Linda Brooks Davis

Linda Brooks Davis | Measureless | Let’s Chat

Welcome, everyone!

A person with a flower in the hair

Description automatically generated with low confidenceMeasurelessness is a concept highlighted in my second novella, A Christmas Measure of Love. What comes to mind when you read this phrase?

Although unimaginable to our finite minds, even the distances to the farthest stars retain a sense of measure-ability. But the concept of measurelessness defies understanding. Somewhat like eternity. Right?

If I were compelled to name one measureless something other than God and eternity, I would answer without hesitation, “My mother’s love for me.” She passed into Glory in 1995, but every year on her birthday, Mother’s Day, and when I’m writing about a fictional mother, my mother’s spirit hovers near. And my heart remembers. In fact, her love for me inspired my second novella, A Christmas Measure of Love.

Mother Love

Goldie Leona Banks Brooks was no shrinking violet. Or pansy. She was more like the lantana and verbena that bloom in Texas most of the year. I doubt she’d delight in this comparison but hear me out.

First, these hardy plants thrive in heat and drought and aren’t fussy about the soil. They add bold color to the garden and require zero tending. They’re dependable and determined, and they find a place to bloom, invited or not. They don’t give off fancy fragrances, but they don’t apologize either.

A person and person standing in front of a house

Description automatically generated with medium confidenceMother’s favorite flower was the rose (with the orchid coming in a close second). I think she admired their delicacy, and I know she loved the scent of the rose. It’s a good thing she was neither a rose nor an orchid, fragile and fussy about her surroundings. She wouldn’t have managed as a Great Depression farm wife otherwise. Nor would she have survived twenty-five trying years of widowhood, holding onto the home and farmland she and Daddy worked so hard to acquire.

A person holding a baby

Description automatically generated with low confidenceGirl Thoughts

When Mother’s birthday appears on the calendar each year, I return to memories of growing up as Goldie’s girl. She had always wanted a daughter, but by 1941 she had given birth to three boys and buried one. So, when in 1946 her doctor confirmed she was expecting another child, all she could think were girl thoughts.

Thereafter, she made a pest of herself among church friends, asking them to pray for God to give her a girl. (Truthfully, they ran the other way when they saw her coming. 🙂 ) She threaded her days with incessant prayers of her own. Please give me a girl.

But in time she convinced herself it was better to build a wall of defense around her heart than to leave it exposed to disappointment. So, when she entered the clinic to deliver her fourth child on the 5th day of September, she told herself she and Wilson were destined for a household of boys. (Would she have traded either of her precious boys for a girl? Never!) 

Two girls sitting on a bench

Description automatically generated with low confidenceGirl Time

So, when the doctor announced, “It’s a girl,” she heard “It’s a boy” and held tears in check. Until Daddy entered her room with a huge grin.

“What’re you crying about, Goldie?”

“Another boy.” Sniff, sniff.

“No. It’s a girl.”

“Stop teasing me.” Blub. Blub.

“Goldie, we have a girl.”

She shook her head and turned away.

Then the doctor entered the room. “You did it, Goldie. You got your girl.”

Wiping her face with a sheet hem, Mother sat up. 

And the rest is … Well, it’s proverbial history packed with mother love and gratitude. And a lesson learned: Never underestimate the power of a mother’s love—or her prayers.

A picture containing text, person, wall, person

Description automatically generatedA black and white photo of a young child smiling

Description automatically generated with low confidenceLater, the preacher wrote to friends who had moved away. 

Praise the Lord! Wilson and Goldie have a girl! Little did anyone know at the time, but eleven years later, Goldie was to have another baby–a boy again, but–oh–how great was the rejoicing. Frankly, it was measureless. But then, so was Daddy’s. They made it easy for me to grasp how deep and wide, long and high God’s love for me is.

I pray that you may have power, together with all the Lord’s holy people, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ …
Ephesians 3:17-18 NIV

Indeed, Mother was like our Texas lantana and verbena.

Strong. Stubborn. Self-sufficient. At times, overly so. She asked no one to wait on her or tend her. But—oh—how I wish I could.

Lord, how weak is our faith. We often pray, doubting. 
Help us to pray, trusting.
For Jesus’ sake.


Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. 
Philippians 4:6 

8 thoughts on “Linda Brooks Davis | Measureless | Let’s Chat

  1. Hello again, Linda. I feel like I should be re-introducing myself, it’s been so long since we “chatted”. My mom reminds me of yours. Her faith was steadfast indeed. Thank you for sharing one of the most important parts of your personal history.
    Suffice it to say, we have been going through some difficult, but also rewarding, times of our lives. We have been relocating, dealing with medical issues and much more. No complaints! God is in control (though I hesitate to use “catch-phrases”).
    So thankful you continue with your ministry by email, and highlighting other authors’ books and enriching their lives.

  2. Loved seeing these pictures of years ago. So precious. Love the Brooks family and the treasured memories I have of our childhoods together. Dale kinda missed out on part of the fun we always had. But what a blessing he was to your family!! I will never forget being at a football game at ACU when I hear this laugh behind me. It was unmistakenly Dale. Sure enough, I turned around and there he was!!

  3. What a beautiful story of your family and your mother’s determination. She and my mom were both cloned from The Great Depression’s shaping hands. Though my mother’s strength and endurance of loss got her through so much, she was also a shaper of my soul. Miss her — and my dad with whom I more closely identify. Thanks for sharing!!

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