it until it's broken." she (and my dad) had a sense of "waste not, want not." some people have nothing. We have a car to get around in, and look! it talks to us!
When i was little everyone compared what their moms made them for their lunches. I remember having sandwiches made of more seeds than bread substance, trying to transfer as much crumbling "bread" from my fingers into my mouth as possible; and an apple for dessert. I always envied the kid who got chips and sandwiches on beautiful white bread.
My mom always told us we were beautiful. That we could do anything we wanted. That we were loved no matter what happened, whether we got bad grades or not, whether we made the team or not, whether we quit piano (ahem..) or not!
My mom painted, danced, played outdoors, went on sleepovers with friends in her 40's, wrote poetry, baked, made crafts, played guitar, took care of the elderly. She was (is) amazing. But as i grow up and look back what is most amazing about my mom amidst her various talents and admirable qualities - she loved.
My dad told me a couple months ago something that brought tears to my eyes. He said that when my mother was dying and was asked what she wanted to do at the great banquet feast in heaven her reply was, "I want to serve."
That's my mom!! Her life to me is the greatest of advices!