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Remembrances for Mom
African Proverbs:
"The usefulness of a well
is known when it dries."
"When an old person dies, a whole library goes up in flames."
When you’re young, your mother is just there – the anchor of your world. She’s the one in the kitchen,
singing as she cans peaches, the one who tells you bedtime stories
(the
stories of her childhood:
the time she hid the letter in the ditch
because she was afraid to walk downthe lane to the mailbox, the way
she and Mary cultivated corn – Mary driving
the team while she pushed the cultivator blades up and down, the pet lamb who ran around the
kitchen table, the time her Papa died …)
She’s the one who
makes your pretty dresses, and who reads you stories, the one who
makes you jello water and chicken noodle soup when you’re sick, who
walks you to school for the first time and tends the flowers in the
yard, who teaches you how to make snickerdoodles and doll clothes
… the one who painstakingly paints pink and white stripes on your
bedroom wall to match the striped curtains she has made …
… the one who greets you when you burst in the screen door with "Mom,
I’m home!"
She’s just always there – the anchor of your world.
Later, as you grow up, you start to realize that she’s also a person with
her own hopes and dreams –
* The professional, the RN who is
honored to be invited to do special training for work on the cardiac
unit
* The seamstress who can take a basic dress pattern and turn it into a one-of-a-kind garment that has her own, well-crafted style –
unique, not like the pattern
* The leader of the current affairs
discussion group, who keeps reading, learning, probing
* The
quilter, who takes pride in even stitches (10 per inch) and in teaching
others
* And the person who was determined to learn, to study,
even though her family circumstances meant she must stop school after
grade 8 to work as a maid and help support the family
… the one
who insists her children have the music lessons she never had and
always wanted, the one who said wistfully, when I talked about
sociology class: "That’s what I would have liked to study," the one
whose voice swells with pride when her son anddaughter earn
doctorates, and at her grandchildren’s academic accomplishments
… the ever-curious traveler, who ventures to Africa and around the
world
… the self-giving lover, who expends her energy and strength in loving care for her husband through difficult years of
coping with Altzheimers disease, and guards his memory
Mom, you are
so much a part of us – we all, in our various ways, carry forward the life you shaped in
us. We see you in:
* John’s memory for
detail and telling of stories
* Judy’s passion for justice and
love of order
* MJ’s interest in healing relationships
*
Ron’s work with biology as a response to disease, and his community and
church involvements
And we see you in the next generation as well, in:
* Mark’s humor and wit
* Daniel’s love of elegant
patterns
* Jacob’s gift for music
* Rebecca’s out-going
nature and closeness with friends
And we see you in all of us, in our love of learning and travel, our enjoyment of cooking and of learning
about different foods, and our curiosity about the world.
These last years, frail and struggling to cope with your physical
limitations, you became the one we cared for – a reversal of roles: the
person who ordered our world, needing to
rely on others to order
yours. It wasn’t easy – and because you always were a person with
definite opinions and preferences about how things needed to
be, you
pushed back! You struggled to hold onto your dignity and your control … until it was too much and you needed to let go and rest.
We honor you – a human person, with your strengths and weaknesses … a
person we sometimes had differences with … a person who wasn’t always diplomatic in the way you
expressed your opinions about our choices – but our Mom, and so a person whose foundation was love for us.
Mom, we’ll miss you. We love you. Rest well.
"When an old
person dies, a whole library goes up in flames." |