Remembering Mama

Today is the anniversary of my mother's death.  I wrote the original version of the following 10 years ago, and updated it only a little.  That's all it needed; some things never change.

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She was a Depression baby, born to a family hit hard, dressed in homemade clothes and love.

She was a tomboy, playing baseball and mumbledy peg and shooting marbles in the cinders in the alley. She drew constantly, sketches in notebooks and on scrap paper. And she read-- Lord, she read.  Zane Grey and Frank Yerby, adventures and history, fiction and biography. New books of any sort were relished, and old favorites were cherished as old friends.  "Don't ask which ones to bring home from the library; start in the 'A's' and work your way around."

She was smart. It took her five years to graduate college (the first in her family) but she had 4 degrees when she was done: Math. Physics. History. Government. "Everything’s worth knowing, and there's no such thing as wasted education. "

She married a boy she met in her high school geometry class-- the swimmer with the wavy hair and the ice blue eyes. Together they raised three children: demanding, challenging, and inordinately proud parents.    "Never settle for less than your best.""Why yes, they are marvelous, aren't they?"

She was a "doer." Episcopal Church Women and Sunday School teacher, golf lessons and painting lessons, garden club president and PTA room mother. "Everything's a challenge: find the most efficient way, get it done quicker, so there's time for more of what you want to do. "

She was a survivor. Diagnosed with a neuro-muscular disease, she was put to bed at 38 and told to stay there or she might not see 40. The kids were 13, 10 and 6.   No more doing, except in her head. And she smiled, and continued loving and learning. The master bedroom became the family room and stayed that way. She kept track of the world, figured out the stock market, and taught those kids to deal with life, all from the left side of a king-size mattress.  Like everything else, she learned to manage, to get the most out of what she had. "That's life, and at least I'm still here to live it. "

Fifteen years ago today she died, but she still touches me when I least expect it.  Her hands on my keyboard. Her voice when I answer the phone.  Her scent on the blouse in the back of my closet.

Love you, Mama.

Rector’s Corner

I wrote this for our upcoming parish newsletter.  Nothing profound; just thought I'd share.

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On days like this, it’s hard to stay indoors.  The skies are clear and the temps are warm (but not too warm yet!).  The yard was beckoning as I ate breakfast, and I’m almost sure I heard a siren's song calling me from the corner by the door where my sneakers and garden gloves reside.  I want to be out walking, or digging in the dirt, or... well, something other than sitting at the computer, anyway. 

But here I am.  And one good thing about it is that I can look out my office window and I see that I’m not the only one itching to be outdoors.  Every day there are parents who bring young children to swing or slide or climb on our playground equipment.  Older children come on their own to play catch in the grass, or ride their bikes and skateboards up and down and around the parking lot.  As I go in or out the office door, I’ll notice the occasional neighbor (adult or child) walking the labyrinth.

Those of us who drive to church from elsewhere in the Tri-Cities sometimes forget how much a part of this community we really are.  Some churches with buildings in more commercial locations only have neighbors during business hours; but life on this residential street stirs around us and touches us 24/7. 

Jesus talks a lot about neighbors, and about the importance of loving them-- something so important that it becomes part of his Great Commandment. “Who is my neighbor?” someone asked him.  Although Jesus makes it clear that we are all neighbors to one another, sometimes the answer is even more obvious. 

One of the ways we show love and care for our neighbors around the church is by maintaining our grounds and encouraging their use. Are there other ways we can be the kind of loving neighbors Jesus commands us to be?

Perhaps we need to spend some time outside to find out.