My mother turned 92 today. It would also have been her 72nd anniversary, were my father still alive. Linda and I spent yesterday and today moving her into the mother-in-law apartment at my brother and sister-in-law's home. We got everything moved from her senior apartment yesterday, and today we unpacked and put everything away for her. They were two long days, but filled with love. My mother was the one who more than anyone else, taught me that once you make a commitment, you stick to it, even if something better comes along. That principle has made many a decision easier to make, and has kept me from the indecision and fickleness that I often see in others.
More than anyone else, when I was a teenager, she encouraged me to pursue my dream of full time Christian work, even if it meant I was to be a missionary in some far-off corner of the world. It was at a missionary conference when I was fourteen that I responded to the call of God to devote myself to this work. At the end of the invitation that night, the missionary called upon my parents to stand with me in support of that call, even if it meant sending me away for the better part of their lives. Mom and dad stepped up to the challenge. It was only a few years ago that it occurred to me what that might have meant to them. I asked, and mom said it was the hardest thing she has ever done.
She and dad were faithful to each other for over sixty years, even when times were hard, even when they might have preferred to go their separate ways. I cannot recall them ever fighting; they certainly didn't do it in front of us kids, but I do remember times they had conversations behind closed doors.
Packing and unpacking a lifetime of memories these past two days was for me a warm and soothing experience, like slipping in between warmed sheets on a cold night. With dad gone, I'm sure some of those memories have for her an edge that still cuts like a razor. I know she is tired from all the work, even if she mostly just watched. She was watching not only the work we did, but her life being placed carefully into boxes, driven across the miles, then opened up and placed on shelves and in drawers. At 92, her world has shrunken to fit into a small apartment, where once it filled an entire house. Even so, she is still paring it down yet even more to fit what she can manage. I reminded her in the note I wrote in her card, that even though she has downsized more than once in the last few years, her influence reaches far beyond the rooms she now calls home. Her children, grandchildren, and even great-grandchildren follow Christ because she and dad taught us well. And there are people she's never met whose lives have been transformed because of that evening so many years ago when she and dad stepped out of their pew to offer me to God. I am grateful, and I suspect there are many who owe her a big "thank you" as well. Happy birthday, Mom!
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