As the years go by, more and more memories of Mom come to mind. She’s been in heaven now for five years. On the anniversary of her and Dad’s passing from this life into the place Jesus had prepared for them, I text my siblings, “One day as a thousand years and a thousand years as one day!” (2 Peter 2:8).
Just the other day, I found myself breaking down, standing in the middle of my kitchen, sobbing because I missed Mom. She would have chastised me for my foolishness, wasting time in the middle of preparing dinner to cry for her, who is having the time of her life in heaven, discovering secret hideaways and delights around every corner, her and Dad giggling, holding hands and running (yes, those glorified bodies we will receive will be able to run in heaven! Philippians 3:21) through plush green carpets of grass, the colors and aroma of the flowers they encounter along the path so vibrant and fragrant they cannot be described! (1 Corinthians 2:9)
Mom was never one to feel sorry for herself and she did not allow us to do that either. “It’ll get better before you’re married” was one mantra we heard many times as we whined about this or that, her scoffing our self-pity. But on the flip side, she was an encourager as well.
Adjusting to my first job was very stressful. I had never ventured out on my own and being raised on a farm at the end of a dead-end road, we were much protected. I’d come home crying from the trauma of that first job and she encouraged me, “Stick with it, Kay! You can do this, you’re not a quitter!” Because of her, I did stick with it and, in the process, learned so very much about persistence and responsibility.
One of my co-workers was temperamental and I’d become dismayed at the frustration that caused. She’d always say, “Kay, kill him with kindness!” (Years later the verse about heaping burning coals on your enemy’s head came to mind. Proverbs 25:21-22)
Mom had an abundance of love for all of us and we knew it but rarely did we hear, “I love you,” instead, her love was a hands-on active love, being there for us through a thick-and-thin type of love. My youngest sister had two of her children in St. Paul, Minnesota, as her husband was studying for the ministry there. Mom, bound and determined to help my sis out with her new babies, hitched a ride on a semi-trailer truck, driven by her nephew!
When my husband and I adopted our oldest son, we made the long drive back home from Chippewa Falls. It was an early fall evening as we approached our farm house. Mom and Dad were there waiting for us and Mom had turned on every light in the house, like a beacon. It was symbolic of the warmth of her love and acceptance. It blessed me so much and I burst into tears. She was embracing the newest member of our family into our extended family with open arms and a loving grandma heart. Mom and Dad met us at the door, smiling through their happy tears. I will never forget it.
The other day I asked my oldest sister how she would describe our dear momma. She said, “Sense of humor, protective, trout chef, interested in our lives, good listener, seamstress, hard-working, loved our father, made sure we went to Sunday school and church.”
I inquired of my younger sister what memory she had of Mom. She emailed me this response: “’A mighty fortress is our God…’ these were the words I heard as my family and I sat next to an attentive mother in hundreds of church services throughout our formative years. She, to us, was a fortress that paved the way for our present fortress of faith in God. Thank you, Mom, for being a fortress to us all!”
Asked the same of my sister-in-law (my other sister, I call her) she responded, “First thing that came to mind was how I always admired how she’d get on the floor to play with grandchildren. And I admired how her children had great respect and love for her and I knew that was what I wanted with my own children.”
Mom simply and completely, took care of us. As each one of us left the nest to make our homes with our spouses, she focused on Dad. She would make sure that he had everything he needed, his shirts were pressed and he had the right tie for the right suit for church, many times matching her own outfit. She’d prepare meals with portions just right for Dad and holiday meals were a masterpiece of color and texture and abundance.
She was very attentive to detail. One year for Christmas to make sure the kids were all remembered and thought of with love, she wrote the name of every grandchild on a clothespin which secured their own Christmas stocking on the fireplace of their little house in town.
She’d also have a guessing game where each one of us would write down a number we thought was inside the jar, complete with prizes for the winners, divided into age brackets. Every year it was a different concoction. One year she had buttons, (she was an excellent seamstress), another time it was candy corn or M&Ms. During the awfulness of 9/11 she had red, white and blue stars out of respect for the tragedy.
In her later years, God granted us the privilege of spending sweet quiet time with Mom, one-on-one and also gathered as a family. Numerous times, each one of us individually thanked her for all she did for us, let her know she did a wonderful job, she was a great mom and we loved her. She told us in those last couple of years that she loved us, too, whispered this time, with great effort and emotion.
That one day, as she slipped into the arms of Jesus, I was holding her hand in one of mine, and my Dad’s in the other, sitting between their beds in their nursing home room. Quietly the angels came and she was gone. Gone physically, yes, but always, always close in my heart. I love you, Mom.
(“Her children arise and call her blessed; her husband also, and he praises her. Many women do noble things, but you surpass them all. Charm is deceptive and beauty is fleeting; but a woman who fears the Lord is to be praised. Give her the reward she has earned, and let her works bring her praise at the city gate.” Proverbs 31:28-31)
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