With the death of my beloved Queen this week, my feelings are quite tender and my thoughts about the hereafter on my mind...
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| Mom |
I’m a believer . . .
My mom was a wonderful person. A hard worker. Kind and caring. Supportive. Encouraging.
And funny. She gave us such terms as “Don’t eat that! It’s for Christmas!” and “I’m going to stop buying that peanut butter. You kids just eat it!”
And the ever popular “What's wrong with that milk. There's nothing wrong with that milk. It tastes just fine!”.
But Mom had a trait that she struggled with her whole life.
She was a world-class worrier.
She worried over debt and income and other things.
But mostly, she worried about her family. Especially her kids and grandkids.
She worried so much that she made herself sick.
A sickness that, twenty-one years ago, took her life.
I’m like my mother in a lot of ways. Good ways, I hope.
And, though I’m not nearly in her class when it comes to worrying, I do have that tendency.
And that brings me to what happened that night . . .
Some of my children were struggling. The downturn in the economy had cost many in our area their jobs and our family was not immune.
The stresses of job-hunting as well as keeping a family going with little or no income were taking their toll.
And I’d been worrying.
One day, I was sitting on the edge of my bed, sunk in despair.
And then a scent drifted over me.
A scent I hadn’t smelled in years.
My mother’s favourite perfume.
Now, you have to know that I did/do not wear perfume. And that particular scent hasn’t been sold in forever.
I knew it was my mother.
Knowing I was upset and doing what she could to make things better.
She succeeded.
Thank you, Mom.
I miss you.
I believe in the hereafter. I believe that my Queen has earned her rest and is, even now, sitting with her feet up. Maybe drinking a cup of tea. Thank you for the gift of your selfless service, Your Majesty.
Enjoy your rest.
