Well, it finally happened. Mom passed away. I had been preparing for it for decades, but I suppose one can’t ever really be ready for the gravity of it, the finality of it, until it happens.
Mom was 103 years old, a pretty good run by any standard. At the end her quality of life was not ideal, and she often told us she was more than ready to meet her Creator.
I have often wondered what that feeling must be like…..to actually be ready to give up all of one’s earthly blessings….to be willing and even wanting to trade the known and the certain and the loved and the valued, to make that inevitable journey into what we believe and hope and trust is a better place.
Perhaps it happens when we are truly convicted that we have accomplished our purpose on this earth. When we have lived out the life that we perceive has been laid out for us. When, as the Bible tells us, we have “run the race”.
That would certainly be appropriate in the case of Mom. She spent her 103 years modeling unselfishness and service. It was so easy to underestimate her because she never found it necessary to point to herself or to her accomplishments, so that by observation one would think she had none. In reality she was very smart and multi-talented, at the top of her class in high school, star of her senior class play, skilled at keyboard and ukelele, savvy enough at accounting to keep the books for her husband’s business.
Yet most of her circle of acquaintances would not know any of this. She chose to channel those talents into quietly serving and caring for her family and her community, and God forbid she cause anybody to go out of their way to do something for her.
She modeled many things for me, the most challenging of which is humility. I learned by being close to her life what that really is. I used to think humility was serving others and not bragging about it or expecting acknowledgment for it. In reality, that’s not even close. Real humility is a life of service to others without even being aware there is credit and acknowledgment to be had. You do it because it’s the way life is supposed to be lived.
And perhaps once that life has been properly executed, you truly can be at peace with taking your eternal rest. I think that’s where Mom got to, that point where you have spent all the energy, used up all the heartbeats, in the way you were designed for. Seemed so simple and natural for her. She got so much joy from passing out unconditional love. Wish it were so for me.
I can come up with many flimsy excuses for not being the person I have the spiritual potential to be, but one excuse I can never make is that I don’t know what it looks like.
It’s sad to lose my Mom. But I feel even sadder for the world. Maybe she actually was a bit selfish. She only gave us 103 years.
It wasn’t enough.