I don’t remember it, but I know that hers was the first face I recognized
… the first voice that comforted me, the first arms that held me close.
When she gave birth to me 63 years ago, it was a new experience for both of us. I was a new tiny human and she was a new mama.
We learned how to do this together, though as a child I couldn’t possibly recognize that she was learning, too.
I just noticed that she did it well.
She navigated a lot of life challenges, in my growing up years, with grace and tenacity I didn’t always fully appreciate and acknowledge.
And as an adult, I didn’t always agree with her, but I always knew she was in my corner.
I got to observe her become a grandmother and great-grandmother and to love those littles as fiercely as she loved me and my younger brother and sister.
I got to see her become “another mother” and “grandmother” to so many kids not related by blood.
I got to see her love Jesus and lead many to know him.
And maybe it sounds strange, but I’m really glad I got to watch her get old, because not a lot of people get to have their mom for as long as I had mine.
We’ve been planning a big celebration at the end of April for her 90th birthday, but her tired body wore out yesterday morning.
So we’ll have a different celebration than we thought we would, but it will still be a celebration because she’s definitely worth celebrating.
Thank You, Lord, for my Mama.
