Someone has said, "When a child is born, a mother is born."
It may be hard to imagine of our own moms, but it's true. Every mother since time 
began has groped her way through unknown territory, made mistakes and learned on the job.
I know people who consider their moms angels.
I also know a few who've always blamed their mothers for ruining their lives and they long to erase even their memory of them.
Probably most of us fall somewhere in between.
Knowing now what I wish I knew then
My mother died way too young, a few months after she turned 54. It took me a long time to understand how much of her is in me.
Like my love of music.
All I knew as a preacher's kid was that my parents were always up front. Mom always played the organ or piano for everything.
She also gave piano lessons. Every day one or more kids, usually towed by eager parents, showed up in our living room after school. With them came the standard admonition: "Be quiet."
That meant my job was to keep my three noisy, energetic sisters quiet for most of an hour and often to get supper started. The clock never moved slower! All in all, I considered Mom's music more a nuisance than a blessing.
I yearned for a "normal" mother
As far back as I can remember once the evening chores were done Mom would play the piano for her own enjoyment, often the music of classical composers.
Music had drawn my parents together in the beginning, so when Dad had a free night he often joined her, his beautiful tenor soaring while she accompanied him.
Small wonder that many a Sunday he would not only preach, but sing a solo while Mom, the organist/pianist accompanied him.
The congregation always loved it. I knew my parents were talented, but as a kid I wished they were sitting with us in the pew instead of always up front.
What I didn't understand in time
Because of who she was I became familiar with classical and folk melodies and absorbed music through my pores. Every time I hear some of Mom's favorites, I think of her.
I wish I had told her that while I had the chance.
Mom left more than music behind. With her love of beauty and sense of style she made the most of Dad's small salary. She'd stick one zinnia in a vinegar bottle and have a centerpiece.
Besides that, she knew how to jazz up an old outfit and give it some style. My mother probably learned that from her mother, who made fancy hats and clothing and turned out intricate needlework.
Mom held her own in the kitchen, too. She knew how to make food taste good and look good.
The perpetual student
Most of her life my mother kept on learning, everything from trying a new recipe to mastering a challenging concerto.
Was she perfect? No. Is anyone?
I think the demands of her life often overwhelmed her. Today I view her failings more charitably than I once did, probably because I know my own so well.
I know now Mom did what most of us do, the best she knew how. I thank God for her life and her faithfulness.
My mom believed in Jesus
Because she absolutely trusted Him and believed Bible verses like this, she did not fear death.
For God so loved the world, that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life. –John 3:16 (ESV)
Like her, I live in the forgiveness all believers share and I know when Mom stopped breathing she went home to Him.
Yet my mother lives within me still, as elusive as the whiff of a fragrance I can't quite identify.
And I am grateful, so grateful.
Question for you: In what way(s) do you carry your mother with you?
Blessings and joy,
Lenore
