My mother’s life was a life of quiet service. She was a contented and diligent homemaker, a devoted and patient mother, a loyal and hard-working daughter, a proud and boasting Grandma, and a quiet lady who knew how to listen well.
My memories as a young girl include vivid pictures of going along with Mom as she ministered to her parents and to the elderly in our congregation. She helped clean their houses, took them shopping, visited with them, and showed them Christ’s love by cheerfully ministering to their needs.
Her quiet diligence gave a secure routine and orderliness to our home. Meals were always on time (I did not inherit this trait), morning always included her personal Bible reading on the sofa (I understand now why she sometimes fell asleep), bedtimes always included kisses and tucking me in so tight that I could hardly move, and as I walked to the school bus every morning, when I turned around to wave goodbye, she was always at her bedroom window, peeking through the Venetian blinds, and waving back. I can’t remember ever coming home to an empty house; my mother was always there waiting for me. That was a gift that only she could give me.
She drove me to piano lessons every week for twelve years, sat through endless concerts and recitals, cheered her children and grandchildren on in every endeavor we tackled, and told any willing listener more than they probably wanted to hear about what we were all doing.
She taught me by her example to always keep my word, and she always urged me to finish what I had started, many times laboring along with me to bring a project to completion.
Mom’s life was a real-life picture of Jesus for me. She spent her days serving others instead of herself, and simply did the job her Father gave her to do. I rise up and call her blessed, and thank God for His love and hers.
“Whoever finds his life will lose it, and whoever loses his life for my sake will find it” (Matthew 10:39, ESV).