Mother, My Mother

 My last blog was called "A Dread Ahead".  Well it came on October 6, 2020.  My mother left this planet to take up a new residence in the presence of our Lord.  The pain of her absence and the finality of her death sucks the breath out me, decompressing my lungs..  My breathing space gets very small.

This woman gave birth to me, she was in my life from the first instant of conception.  Now, she cannot be seen, she cannot be touched.  There is no way I can hug her again or look into her eyes and tell her I love her. Even as I  think about that, my lungs begin to ache.

She was so much a part of who I am I find myself floundering to find how to stable myself.  She first comforted my brow as an infant.  She gave me milk from her breasts, bathed me, and kissed me.  She picked out pretty baby clothes for me.  She sat with me on the front porch to get fresh air and sunshine in the little squatty saw mill house we lived in when I was born. 

She never for one minute ever made me think I was not good enough.  Even through the hard times in her life after my father was killed in a vehicle accident ( he was changing a tire for someone else on a highway in Florida and someone back ended the vehicle he was changing the tire on, which made the axel crush him) at only twenty four years old at the time with two children, she was the example to me to do what you have to do to carry on.

She did not make good choices many times, she suffered for that, as we all do when we make poor choices, but she had this ability to regroup most of the time and hit the rebound button for whatever it was and continue forward, even if she continued to make poor choices.  

She wrote books, painted a gallery of oil paintings of landscapes, and  worked very hard to get her nursing license. Her expertise was with the elderly which she finally used to start the first assisted living in Houston County Georgia to care for the elderly.  She had to start with five clients and she lived in the house with them, with no extra outside help until more beds were added.  She had a tough time then, but she made it work. We laughed many times at some the situations she dealt with during that time. Today that business has forty five beds and hundreds of people and families have been helped since 1982. 

Death brings a different perspective to us of life.  We begin to see things as much more valuable than they previously were seen.  We take so many things for granted, and when those things are no longer there, we want to back up and see if we can do it over again.  We cannot.  Death is a great teacher for those who remain alive. Our heart becomes softer, our priorities change, people become more valuable, and forgiveness is easier to come by or else people become angry, blaming God, and become bitter.

I saw my mother progress to the part of her life where she became aware of what lessons death had taught her;  she had lost two husbands, her parents, five siblings and was basically the last one standing. She saw that life was quickly coming to an end and she seemed to want to give out more to her family and those she never knew.  She was compassionate and wanted to do the work of the Lord.  She was always seemingly afraid that she had not done enough and struggled with her troubles being the result of not being completely obedient to the Lord.

I would often say to her, "Mom, the Lord is not a punishing Father."  He is love.  You can never be good enough to merit salvation, you just have to accept His son. She knew those things, but seemed never absolutely sure that her troubles were not a result of something she had failed to do for Him.

With all my generation above me gone now, I realize that others in my family will be looking for that steadfastness, that feeling that there is a rock in the family, and I want to give them the comfort of always knowing that my love for them is ever strong and I want to stand strong, and know that the torch has been passed down.

Lottie Griffin Royal December 27, 1928-October 6, 2020.  Fly high, Mom!