Little T and I made a trip to the cemetary today in this bone-chilling cold. Yesterday would have been my mom's 86th birthday. She's been gone for almost 12 years now, and I still really miss her. We took her some purple tulips; purple was her favorite color and she liked any flower except for carnations because they reminded her of death. You see, she was raised in the Depression and carnations were cheap funeral flowers, a sickly-sweet smell she always remembered with distaste.
She always took care of and spoiled me, right up until she passed from pancreatic cancer. I was too young at 32 to fully appreciate her when she died. I was still a selfish daughter busy with three young kiddos, many times viewing her phone calls and requests for visits (she lived about 45 minutes away) as an interruption, instead of being a grateful daughter who appreciated having her around. I remember that we only had six weeks from her initial diagnosis to her death and we spent about half that time trying to confirm the truth we didn't want to believe.
She and dad adopted me when they were older, just a few years younger than I am now actually which is a little sobering, and she always hated it when people asked her if she was my grandmother. Same when they "got me a baby brother" a few years later. She doted on us the ways she knew how and would have done anything for us. I really miss having that kind of unconditional love in my life.
But then I remember I still do. Jesus doesn't care when I've done or not done, where I came from or where I live, He loves me no matter what. He loves you too. Remember that when you need a little love in your life.
Happy Birthday Mom.