There is really no way to sum up the life of someone who lived it as fully as our Mom did.
She loved people, and could light up a room with her smile. She touched every person she met with her graciousness, and she lived a life full of gratitude. She loved music — all kinds. She marveled at nature — she loved the sea and the mountains, and the small things weren’t small to her — little birds and tiny shells were miracles to our Mom. She believed all things were possible — it really didn’t matter if they were or not, she would tell you “it was so.”
She believed in us, and if we heard the words “Honey, you can do it” one time, we heard it a thousand times.
She was a one person little freight train of faith that seldom stopped to take on water, and never ran out of steam… until now.
She loved the Episcopal Church, and she loved St. Clement’s. We’re blessed that she passed on her faith to us, a faith of magnitude and substance. Her eyes would literally sparkle as she shared a new revelation she had about Christ, or something beautiful she’d read or heard. And when she said she was praying for you, she meant it. I would joke with her often about having a direct line to Jesus, and would ask her to keep praying hard for one or the other of us, knowing we’d have a much better shot of being heard if it came from her.
I loved our conversations, especially about faith or the world situation, and would often try to turn them into little debates — just to get her going, knowing she was probably right. And in the end, if there was no resolution, she‘d often say, “You just need to hand this over to the Lord.” Very recently we were having one of those debates, and I was a bit put out with the conversation when she said, “Bill, hand it over to the Lord.” Well, I said, I didn’t know if I’d be talking to Jesus that day and wasn’t sure when I would be — so we left it at that.
Little did I know it would be the last full conversation we’d have.
About a week later I received a box from Amazon. I hadn’t ordered anything, so I was really curious what it contained. I opened the box — it was a book. And the title? “Jesus Calling.” I guess she thought if I wasn’t going to call on Jesus, she’d have him call on me. But how appropriate for what was about to unfold in her life.
Within weeks he finally called her to him — to his arms where she always knew she would find everlasting peace and light... as she chose to have sung at her service “…a joy like none others have known.”
I love you and miss you Mom.