Mother’s Day 2018

It’s 4 days past Mother’s Day. Now I am choosing to go public. Mother’s Day was a full, fun and happy day. Christine & I went to early service @CrossRidge Church, then with MX5 top down we drove to The Glades, rhododendron park to enjoy the way over 20 floral acres & then sat for a String Quartet concert. We cam home & Christine put on a dinner for eleven, our family, 6 adults & five children ages 10-17, roast beef and wines and dessert ... fantastic.

Perhaps what Christine appreciated next to having her family nearby was my written morning tribute to her. Here it is.

Mother's Day 2018

This weekend marks the tenth year that I have not purchased a Mother's Day card for my mother. She is no longer here to accept it or to read my loving and appreciative remarks.  She needs no support from her firstborn son. Having received from the LORD the affirmation given to disciples who have been faithful and have done well, she resides now in paradise. 

I can and will honour you, Christine as the mother of my two children, Cari and Jeff. Christine, you were a stay at home mom through my children's formative years, not because it was the culturally acceptable practice, but because you were committed to their best interests. You were determined to be present with them and for them. Yours was an informed and practical motherhood in the early years, reading, listening, teaching and protecting and always loving. Your appetite for God's Word has always been apparent and served as a model of how God's truth can direct the many decisions for living. You have always been an encourager to your children's aspirations and abilities. You are a disciplined follower of Christ who prays for her children and grandchildren daily, and this has been your routine in all the years we have lived together. You do all that you possibly can to nurture relationships with your five grandchildren, so they know you are always available. You have sought to build trust so they can learn from you. You have helped them whenever and however you can. They know that you care for them. Each of them has a special place in your heart. You love people and touch their lives with genuine interest both in person and through phone calls. You may pop in, or bring a baked item to enjoy, or give a hug. You love to help others. You are hospitable and enjoy the company of friends. You are wise, and speak prudently into people's lives. You honour the LORD in so many ways, not least of which is as a wonderful mother and grandmother.

I’LL BE DOWN TO GET YOU IN A TAXI, HONEY.

My brother Murray and I Facetimed today and he told me this.

My Dad was 92 years old and he was over the moon because he was going to a Christmas Dinner with his favourite girl. Mom had been in long-term care for one year while dad lived alone in an adjoining apartment facility. It was December and Dad's apartment neighbours were scheduling an annual Christmas Dinner. Mom's meds were balanced and she was feeling better than she had in a long time. Dad asked my brother Murray, "do you think it would be okay if I took Mom to the dinner?" Murray replied, "I don't see why not." Murray made the arrangements. The caring staff promised to have Mom's hair done and a lovely dress ready to wear. Mom could be seated in a wheel chair and if she grew weary during the evening, he could leave with her. Murray sensed Dad's excitement as the date grew nearer.  Murray had Dad's suit dry cleaned, and Dad had a favourite tie to wear. Murray said he would accompany Dad to Mom's room to insure all was well. Dad was noticeably pumped about this evening. His face and his mood told Murray that Dad was going on a date, a special evening with his sweetheart. They took the elevator to the first floor and as they walked down the lengthy corridors, an enthusiastic Dad surprised Murray by breaking out in song. The tune was unfamiliar to Murray as Dad sang heartily the words to 'Darktown Strutter's Ball' a landmark 1917 recording by the Original Dixieland Jazz Band. Upon finishing it by the end of the corridor to Murray's utter shock, Dad jumped off the ground and clicked his heels together.

I'll be down to get you in a taxi, honey

Pick you up 'bout half past eight

Oh honey don't be late

I want to be there when the band starts playin'

Remember when we get there, honey

Two step, we're gonna have a ball

I'm gonna dance out of my shoes

When they play the Jelly Roll Blues

Tomorrow night at the Darktown Strutter's Ball

Got my new threads ready

And they're really something

With you in yours we'll look a smash

We're gonna make a splash

And when the band starts playin'

Baby we'll start swayin'

Remember when we get there honey

We're gonna dance the night away

And things are gonna hit the roof

When they see the way you move

Tomorrow night at the Darktown Strutter's Ball

Mom and Dad have been gone since 2007 and 2008 respectively, and Murray, Neale and I cannot help thinking about them occasionally.