Birthday Blessings

 On the morning of my 79th birthday, I paused in front of my refrigerator door to look lovingly at a photo of my sweet mother. 

I thought about how she must have suffered on this day all those many years ago when she was giving birth to her first child. I assume she felt indescribable joy in the midst of the agony that day, as I did years later when giving birth to each of my two precious daughters.

I also thought about how Jesus endured great agony on the cross in order to make spiritual life available to me centuries upon centuries later. 

I thought about how my mother always cared tenderly and faithfully for me as long as she was physically able to do so. 

Jesus is still tenderly and faithfully caring for me.

My mother departed this life during my 63rd year of life. 

But Jesus, who has been with me since before I was born and all the days since, is now sitting at the right hand of God the Father, making intercession* for me, advocating for me, providing all that I need.

How blessed I am to have had a loving mother who endured suffering while bringing life to me. How even more blessed I am to have a Savior who suffered to bring spiritual life to me. How blessed I am to have had both to love me unconditionally and to rejoice over me. 

Reflecting on that prompts me to pause to give thanks for them and for ALL I’ve been given and am being given, including another year of life. May my life honor them and bless others.

*Hebrews 12:2; Romans 8:34

A Father's Joy

Remembering Mama

My sweet mama died six years ago today (January 9^th), and I still miss her so much. Hardly a day passes that I don’t remember something she said or did. I think she’d be happy to know that her life still matters, that her influence and her example live on in my sister and me and in other family members and friends who were blessed to spend time with her.

She wasn’t famous in the eyes of the world. She was never president of any organization and was never in the spotlight. Yet, she was a bright light to those who were going through “dark times” as she, an LPN, ministered lovingly to patients and their families at the local hospital, as she stayed several consecutive days and nights with friends whose mother was dying, as she took care of her parents “to the end”….

She kept the home fires burning brightly all the years my daddy was gone all week (day and night) while he worked in another town, leaving her to take care of my sister and me and the cow and the pigs and the chickens and the mules. At that time we had no telephone, no running water, no central heat or air, no vehicle (except the one Daddy drove to work). But Mama managed and did not complain.

I could go on and on about her, but time won’t permit me to put so many sweet memories in print. However, I just couldn’t let this day pass without acknowledging how much I miss her and how truly thankful I am to have such a wonderful mother, the kind of excellent wife and mother portrayed in Proverbs 31, which includes descriptions such as these:

• Strength and dignity are her clothing… (v. 25
• She opens her mouth with wisdom, and the teaching of kindness is on her tongue (v.26)
• She looks well to the ways of her household and does not eat the bread of idleness (v.27).
• Her children rise up and call her blessed; her husband also, and he praises her (v.28).

I want to be like Mama--a woman who is “far more precious than jewels” (Proverbs 31:1) and a woman “who fears [reverences] the LORD” (v.30). If I am, then I, too, will be deeply loved and, therefore, greatly missed when I’m gone.

Under His Wings

Taken on the River Walk in San Antonio, Texas.
Notice how watchful the mother duck is and
how the ducklings instinctively know
to hide under her wings!

Wabi-Sabi

At the conclusion of a Toastmasters meeting, the leader said, “The theme for our next meeting will be wabi-sabi.”

Well…that theme was quite different from recent ones, such as enthusiasm, being prepared, rise and shine, etc., all of which were easily understood. But wabi-sabi????

Naturally, I made a bee-line for her after the meeting and smiled as I asked, “Just what is wabi-sabi?”

“It’s a Japanese word that means a way of seeing beauty in things that are imperfect, like a cracked vase. People who understand wabi-sabi intentionally place the vase so that the imperfection can be seen rather than hidden.”

After the meeting, I logged on to the internet to find out more about wabi-sabi. I learned that ancients Greeks once prized beauty; westerners desire perfection; but those who practice wabi-sabi value authenticity. They see beauty in things that are imperfect, impermanent, and/or incomplete. For example, they find beauty in things that are rough, irregular, natural, rustic…things with “character,” such as a table with a few dings and dongs, a chipped cup, wrinkled faces, etc. 

      My goodness! I thought. I’ve been practicing wabi-sabi for years and didn’t even know it! To prove it, I looked through my collection of digital photos and found many images I’d made of what I considered beautiful “finds.” I’d found them in unexpected places. For example: an outhouse made of rough wood standing beside acres of sunflowers in full bloom, outgrown children’s shoes being used as small planters, an old worn-out shoe providing a home to a plant in need of care, textured walls in an abandoned building, dried blooms silhouetted again a November sky…

 One of my all-time favorite wabi-sabi photos is one of my mother’s hands, taken when she was 86 years old. I liked it so much I even wrote a poem about her hands and placed those words onto the photo itself.

The more we accept the imperfect elements in our environment and consider them interesting and beautiful, the more willing we’ll be to let go of our relentless quest for perfection—not only in things but also in people—including ourselves!

The Tender Voice

One afternoon when two-year-old Peyton was almost asleep in my arms, the phone rang. When I answered it, Peyton could also hear her mother’s voice. Peyton sat up immediately and reached for the phone. She and Jennifer talked for a minute before Jennifer said, “Go to sleep. Mama will be there when you wake up."

Knowing Jennifer needed to go, I said, “Peyton, give the phone to Nana, please.”

She obeyed, though I sensed she wanted to keep talking. She lay in my arms and listened to me assure her mom that all was well.

As soon as I told Jennifer good-bye and started to put the cordless phone on the sofa cushion beside me, Peyton began to whimper and to reach for the phone.

“Mama’s at school,” I explained. “She had to say bye-bye.”

Peyton’s eyes filled with tears.

“Do you want to hold the phone?”

She nodded.

She drifted off to sleep, holding the phone close to her ear, hoping (expecting?) to hear her mother’s voice once again. Although I knew Peyton was very happy staying with me everyday while her mother taught school, I also understood that there was no voice as sweet or as dear to her as her mother’s. And that’s as it should be! I want her mother to hold first place in her heart.

That experience reminded me of a truth expressed by Henry and Richard Blackaby in their book, When God Speaks. It struck me the moment I read it. It still re-plays often in my mind, for it’s such wonderful advice for those of us who are seeking to hear the voice of the Lord and to obey Him. If there is no clear instruction, Blackaby says, wait until God does speak again.
Just keep doing whatever He told you last. (And don’t feel compelled to always be doing something.) But when God does speak, then do everything He tells you to do. (See p. 72.)

Like Peyton, we can rest peacefully, fully assured that soon we will hear the tender voice of the One who loves us even more than we love Him.

(c) 2011 by Johnnie Ann Burgess Gaskill

Mother's Example

Note: Little did I know when I wrote this column on May 4, 2010, that it would be read at Mother's funeral on January 16, 2011.

At this writing, my mother no longer knows me—or anyone else in our family—but we know her and remember the love she gave us and the many things she did for us as long as she could. It feels very strange—and terribly sad, of course—to see Mother looking quite well (for someone age 93) and so familiar to us, yet to realize that, to her, we are just some nice “strangers” who’ve come to visit her. No mention of names of dear ones evokes any emotional response in her, because Alzheimer’s has erased all memory of them, as far as we know.

But, as I said, we do remember her, and we are still so very grateful for her loving care of us throughout the years and for the things she taught us. For example, she taught me how to cook and to sew, although I never reached her level of skill in the latter. She tried to teach me how to quilt, but, sadly, I wasn’t an eager learner.

However, I did learn many other things Mother taught me, among them: the love of reading, the value of quietly accepting whatever happens and making the best of it, the need to make good use of the time, the satisfaction of completing creative projects, the willingness to share with others whatever possessions and talents you have, the need to rely on God in every situation, and much, much more.

Mother and I are alike in many ways, different in others. Yet, we’ve always been very close. The older I get, the more I realize just how wonderful she was—and still is. Until the past few years, she was a treasure house of knowledge about our family and friends. She knew birthdays and other special days, ancestors and descendants, etc. She could tell interesting (and often funny!) stories about happenings in days gone by.

Mother has always been a quiet person, often looking frail; yet, she has incredible inner strength, even now that she is no longer able to take care of even her most basic needs. Each day, she exhibits dignity and grace and remains kind and cooperative. She never whines or complains about her situation. She simply does all she can to make it work for the best, as she has always done.

Now, as when I was a child, I cannot truly understand what life must be like for her. She has always made the hard things look easier than they really are. For example, when I was a child, Daddy worked in a town miles from where we lived. So, very early each Monday morning he drove off in the only vehicle we owned and didn’t return until late Friday afternoon. While he was gone, Mother did everything at home. She took care of the cow, the chickens, the garden, all the household chores, and, of course, my sister and me. We had no telephone at the time and no running water. But Mother seemed to manage just fine and didn’t fuss on Daddy for being away for days on end.

I often think about such things, especially when I read Proverbs 31 or Proverbs 1:8-9, which says, “Listen, my child, to what your father teaches you. Don’t neglect your mother’s teaching. What you learn from them will crown you with grace and clothe you with honor” (New Living Translation).

So, day by day, I give thanks for my precious mother and try even harder to follow the wonderful example she set for me.

© May 4. 2010 by Johnnie Ann Burgess Gaskill. For permission to use, please send e-mail to johnniegaskillATgmailDOTcom.