Mom Is Home

13. Mom is Home. Absent from the body, present with Her Savior, clothed in His righteousness. Sin and death have been defeated once more.
    
    Mom loved her Savior most of all. She daily saturated herself in His Word--the Spirit filled her. Her favorite passages: All the Psalms, Isaiah 40, Isaiah 53, John 3, Romans 5 and Romans 8; the book of Hebrews. Those passages that exalted her loving God and Savior. I have no doubt that she knew the Scriptures better than many a pastor. But she didn't read for information--rather for transformation. She loved her little chats with Him.
    She loved to tell others about Him, too. Family, neighbors, whoever God assigned to the seat next to her on the airlines--everybody she talked to. She had a special love for the Jewish people. "Think of how much the Lord has given to us through His people, Al. The world would be a place of hopeless desperation without them. As Jesus said, 'Salvation IS of the Jews.' " I've heard that sermon many a time. And, oh, how she loved children. In whatever neighborhood God planted her, she soon had a Good News club, and the house was filled with children. Nothing fancy. Out would come the old flannel graph, and the kids would soon be enthralled with Bible stories and the love of Jesus. Many a child from a Christ-less home took Jesus home with him. She had the gift of personal evangelism. Her method: she would just conversationally tell people how much Christ meant to her, and what He had done for her, and tell them how much He would love to do the same for them. Any tears that God will have to wipe from her eyes will be tears for those who despised her Savior's gracious love.
    Actually, she was always a lover. Loved her Mom and Dad. Loved her sister--my Aunt Chloe, and her husband Uncle Bill. Loved all the "Ziff kids": Mary Anne, Eddie, Martha, Nora. They were her kids, too. And she loved their families. Deeply in love with Pop! And his family. Loved us kids no matter what we did. Loved the ones we married no matter what they did. Loved the grandkids (what a role she and Pop and my sister Chloe played in the lives of my boys after Susan left us). Loved the grandchildren's children. Loved her pastors. Loved her friends. Loved her Hospice folks--adopted them, too. The love of God was spread abroad in her heart, and she couldn't keep it in.
    She loved music. She would sing the old songs from her youth. Loved classical music. She greatly loved the old hymns. Loved "The Messiah." Her recent favorite CD was one by George Beverly Shea singing her favorite hymns. I think I've heard that thing a couple of hundred times in the last few years--not that I mind. "He's almost as old as I am, Al." Her favorite on the CD was "The Little Brown Church in the Vale." Reminded her of her beloved days at Chatham Bible Church in Wellston, Missouri.
    She loved Christmas. Had to have a tree. Had to have a manger scene. Had to play the carols. Had to read the Christmas story on Christmas Eve by the light of the candles burning on her ancient artificial little tree. She loved the old ornaments on that tree from her childhood days. And she loved to watch the grandchildren and great-grandchildren snuff out the candles as they burned down. She loved giving year around. If you admired something in her house, she would do her best to convince you to take it with you. I've been "ordered" a multitude of times to make a pot of tea for the Hospice girls. And find some sweets for them to eat, even though, supposedly, she had "lost" her sweet tooth. Right.
    She loved her past. The stories she could tell from her earliest days to the antics of her great-grandchildren. Stories with a "lesson," at times. Stories to fill the room with laughter. She loved to laugh. Could trade "barbs" with the best of them, pointing her finger at them. Ornery. But never hurtful. "Apples of gold."
    She loved God's creation. Knew all the flowers. Knew all the birds. These last few years at the Acres she loved to sit on the front patio in her swivel chair--so she could see everything in every direction--a pink floppy hat on her head, shades on, one of the Outlaw Gang sitting at her feet, the hummingbirds checking out her hat, her container garden at her feet. She loved to watch the changing skies. Loved a rampaging thunder storm. Loved a soft spring rain. Loved a hot summer's day. Lately, since she's been back "up North," loved a gentle snow painting the Acres white. She and Homesteader became fast friends. The "white dish rag" (Nosy Rosie is what she called her) has spent lots of time this week curled up at the foot of Mom's bed. Animals sense things, I think. For Mom, everyday was a "this is the day the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it" kind of day.
    Was she perfect? Heaven forbid! She had as many flaws as the rest of us. Only Heaven can fully eradicate the self in us. But she knew the Savior, her Savior. Knew she was forgiven, justified, redeemed, reconciled. And so, she saw herself through His loving eyes, "hidden in Christ." His "beloved." Her flaws have been "cured" now. The One she "loved, having not seen," has finished His work in her. She has seen Him now, face-to-face. And Pop again. And Aunt Chloe and Uncle Bill. And all her old Chatham buddies. After the 99 years the Lord gave her, most of them "beat her Home." I'm sure she has the children singing choruses. I'm sure the old Chatham bunch is bursting with song. (You're Dad is probably leading them Kathy C.)
    The Bible tells us that when we get to Heaven our Lord has a new name for us. No offense, Lord, but Mom doesn't need a new one. Her name is perfect: Grace.

    
    
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