Before we headed down to Pennsylvania, we had two more tasks to accomplish. The first involved my learning (or re-learning) something new from my mom. I brought some fabric with me that I had bought in Guatemala. Hand weaved, extremely soft denim like material that is generally used for women's skirts. I had been wondering what to do with it, so I brought it east to my mom and her sewing machine. Okay, don't laugh. It was a simply project. We just made place mats and napkins. But still... I sewed! On a sewing machine! I may have to get one of those things.
The second task involved my seeing what my mom has learned. I was the first to begin a Christian in my family. Others followed... my sister a year later and my mom a few years after that. I soon was involved in leadership, eventually heading to seminary and becoming an ordained minister. My family has often seen me as a spiritual leader. I found out this week, though, that my mom has become quite the spiritual leader in her congregation. Mom was leading a bible study in the other room as I was sewing. I overheard some of the discussion. Enough to hear my mom offering her insights and advice, modeling a mature faith and challenging them to healthy, whole relationships. Enough to hear the responses of those attending who clearly looked up to her. So now it is my turn to say how proud I am of her.
3 comments:
I love this topic. As a teenager I did not respect my mom enough. As an adult I admire her SO much - just what she's been through, and her outlook on life. She has taught me so much about making lemonade when you are handed lemons.
great! with infinite hope, Jim
I remember the day I led Sandy to the Lord as if it were yesterday. Sitting on the bus on the way home from a Christian concert. I couldn't wait to tell you. Having your mother help deliver my son is obviously a blessing I will always cherish and never forget. And then there is you! Too many things to remember and write about here, but the memories are a gift from God.
My mother gave me a foundation for my faith in God as I grew up in the Catholic church. As I made my faith personal in a relationship with Christ, she cautiously watched my life, wondering if she had done something wrong. Over time I taught her to pray out loud, and now at meals she prays the Catholic grace and adds "and thank you Jesus for my daughter Patricia. Amen." I treasure our times together, because at 93-years old I don't know when will be the last time I talk to her on the phone or give her that last hug in person. At my father's funeral I read Proverbs 31 as a tribute to my mother. Jo, you and I are truly blessed by our mothers.
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