I lay my head in my mother’s lap as she slowly strokes my hair. Her skin smells like coconut and is soft to touch. She sings a deep melody under her breath, clenching her teeth in concentration. The tune starts to match what’s playing on TV. It turns into a lovely harmony with the dog food commercial. I laugh and pinch her leg, and she playfully swats me on the back.
The smell of fresh cookies wafts up the stairs as I sit and do my homework. I hear my mom’s footfalls on the steps. “Thought you could use a snack,” she says, and sets the cookies on my desk. Pressing her hand on my shoulder she says, “Don’t work too hard. When you need a break, come find me.”
A sticky note slides across the table as I sit in Bible study with mom next to me. It’s from her. “Want to go to lunch?” it reads. We go to Mexican food and sit and laugh and gossip a little, but mostly talk about life.
My mom holds me while I cry into her shoulder. The girls at school don’t accept me. I don’t understand how to make friends. She pats my back and says that the good ones, the kind ones will notice my friendship. They’re the only ones worth being around anyway.
My mother laughs and flips around the pool, showing off for her grandkids. She is their playmate and companion. With her they laugh and cry and feel safe. Even now that they are adults, they go to her, seeking counsel from Grandma.
My mother’s smile starts deep inside her. Her laugh comes bellowing out from deep within. It reaches first her throat then her face then her eyes. Her cheeks glow red with the joy of it. It’s a laugh that makes you step back. Her joy draws attention. You cannot look away. It makes her beautiful, her face aglow with the light that radiates out of her.
People are drawn to my mother like water after a long thirst. She has something they need; they just don’t know it yet. Gently, my mother sits down and slowly, calmly, changes their life. She would tell me it’s just Jesus in her, and I agree.
She is earnest as a rough wave and as compassionate as the following calm. Her openness has no limitations. Never did she turn away a wayward or sorry heart.
I watch my mother work outside in the garden. She’s just told me for the millionth time to be more compassionate, to look outside myself and to see other people. Taming my wild spirit takes most of her time, but where would I be without my mother?
It’s through her eyes that I see the humanity in others. I can live outside my own mind and see the beauty, the Christ, in them. She has guided me there. If I grow one day into the beautiful flower she has become, I will count myself blessed. Her ministry has spread through her children, both biological and adopted in faith, many of whom are also serving in ministry to others. Though we now live thousands of miles apart, I carry her with me every day with each soul I can touch for Christ. With the spirit of my mother and her Savior inside me, I greet each day as an opportunity to bless others with a kind word, with an infectious laugh, and with those sparkly, dancing eyes of my mother that thankfully, she gave to me too. 🌷
