We are so grateful.
We have been gifted with the sweetest mom and have been the beneficiaries of her life…which was spent loving us well.
Our mom was a study in contrasts. She was sometimes reserved, sometimes outgoing. She could be rather shy in large social settings, but would bend over backwards to make guests feel welcome and cared for in her home. We have always thought that mom “did home” exceptionally well.
She could be strict, yet sometimes amazingly permissive. For example, for 362 days a year, she watched ever so carefully to make sure we ate appropriately. Fruits and vegetables at meal times; sensible portions on sweets. Water or tea was always a better choice than soda; an apple better than a Little Debbie snack cake.
But on Easter?
Every single one of those rules went out the window. You want to eat the entire head and tail off your chocolate Easter bunny before church? Go ahead. Just don’t get your clothes smudged in the process, please and thank you.
The other two days she quietly and unobtrusively deviated from her own rules were Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. Each of us can remember a table in the corner of the dining room…covered with a red Christmassy table cloth…and then covered again with candy dishes – some of them ornate and some simple – but each filled the best of good things.
Pepper nuts and Russian tea cakes. Peanut clusters and chocolate covered almonds. Pecan pies, pumpkin pies, chocolate pies, peanut brittle. Not enough? Have some ginger snaps and fudge just to round out that sugar coma. And then to pile happiness on top of happiness, she would bring out her homemade cinnamon rolls…baked just that morning and topped with homemade icing. As adults, we found ourselves wondering if she ever went to sleep on the 23rd and 24th of December. In any case, to be a kid in our house at Christmas… oh, my goodness!
Momma would garden every spare minute during the halcyon days of May and June, creating landscapes of pink and yellow, lavender and blue, and every possible shade of green. Her rose garden was just what a rose garden should be. She could somehow coax green and growing things to bloom all summer…impatiens, marigolds, geraniums and pansies seemed to want to thrive in her flowerbeds. The Master Gardener shared a bit of His artistry with mom…giving her mind and hands an innate knowledge and appreciation of beauty.
Keeping up with six kids, a husband and living on a farm takes time, you know…which is another way of saying mom was always busy. She played though, too. One of our favorites was when she wrapped the day up and put a baseball bow on the top of it…ending the evening with an impromptu game. Our mom was a lot of things, but a stellar baseball player wasn’t one of them. Still, you’d think you were at the World Series when her bat connected with a slow pitch from Don or Pete. We knew baseball wasn’t where her strongest talents lay, which only made us cheer like crazy when she got a base hit…regardless of which side we were on.
Coming down the stairs on a school morning with our books in one hand and a crumpled tissue in the other, saying “Momma, I don’t feel very good” was generally met with two things: first a sympathetic hug, and then an honest glance. Her sweet “Come here and let me take your temperature” was generally followed by “You better be serious, honey…is there something going on at school I should know about?” If we were sick enough to stay home, she made us a bed on the couch in the living room where she could more easily keep an eye on us as she went about her busy day. She would often stop by our make-shift bed to check in on us, lean down with a soft kiss for our foreheads and tuck the covers snug and tight round us. We can remember trying to lie still so that the covers would stay just exactly the way she had placed them.
At times like these, the tendency is to highlight only the good, the perfect, the lovely things about a person, as if the sainthood given them in Eternity is somehow transferred retroactively…back to when they were here, bound in time. But I think that’s unrealistic, even unfair in a sense. Some of what made mom who she was (and is) was made as she recognized her faults…and then worked to overcome them. Momma struggled with issues common to anyone possessing courage enough to be honest about themselves. She got mad. She said things she shouldn’t have. She was impatient at times. But, she could see those things in herself and worked to master them. An apology from mom was a gift, as any true apology should be. Given with sincerity, kindness and the vulnerability that accompanies any truly meant “I’m so sorry.”
And, there’s the difference, of course. Those who know themselves well are under no false illusions of piety…they know exactly what they’re up against because they fight those weaknesses daily. Momma did that.
What a sweetheart.
*****
It all started on a cool and breezy day in March. A rich heritage of faith filled her heart with hope and provided purpose to her life.
Momma met the love of her life as a young lady of 19. On January 28 she married our tall and handsome daddy. Becoming a wife was one of the defining moments of her life. Daddy and mom made a happy, happy home for all six of us kids and we have such sweet, fun memories of momma creating her masterpieces in the kitchen, picnics at the Heights, trips to Colorado in an old brown and tan station wagon, helping dad with home-made ice cream on the back porch. The rooms in that old-fashioned farmhouse would ring with snatches of song as mom sewed or baked, the laughter of kids of various ages, and the clamoring of half a dozen pairs of feet as we raced down the stairs to get to the car for church.
One of the fun things about our family is the natural division between the “three big kids” and the “three little kids”. The five year gap between the older kids and the younger ones provided the dividing line. Those of us in the younger group were routinely told “you guys get away with murder…Mom would never let us do that!” Momma may have had six of us vying for her attention, but she made each of us feel special, noticed and cherished.
Life for our mom was full of joys and sorrows, challenges and blessings. She faced the loss of loved ones with an unwavering faith – and in so doing provided a foundational example we can follow during these hard days when the pain of her leaving us is fresh and stark.
When momma slipped into heaven Wednesday evening, she had a small crowd waiting to cheer her Home. It’s hard to find words that faithfully represent how much we will miss this beautiful one. But isn’t it amazing to think that all the good, sweet things she did while she was here are in God’s safekeeping? They will never, ever fade. There’s a certainty to the joy that we feel right now; even though we hurt. We had her to enjoy for so many years and she is completely and perfectly happy. She lived well and loved well…and that means that we can grieve well.
So, beautiful momma, we know that you are safe. We have His promises that you are, and of course He means what He says.
“Well done, good and faithful servant. Come! Share in your Master’s happiness.”