Just One Rose Will Do

Dear readers,

Let me apologize for this week, for I impart neither Biblical verse nor Biblical insight.  I would like to, instead, share with you something that has been on my heart this past week.  Last night it was at its pentacle, as I was distraught and sleep eluded me.

Two years ago today my mother left this world of sin and sorrow and entered into a much better city.  It is a city whose foundation itself is made of precious gemstones, whose gates are of pure pearls, and whose streets are lined in glistening gold.  In that city there is no darkness, no sadness and no tears; only joy and contentment.

I miss my mother.  I miss her deeply.  I do not miss the sickness that she had become the last few years that she walked this earth.  I miss instead the loving kindness and silliness that she showed.  I miss her arms reaching out to me.  I miss the proud look in her eyes when she looked at me.  And I miss hearing and talking to her.

She was such a fantastic mother.  She was always there for me no matter what the circumstance may have been: from me being beaten up by bullies in school, from being on experimental prescription drugs that made me so heavy and weak that I couldn’t even step over a small snow-plowed hill (I had to lay down and roll over it), to hospital stays and falling in love.

She always watched in fascination as I practiced my magic tricks on her.  She listened intently to the songs I was learning on the guitar (which must have been an assault on the ears), not to mention the constant “boom, boom, boom” of a baritone horn throughout junior high and high schools.

She always tried to understand when I talked to her about astronomy and astrophysics, though I knew she never did.

When I was younger, she would stay up late and watch old horror movies with me.  I told her I wasn’t afraid, especially of the Frankenstein’s monster, but she knew better.  We liked to watch Elvis movies (she is the one that introduced me to him) and the beach blanket bingo movies.

I remember her singing old hymns while cooking dinner and getting me up on Sunday mornings to go to church.  And I so remember the big country breakfasts on Saturday with sausage, eggs, biscuits, etc.

She did so much for me that it would take several volumes to list them all.

I went to see her today.  She loved flowers, but always had said that if you couldn’t give her flowers while she was alive and could enjoy them, then don’t give her flowers when she was dead.  She also loved the song “Just One Rose Will Do.”  The only version of that song that I can think of is from the bluegrass gospel group The Lewis Family.  In it, one line reads “Don’t spend your money on flowers, just one rose will do.”

So today I brought her that one rose.  Today I sat and talked to her.

I don’t mind that I couldn’t hear her voice or feel her arms around me or see her twinkling eyes.  I believe she is in that beautiful city on the hill, worshipping her Saviour.

And for Jesus, I will always take the back seat.

I love you mom.