My Mother

My mother stepped into the presence of the Lord on December 6 and was welcomed into Glory by her Savior and by my dear father (her husband of 54 years who'd preceded her into heaven by nearly 18 years).  She was 93 years old and no doubt looked a mere 30 as she took that eternal first step into her new home.  Three years earlier, I took this picture of her work-worn hands resting atop her mother's Bible. 

My impression of Mother's hands is of love and labor and long life.  She had the softest touch, always gentle, always caring.  Her hands also had the amazing talent of arranging beautiful flower designs, cooking delicious foods, soothing sick family members, and growing a grand garden.  I always marveled at how she could break a twig from a tree or bush, push the end down into her special soil, and in only a week or so roots had developed at the end of the twig and it had become a plant in its own right. 

Mother truly reflected the verses in Proverbs 31:  "Give her of the fruit of her hands; and let her own works praise her in the gates...Her children arise and call her blessed; her husband also, and he praises her."

In spite of the difficulties she'd endured during the last 2-1/2 years (after breaking her hip), God was faithful.  His precious love and tenderness is beautifully shown in the verse in Isaiah 46 where He says our bodies have been, "upheld by Me from birth...even to your old age.  I am He, and even to gray hairs I will carry you!"  On more than one occasion I remembered that verse and was encouraged that He still had her best interests in His heart.

I am so thankful that Mother committed her life into God's hands as a child and she is even now basking in the light of His dear presence.  My mother's hands were swollen and full of wrinkles in the photo, but I've always thought they were beautiful -- and I believe God was pleased with His daughter to the very end of her days upon the earth.  We miss you, Mother, but time will be but as a vapor before we see you again.