To Those Who Miss Their Mom...

It's hard to believe that on this day 15 years ago, my Mom went home to be with Jesus. She had said so many times, including just days before on my last dinner date with her, "I just don't know why God still has me here...I'm done!" And she was....

Mom knew how to live simply.

No fancy three page recipes. You got the ingredients together, keep adding the seasonings until you like the flavor, and cook til tender. (Unless it was Sunday's pot roast and then it had to have just a little crispy, not-really-burnt outer layer! mmmm....)

Sewing items, as opposed to buying them, was to save money. Clothing, blankets, aprons, dish towels and hot pads were not for sale on etsy or craig's list....they were hand-sewn in a manner that allowed them to last through YEARS of use and laundering.

Music was a means to lighten the soul and energize the spirit. Harmony a must! I loved coming home from Centralia Elementary school, cheeks blazing hot from the walk and entering our modest home on Monroe Avenue. Mom would be sitting at the piano playing one of her favorite hymns, eyes closed and a big smile on her face. I'd try to sneak by, not wanting to disturb her intimate joy, but she'd call out 'Hey, MJ, come sit here and sing this with me!'

Animals were to be loved, but not worshiped. One of her favorite stories she could hardly relate to us without laughing so hard she cried, was when my puppy was unfortunately hit by a very big truck out in front of the house. My dad wasn't available to remove the remains, so Mom had to do it herself before we kids saw the reality of what 'was' our pet. She took a shovel out to the highway and scooped the dog up....well, this is where she loses it telling the story! It seems only "half" the dog came up and as she walked away she observed the other back "half" still lying peacefully on the highway. It was then she began laughing and RUNNING to scoop up the rest of what would have been a traumatic event for us, and placing it in a shallow grave in the yard.

At the same time, her insight and compassion for God's creatures rivaled Dr. Doolittle. Goldfish swam to her hand and lay still as she lifted them to the holding tank as she changed their bowl water. The family parakeet, who talked profusely and regularly beak-punched holes in our homework eventually faded with age, and suffered with a tumor. Although my mom adored this little companion immensely, she couldn't stand to see him hurting. With tears flowing down her face, she placed the near lifeless bird in a sock, and immersed it in a tub of warm water. I'm not sure what it was, but I know she was singing.

People were to be loved. It didn't matter if you were of a certain ethnicity or religion or age. If you were hurting, she would pray for you. If you were lonely, she'd talk to you. If you were doing something that she felt may bring you pain or punishment, you'd get a stern look and a "Byesie bye!" (That's Blanche language for KNOCK IT OFF IDIOT).

One thing she loved to do was be with those who were stepping into eternity. Sometimes it was a neighbor dying from a long endured illness; most often it was the Rest Home several blocks away. The directors would call for "Sister Blanche" to come be with a senior resident who was about to expire....and she would have the honor of holding their hand and their heart, as they would sing and pray until the last breath was taken. I have had this same privilege several times and it has been an incredibly humbling and holy event to witness.

Walking was a MUST. Not just because she didn't drive due to her eyesight. But because she loved it! If she was on a mission, lets say to get embroidery floss from the Sprouse Reitz and get back home before 4 to start dinner, then you better keep up! Wow, could she power walk! Then there were times in the cool of the evening, we'd go for a leisurely walk and she'd put out her index finger for me to hold onto. My little sister on one side, and me on the other. We'd stop to check out ant families, or just sing songs as we mosied along. I miss holding that finger.

She also told us often in her later years, "Oh my I'm so glad I kept walking and kept these old bones limber!" By the way, she had GORGEOUS legs right up to the end!

I'm thinking she had a deal with God as to when He'd take her home.

Not on Mother's Day as that would ruin it for her kids.

Not on May 23rd, as that was my Dad's birthday.

Not on May 27th, as that was their wedding anniversary. (They celebrated 44 years together before he beat her to heaven!)

Instead, it was May 22nd.

I'm having a really hard weekend emotionally, and I so wish I could drive over to Mom's and lay in her lap and let her pray and sing over me. According to all the scholars, it won't be long til Jesus returns....come soon Lord. I miss my Mom.