Remembering Mom...

Eighteen years ago today, I received a phone call from my Dad that changed everything.  He told me that my Mom had suffered a stroke and "...it doesn't look good."  I was in a meeting at the church, actually the last staff meeting before I moved back to PA to serve my first time as a "senior pastor."  I drove home to tell Nancy that I was driving to PA to see my mother.  Abby was only 8 months old.  Nancy told me to wait for them to get ready.  I said I couldn't wait.  The phone rang.  My Dad said, "No sense hurrying.  Your mother is gone."  Gone.  Dead.  The words eventually describe each of us--unless Jesus comes--but how could they describe my Mom?  She was so alive, so vibrant.  How could she be dead at 67?  But she was.  Grief mixed with anger.  Why would God do this?  How could He take my mother away, just when we were moving back to PA?  For nine years we had lived a six hour drive from "home."  Now we were to be about two.  Where was the justice in this?

Eighteen years later, questions remain.  The timing still stinks as far as I'm concerned.  My Mom who so wanted grandDAUGHTERS, having grown up with only brothers, having reared only sons, now has four granddaughters, and three great grandaughters, and she only saw one of them.  But eighteen years has helped me realize that for Mom the blessing of being in God's presence, of receiving the reward that comes to all "good and faithful servants" of Jesus, is more important than my comfort or sense of fairness.  Mom taught me to trust Jesus.  She showed me the unconditional love of Jesus.  She served God and others faithfully and nearly always joyfully.  She passed on a godly heritage.  I still wonder "why" sometimes.  Why didn't she get to be here to love and influence our daughters, and the rest of her long-awaited granddaughters and great granddaughters?  Then I realize--she DID.  In her influence on me, and my influence on them. That's the way it works in the family of God.  The blessings of godly parents are visited on their children and grandchildren.  That's no less true in our family, even though Grandma Ruth didn't get to be around long personally or at all for them.  Now, it's up to us--to her children to pass on the faith we saw in her, to the next generations.  Paul pointed that out to Timothy.  Timothy's faith "originated" in his grandmother, came "through" his mother and then to him.  Of course Timothy had to claim it for himself, but what a blessing to have the heritage!  Our daughters have claimed the heritage and are living its blessings even now.  Thanks, Grandma Ruth!  Thanks, Mom, for being a godly woman!