1985

For her funeral, Mother had composed a letter for her family and wanted me to make a copy for each member.  A line was left at the top of the page, and I was to fill in the blank with the person's name.  Her legacy in question, Mother wanted each of us to know her heart.  Her words were generous and heart-felt, and spoke to us from her heavenly home.

"The trumpets have sounded and the King is coming!  Praise the Lord! He is carrying us through in His loving arms!  As I stand before Him today and look into His face, these are my requests of Him for you.

For Jimmy, my precious, devoted, loving husband who has gone far beyond the call of duty in his caring for me in recent days - I ask, Lord, give him an ever "closer walk with You."

And for my girls - when we started planning for our family we asked you, Lord, to give us mentally, physically and spiritually healthy bundles form heaven.  Since you always give us more than we dreamed of asking, we were overwhelmed at the beauty of each 'flower' you presented to us. Each flower was a different color and design with unique petals and form.  Slowly they unfolded at first, giving us glimpses of the talents and abilities that were part of the whole plant - the plan and design of their lives.  Then is seemed, Lord, we turned around one day to see each flower fully opened and we realized you had blessed each girl beyond all we had ever expected.  As their Creator, Lord, don't ever let them become complacent about or lazy with their miraculous gifts.  May they use them, Lord, to fulfill the separate, individual destinies for which You created them.

Thank you for our sons, Lord - for sending them just when we needed them to carry us through the good times and the rough times.  As different as their wives are and yet equally well designed, I pray for them that You give them wisdom, love, understanding, strength, and courage and that ever more You help them see more clearly who You are."

Mother then blessed each grandchild specifically and individually. "For all these, my grandchildren, I give you thanks today, dear Lord, and praise You for the short time you loaned them to us.  Bless them, protect them, and help them, with Your daily intervention, to find what they were born to be and then give them the grace and power to do it.  And, dear Lord, help them to somehow remember how very much I have loved them while I could touch and kiss them on the earth.

So now I give them all back to You...each one of my family and ask Your blessings.  We prayed each day for each one singly and I ask that they  learn to pray for each other in my absence. May we all meet here, in Heaven, one day for that final 'family' time with You.  For them this is a dark "Friday of death.'  But I know it is true that 'Sunday is on its way!'

I love you dearly and leave you my love, my Christ, and my blessings. 'For I know Whom I have believed and am persuaded that He is able to keep that which I've committed unto Him against that day.' II Timothy 1:12.' "

A haziness shrouds much of my memory of Mother's actual funeral service.  I had been very busy with my children and with funeral preparations in the few days between her death and the church service for her.  I had written a poem for Mother, but knew I could not read it aloud.  Bill thought he could.  Mother wanted two songs sung: "It Is Well With My Soul" and "We Shall Behold Him."  A man with a rich baritone made us all believe that it was well with her soul because she was at that moment beholding Him.  No tears for me, though.  The experience was ineffable and bypassed the well from which tears are drawn to reach for a more unsettling, deeper sphere.  She had escaped.  How could I cry?

Somewhere between singing and preaching, Bill arose to the podium to read the poem over Mother's open casket.  There she lay all dressed in pink, peacefully present at this celebration of her life.  Stoically, Bill began to read in steady cadence my eulogy to my precious mother whom he loved.  Not surprisingly, in the recollectons of her sweet smile and welcoming hospitality, her former joys and recent sorrows, her love for her God and her children, came for Bill memories of robes that are "perfect" and fresh lemon meringue pies, weekend retreats for us when Mother cared for our children, her willingness to serve, her devastation over Daddy, and Bill's voice began to quiver.  In the rush to get home, it seemed at first that he had forgotten why he had been summoned.  In the reciting of the words, his heart was jolted and quaked with the reality that Mother was gone. He cried then.  Read and cried.  Stopping to control himself a bit, then going forward like a lurching train, he finished - made his way to the end.

August is so hot in Texas and I can still feel the sun on my neck and the sweat on my upper lip as I picked up daisies and rose petals to throw on Mother's open grave.  I remember wondering what she was doing in heaven at that very moment.  Was she still mesmerized by the face of Christ? The wonder of it eased the pain as the the light wind caught the flowers and placed them atop the casket now down deep in the ground, Mother inside forever.  She was not dead.  She was somewhere else and she was ebullient.

The processional finally made its way to her home now vacant of her presence yet overflowing with the sense that she had only recently departed.  Everything was still where she had placed it, as if she had only gone for a few minutes and would return soon.  From car after car came people carrying food into the house.  Casseroles, cakes, pies, breads, fried chicken and salads began to pile high on every imaginable kitchen surface.  The food was to nourish our family for several days as well as feed the funeral attendees as they came to pay their respects and to encourage us.  The kitchen bustling made my heart ache for my mother.   Bustling there was what she did best!  Her friends were so efficient that I made my way alone to the back porch where Mother and I had spent so much time that spring and summer.  It was there I had asked her to somehow let me know she was all right.

On the porch was a large circular redwood table and beside it a settee where we had sat and drunk sweet iced tea. In the chairs were vinyl cushions with bright white, yellow and green flowers printed on them.  I sighed wearily as I sat down, so thankful for a few minutes to reflect.  My body relaxed as I sank down into the vinyl meadow and laid my head back to look up at the crystalline blue sky.  Deep breaths.  Thoughts cleared.  What happened next, I would never have expected!  Mother's face appeared before me, glowing! It was as if tiny stars twinkled in the air around her and the radiance of her countenance made me sit up straight. Mother's eyes gleamed with joy and her smile seemed to be the purest of reactions to a sense of complete peace.

"It's all right, precious," she cooed.  "It's all right."

She hung there a moment longer so I could drink her in, and then she was gone.

"I'm so glad, Mother," I breathed.  "So glad."