First, I should acknowledge that today is the anniversary of the saddest day of my life. 36 years ago on February 4, 1988, my mother died. There was never anyone in my life who came close to replacing her, and that is appropriate since no one could bear the pain of that loss twice in a lifetime. I am not sure that the passage of time has done much to minimize the pain at the thought of her death even now that she has been joined by my father and both her sons. Still, she influences me today. Her quiet voice of surprise, or admonition or expectation of “great things” steers my path in some ways. Her death on February 4, burial on her February 10th birthday, followed over the years by my Grandmother’s, February 16 and my brother’s February 22 deaths has made February for me, a month of mourning, trepidation, watchfulness, and concern that once again death would visit our doorsteps. When I think of what I’ve learned about my faith and spirituality, I learned a lot of it from my mother.
She did not separate the what of who she was from the how of her faith. Faith was not just a set of beliefs but beliefs manifested in actions. Faith did stuff. Faith was active. Faith was the hands and feet of Jesus here on earth. So here are five lessons of faith I learned from watching my mother live her life.
She was a giver, both of her money and her time. She saw her value, she knew who she was in Christ and felt absolutely no need to prove that to anyone. Every child of God is valuable, so why are we not valuable? And that value was to be shared with others. She, of course, tithed her income, but she gave meals, clothes, advice, and anything she owned was fodder to give to someone with a need. She helped pay tuition for those who wanted to go to college but did not have money. So we baked many cakes, hams, and pots of greens for families in mourning. We cut lawns, cleared kitchens, and washed other folks’ dishes to lend a hand in their time of need. Every time it was done without expectation of recompense, the reward was in the ability to give. To whom much is given, much is expected. We had been given much, so we were taught to give much. These were gifts from the heart.
She was humble. Humility is better, and harder to manifest, than pride. So she was as comfortable in a $12.99 dress from her favorite knock-off dress shop or a $150 dress from Montaldos, a high-end dress shop in Richmond, Virginia where we lived. She had a classic style which she encouraged me to adopt because it was timeless, and over time, thrifty. Once she was sitting her her knockoff dress on a dias. In the same place the same dress was being worn by another woman. She leaned over and said, “Did you get your dress from the shop too?” The woman, a social climber was scandalized that anyone would be caught dead browsing the racks at that store, insisted that hers was the real thing for considerably more. The tag did not make a 10.00 dress worth 150.00 in my Mom’s economy. Still today, I have a wardrobe of classic suits that serve me well for years. They can be easily rotated, updated and worn for all kinds of occasions. Now that I’m retired, my wardrobe consists of slacks, exercise wear and easy pieces that reflect my less formal lifestyle. Those suits still stand at the ready.
She was fearless, often admonishing me to be the same as she ushered me into spaces where people like us had only recently been granted access. Fear Not! Look them straight in the eye. Hold your head up. Stand tall. You have something to share. You tell them! You are smarter than they are. – whispers in the car before she sent me into the lion’s den – empowered, emboldened, sure. I have had to take a deep breath and push my way in and through the door of almost every place I’ve ever had the pleasure of inhabiting. My mother taught us that we were the gift other people needed, even if they didn’t know it yet.
She loved unconditionally – scripture says, they will know us by how we love each other – my mother spread her love to everyone who crossed her path. And those people saw Christ in her. Strangers, particularly children, were always in her scope. She had no trouble encouraging, correcting, and uplifting other people’s children. Once we were in Thalheimer’s Department Store and she observed a boy shoplifting. She marched right up to him and interrogated him pulling from him his dreams and desires, affirming him, until he pulled that trinket out of his pocket and placed it in her hand. “Do you really think I can go to college?” he asked. “You bet, here is my card, you call me and I’ll help you.” She believed in one-on-one intervention. At her funeral, hundreds of people filled our church and flowed into the street to honor her. Complete strangers to us testified of her influence in their lives. From her, I learned that every person is valuable, every person has the capacity for success, some just have not yet been told. She told everyone she met of their value, that was love.
She was full of joy. Joy is a state of being, a decision, not the result of circumstances. My mother exuded joy. She found good in difficult circumstances. She looked under the piles of crap in her life for treasures. She experienced unspeakable betrayal. As a social worker, she worked with difficult people in difficult circumstances. Yet, she joyfully attended to so many other people, to provide comfort and care to family, friends, and neighbors in need. My paternal Great-grandmother, who had entered our household to take care of the 3, then 4 of us, became ill with Parkinsons and dementia. When the caretaker, needed care, Mom became the caretaker and faithfully cared for Granny for 15 years until her death. On the way, other people came into her fold for care in their declining years. We added a Cousin to our household, and her mother, both in the confusion of dementia. In all of this chaos, my mother found and exuded joy, finding the silver lining, the humor in the daily drama, and pointing out the lesson in the poop.
So there! Five spiritual lessons I learned from observing my Mom. I have now lived without her for 36 years, and enjoyed many more than the 51 years she had on this earth. But in no way has my influence, my good deeds, my humility, my joy, my walk as a Sojourner in Christ’s steps outpaced hers. Fortunately, I am reminded on the anniversary of this profound loss, that I still have time to become who she envisioned and empowered me to be. For that I am grateful.