". . . little shall I grace my cause

In speaking for myself. Yet, by your gracious patience,

I will a round unvarnish'd tale deliver . . ."

(William Shakespeare's Othello, I.iii.88-90)

Thursday, March 24, 2016

A Hundred Little Occasions

"Oliver turned homeward, thinking on the many kindnesses he had received from the young lady, and wishing that time could come over again, that he might never cease showing her how grateful and attached he was. He had no cause for self-reproach on the score of neglect, or want of thought, for he had been devoted to her service; and yet a hundred little occasions rose up before him, on which he fancied he might have been more zealous, and more earnest, and wished he had been. We need be careful how we deal with those about us, when every death carries to some small circle of survivors, thoughts of so much omitted, and so little done - of so many things forgotten, and so many more which might have been repaired! There is no remorse so deep as that which is unavailing; if we would be spared its tortures, let us remember this, in time."

Charles Dickens, Oliver Twist, Chapter 33

Tuesday, March 22, 2016

Four Weeks Later

Last night was the four-week mark since Mom's death. Everyone is doing okay. We encounter daily reminders of her absence--bumping up against things in the pantry or refrigerator that were hers, or hearing a noise in the house and briefly attributing it to her before remembering that, oh yeah, she's not here anymore. But we know that she is TODAY in Paradise, and the comfort that brings covers all the sadness. I give thanks that she lived for 85 years and that her life was a testament to the preciousness of life and to God's care of His children. Going through some of my mom's things I found her baptismal certificate. She wasn't baptized until she was 30. I didn't know that before (or if I did, I forgot). At the time, she was living in Japan with her first husband, who was stationed there. By that time she had six children, all of whom had been baptized. But she hadn't been. I wish I knew the story there. Did she think she was baptized and found out she wasn't? In any case, it is another way her own parents failed her. But the Lord did not fail her. He claimed her and called her and made her His own. Thanks be to God.

In the last few years of her life Mom became increasingly thin. It was a major contributing factor to her always feeling cold. Lately I find myself thinking of her in her casket in the earth, where it must be cold. She doesn't have a sweater! I need to constantly remind myself she's not there. She's not cold. She's bathing in the warmth of her Savior.

Of all the old pictures I have come across of her over the past month, I think this is my favorite.