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  • Mother’s Day was one of my milestones of spring. When we got to Mother’s Day, I knew school was almost out and it was time for dance recitals and piano recitals. We’d go out in the yard and pick a rose to wear to church, red if your mother was alive and white if she was not. We would pin the flower on our still new Easter clothes and be on our way to church.

    Momma’s been gone for 8 years now. And from time to time I still have the urge to call her and tell her about something unusual I’ve seen or something wonderful I’ve done I think I should get praise for. Or hear encouragement when things aren’t going well. She was a mom of the classic tradition. I could always count on her to take my side and cheerfully spin whatever the situation I was in to cast me as the hero, even when I clearly wasn’t. I sometimes wonder what she would have said had I called and told her I just killed a guy. I’m sure she would have mused about the world somehow being a better place because I had. The details of the story would not be as important as her making me know she loved me.

    Last night as we sat around the table after supper we started remembering things she had done and how she was. There was the recurring theme that she always found something positive in everything, and was always there with encouragement when it could be given.

    Momma had strong faith in God. And it was actionable. Every time she was led by God to take action, she did unquestioningly. Whether it made sense to others or maybe even a little crazy, she did it. Whether or not it embarrassed her kids, she did it. She never refused aid to anyone she saw a way to help. She, herself was the straightest laced person you would ever see, but she had no qualms of approaching and helping those who were not. It was not part of the equation to her when working in God’s behalf, nor was calling any attention to her good deed, or any expectation of action on the part of the recipient.

    I like to think of her being like Jesus in that regard. I tend to think of Jesus as helping others with no questions asked, no fanfare, no expectation, just an expression of who He was.

    As time goes on in my life, I don’t put much stock into who or what people say they are. I don’t really even care what they believe. I think it’s the positive they do, and the negative they do that defines who and what they are. And the world could do with more people like Momma.
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