Mom Died

Mom Died.

She died last Tuesday—almost a week ago now. She was ninety-one.

And she kept growing in faith, love, joy, peace and wisdom, every one of those years.

I was with her the last two weeks of her life, watching her go down and down.

At the end, it was so soft. She went out like a lamb.

But her life—her faithful impact on so many lives—was powerful.

Like a Lion.

She had suffered quite a bit, kept down with morphine and other drugs in massive doses.

The cancer seemed to be attacking non-vital tissue.

So the end brought feelings of relief as well as sadness.

Her long, happy life, and especially her faith in the God Who gave it to her, made it so much easier for her and all who love her.

Afterward, it seemed somewhat anti-climactic. The great-great grandchildren, and great-grandchildren, in whom she had so delighted and who were the only source of her smiles near the end, were playing wiffle ball and riding on the four-wheeler; and us adults were eating from the generous mounds of food brought lovingly by so many of our friends. We were all laughing and enjoying each other.

That's exactly how Mom would want it—and me too, when my time comes.

She only went to the sixth grade; something I think she didn't want people to know. And they would've never guessed it from knowing her. She wrote poetry. And taught herself to play the piano.

Her poetry and journal entries flow in deep currents of faith, gratitude to God for her husband, children and family; love and prayers for her family, love of nature, and assurance of heaven.

Here're a few samples:

“I lift up my arms in praise to Thee,

I abide in You, and You abide in me.” [from “The Smoke {After Dad's Miracle}”]

“When I get up in the morning and the dew is on the ground

I can only stand in awe and look around

The earth is such a beautiful place

It makes the tears run down my face.” [from “Thanksgiving”]

“Thank You Lord for sharing with us this cup o' tea.

You've made the years just right for my husband and me.” [from “The Golden Years”]

“Thank You Lord for the Golden Years

For all our grandchildren; they're all our dears.” [from “Grandchildren”]

“I walked down in the meadow with my Bible in my hand.

I was sitting upon the beautiful grass, grown by Mother Earth.

The Sun kissed me.

The Brook talked to me.

My Lord embraced me.

Hallelujah!”

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Most amazing to me is a poem she wrote in the 80's.

I called her from my office in Covington in Feb., 2006. I knew she'd written some poetry, but never shared it with anyone, so I asked her to dictate some of it to me by phone.

She pulled out her little book, which I now have in my possession, and started reading while I wrote as quickly as I could.

She came to one entitled “From Jesus,” written over a decade before our phone conversation. She'd forgotten about it. Here it is:

“Rest now my love; it's time to rest

You're going home to the Very Best.”

The smell of flowers is delightful

My nose smells with joy.

The day has come forever to be with the Lord.

“I'll carry you away on the wings of a dove.”

Oh, what precious Love!

Today is tomorrow

I leave all my sorrow

Behind me forevermore.

What's it like, my Love, to fly? To never die?

To fly away with Thee?

To soar above the clouds?

The Day of the Lord has come, waiting with open arms,

To hold me close forever with His Love.

I'll charge through the open gate! Oh, the beauty of it all!

But wait just a moment! The Lord is making a call!

“Hello down there. Your Mom is home.”

Realizing the theme of this poem, we both started crying. She was as surprised as I. She said, through her tears, “The Holy Spirit gave this to me. It's like the Lord has already preached my funeral.”

I read it at her funeral service on Saturday.

Welcome home, Mom.