Thoughts on my mother’s passing

I was raised by a warrior. Chances are you were, too.

And, sometimes it takes a funeral to help bring that home. A remembrance reminds a person of the circumstances of a life.

Mom’s funeral on Monday helped sharpen that for me.

It was important to her to make sure her kids learned that structure was important. She was good at that.

She did her darnedest to bring order to our lives. Three meals a day. Always a garden. She knitted and crocheted. She sewed. Her house was very, very clean. She read. She read to her children. She wrote letters. She kept track of who was who in the families. Anyone who visited was invited to sign a guest book. If she knew you, you’d likely get a birthday card, with a letter.

I’ve missed a few things I should add to that list, I’ll bet.

She was a preacher’s wife, too. That’s a tough role to fill, right there. She tackled that with the same vigor of her other endeavors. She played piano. She played organ. She taught Sunday school. She led Bible studies.

She was the wife of a Reformed Church missionary, as well, called to be of service among several tribes of American Indians. This woman, raised with German, Protestant, Calvinistic values, was determined to pass that along, wherever her and her husband’s calling took them.

All that came from a deep well of belief — Christ is redemption Christ brings meaning. There were terrible times, but those, too, had their places in the scheme of things.

Sometimes all that order made it tough to live with her, but that went with the territory.

The last 12 years or so of her life, she battled infections after illness resulted in total parenteral nutrition. A woman who loved to cook for herself and others could only taste food while liquid nutrition was delivered through a vein.

But, she battled those recurring infections, recovering time after time, maintaining a faith that puts mine to shame.

Chances are you have a warrior in your family. And, it’s a good idea to think of a parent in that fashion. They may not be dressed in a cape or armor or camouflage, but I’ll bet they’ve fought their share of battles to get you to where you are.

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2 thoughts on “Thoughts on my mother’s passing

  1. I just read this, and a few tears came. This will be a hard Mother’s Day for you, I suspect — and now I miss mine more sharply than I might otherwise have. She was a warrior, too — she had to be, after her own mother died when she was sixteen, and she was left to raise her siblings and keep the family together. They were tough: not harsh, but sinewy, and capable of holding a lot more together than I ever realized.

    You have my sympathy, and my prayers.

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