Be an encourager
The phone rang that morning about 8:00 and the thought that went through my mind in that split-second, no, that nanosecond of time was the image of my Mother’s face and the words, “I haven’t talked…” and then, “no, I can’t…”
My Mother’s been dead for 2 ½ years now, but many, many times, I still think of her. There’s still a catch in my throat, not when I go to the cemetery, but when I’m eating that first homegrown tomato; or canning beans; or when I see someone leaning over an elderly woman in a wheelchair – oh God, I did that so many times… and how I miss her.
I’m often told how much like her I am. What an honor! She was a Godly woman. What I miss most is talking to her. We talked everyday – sometimes several times a day. As I was growing up she always had time to listen – as we washed dishes, as we folded clothes, as we made the beds. She was a great encourager, and I hope, above all, that that is what I’ve learned from her.
I’ve always had a good relationship with our boys. We’ve talked about everything! Sunday afternoon, our youngest came and plopped across the bed where I was reading. He’s getting ready to go back to college and our “talk time” is getting short.
He shared with me things that are going on in his life – his fears, his concerns, his hopes. We talked about people he knows, and their lifestyles – some were Godly, and some not. We talked about how their parents must feel, and how they must hurt. He commented on how he was raised, and yes, we did (and do) have a “rule” – as long as we are financially responsible for them, they WILL be in church, but I also reminded him that even in the most devout homes, some still stray. And yes, how their parents cry for the children… I wanted him to understand the pure grace of God.
It’s a fact. Good kids come from bad homes, and bad kids come from good homes. But parents, that doesn’t excuse us from being our kids’ staunchest supporters – not in terms of giving them everything they want, but in giving them what they need.
Tell your child that you love them. I don’t care how old they are. Tell them every day! Mother and I did. Man, how I miss that…
Betty
My Mother’s been dead for 2 ½ years now, but many, many times, I still think of her. There’s still a catch in my throat, not when I go to the cemetery, but when I’m eating that first homegrown tomato; or canning beans; or when I see someone leaning over an elderly woman in a wheelchair – oh God, I did that so many times… and how I miss her.
I’m often told how much like her I am. What an honor! She was a Godly woman. What I miss most is talking to her. We talked everyday – sometimes several times a day. As I was growing up she always had time to listen – as we washed dishes, as we folded clothes, as we made the beds. She was a great encourager, and I hope, above all, that that is what I’ve learned from her.
I’ve always had a good relationship with our boys. We’ve talked about everything! Sunday afternoon, our youngest came and plopped across the bed where I was reading. He’s getting ready to go back to college and our “talk time” is getting short.
He shared with me things that are going on in his life – his fears, his concerns, his hopes. We talked about people he knows, and their lifestyles – some were Godly, and some not. We talked about how their parents must feel, and how they must hurt. He commented on how he was raised, and yes, we did (and do) have a “rule” – as long as we are financially responsible for them, they WILL be in church, but I also reminded him that even in the most devout homes, some still stray. And yes, how their parents cry for the children… I wanted him to understand the pure grace of God.
It’s a fact. Good kids come from bad homes, and bad kids come from good homes. But parents, that doesn’t excuse us from being our kids’ staunchest supporters – not in terms of giving them everything they want, but in giving them what they need.
Tell your child that you love them. I don’t care how old they are. Tell them every day! Mother and I did. Man, how I miss that…
Betty
posted by Betty Newman at 9:18 PM
1 Comments:
I remember when I was 17 and we got word that my maternal grandmother had died. My mom collapsed into my arms. It was then that I was struck by a terrible thought: someday, my mom would die. Someday, I would not have her.
Since that time, I've come to cherish every moment that I can with my parents. Well, most of them. Time with one's parents as a mature adult is fleeting.
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