When a parent dies there is a shift within your spirit. It's very subtle and you really have to be aware that it has taken place. My shift started with a question from a very quiet voice within my heart: What does "Grace" mean to you? Although I knew the definition of grace, I had never given it deep consideration. Grace is kind, loving, benevolent, forgiving, charitable toward others and filled with love. Then it hit me. "Grace" was my Mother. For those who knew her, that would be one of the first words to describe her. A woman of grace.
Grace shows herself in many forms. My Mother and Father loved going to church. I did not. The standing joke within our family was "I had churchitis." Growing up, without going to church, there would be no "extra activities" on the weekends unless I had served the Creator first. So, during the week, I made certain my obligations to the Creator were met. After graduating from College and returning home, my Mother and Father figured "I wouldn't stray too far from the tree" and of course I didn't, so they allowed me the freedom to explore my own spiritual path. They had to trust that what they had taught me had not fallen on closed ears. I had to trust what they had taught me was right. Who knew that many moons later I would be able to recall biblical passages and history from my days of Sunday School, Vacation Bible School and a litany of other church related activities.
Even when ill and unable to attend the services or functions; one of my Mother's favorite pleasures was reading the Church Bulletin. A family member always made certain she received her Bulletin and I enjoyed watching her as she lie in her bed; eye glasses perched atop her nose reading and remembering. There was always the question "do you remember so and so? And of course I didn't, however, she would continue with the story about "so and so" anyway. It would always bring a smile to my face. I knew she missed the gatherings and decorating the "Monthly Activity Board", however, I knew that what she missed the most was the worship. The spiritual connection to her Creator. Yet, being a woman of grace, she never complained. This was grace at it's finest. I asked her one day as the train to a new existence drew closer if she was afraid. "No, she said. Curious but not afraid." Her train departed October 28, 2011. I was there as the train left the station and was extremely happy that for a single moment I stood with her on the "edge of glory." I was so blessed I was there and as we locked eyes for the last time, I could almost hear the "Train Conductor" saying "all aboard."
After the "festivities" I was sorting through her papers and began to notice a pattern. There were cards for every occasion; notes from scriptures and a most interesting discovery. On the "non-negotiable" checks that stated the direct deposit amount from Pensions, SSI etc, there was always a "note to herself" on being grateful for "what she had received." I broke into tears as I realized that my Mother didn't just "talk the talk" on having a spiritual connection, my Mother "walked the walk." Her walk was quiet and unobtrusive; yet more powerful than I had ever realized. The gift that grace had bestowed upon her was the gift of love. She spoke through the cards she sent for birthdays, an anniversary, graduations and "thinking of you." However, I will never forget that as she lie in her "sick bed" she wanted to send out cards to others who were ill because she knew "they didn't have anyone to let them know someone cared." Again, grace at it's finest!
My writings are allowing me to walk in the light of my Mother's grace. I desire to walk the walk and talk the talk. I want you and me to help others find the light of grace and through helping others, we find more of our own. Following my Mother's example on the use of "grace" I think we may be on to something good! Something really good!
Peaceful thoughts,
-Dorothea
P.S. As the site is new, there may be a few kinks. Be patient. I promise it will be worth it!
Grace shows herself in many forms. My Mother and Father loved going to church. I did not. The standing joke within our family was "I had churchitis." Growing up, without going to church, there would be no "extra activities" on the weekends unless I had served the Creator first. So, during the week, I made certain my obligations to the Creator were met. After graduating from College and returning home, my Mother and Father figured "I wouldn't stray too far from the tree" and of course I didn't, so they allowed me the freedom to explore my own spiritual path. They had to trust that what they had taught me had not fallen on closed ears. I had to trust what they had taught me was right. Who knew that many moons later I would be able to recall biblical passages and history from my days of Sunday School, Vacation Bible School and a litany of other church related activities.
Even when ill and unable to attend the services or functions; one of my Mother's favorite pleasures was reading the Church Bulletin. A family member always made certain she received her Bulletin and I enjoyed watching her as she lie in her bed; eye glasses perched atop her nose reading and remembering. There was always the question "do you remember so and so? And of course I didn't, however, she would continue with the story about "so and so" anyway. It would always bring a smile to my face. I knew she missed the gatherings and decorating the "Monthly Activity Board", however, I knew that what she missed the most was the worship. The spiritual connection to her Creator. Yet, being a woman of grace, she never complained. This was grace at it's finest. I asked her one day as the train to a new existence drew closer if she was afraid. "No, she said. Curious but not afraid." Her train departed October 28, 2011. I was there as the train left the station and was extremely happy that for a single moment I stood with her on the "edge of glory." I was so blessed I was there and as we locked eyes for the last time, I could almost hear the "Train Conductor" saying "all aboard."
After the "festivities" I was sorting through her papers and began to notice a pattern. There were cards for every occasion; notes from scriptures and a most interesting discovery. On the "non-negotiable" checks that stated the direct deposit amount from Pensions, SSI etc, there was always a "note to herself" on being grateful for "what she had received." I broke into tears as I realized that my Mother didn't just "talk the talk" on having a spiritual connection, my Mother "walked the walk." Her walk was quiet and unobtrusive; yet more powerful than I had ever realized. The gift that grace had bestowed upon her was the gift of love. She spoke through the cards she sent for birthdays, an anniversary, graduations and "thinking of you." However, I will never forget that as she lie in her "sick bed" she wanted to send out cards to others who were ill because she knew "they didn't have anyone to let them know someone cared." Again, grace at it's finest!
My writings are allowing me to walk in the light of my Mother's grace. I desire to walk the walk and talk the talk. I want you and me to help others find the light of grace and through helping others, we find more of our own. Following my Mother's example on the use of "grace" I think we may be on to something good! Something really good!
Peaceful thoughts,
-Dorothea
P.S. As the site is new, there may be a few kinks. Be patient. I promise it will be worth it!
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