You blew into our daily lives for a brief three days last week to help Kristen and me collect pieces of our days and time. With each visit, I try to take more of you in, savoring the rest and wisdom you bring for our family, for like a cool Texas breeze in the midst of summer, you are gone again, leaving behind lingers of hope that the hot seasons of life are not forever. And we’re grateful for your breezes whenever they come. I only had one snapshot from last week when you took the grandkids to Chick-fil-a for lunch and chocolate sundaes. Blurred hands nourishing. For now, this picture said more of you than a shouldered smile ever could. This is the way you serve people: with a table and food. (And of course, your phone.)
As a child, I took for granted those sacred meals, too young to understand their real worth, and now I wonder, how many people have touched Jesus because of your table and food, taking him in as we share ourselves and our food together? Mark once asked you; you laughed, knowing you had no way to even begin counting. You and dad paved roads out of rough earth for our family’s daily communion, bringing us and so many others to the table, teaching with your life the Father’s heart: there’s always room for everyone at the table. And now it is your grand/children’s heritage, a legacy that permeates every corner of our hearts still; there’s always room for us at the Table. Thank you, mom, for always making room at your table and in your heart for your children, grandchildren, and so many more, feeding our spirits with our true legacy in Jesus.
I love you, mom. Happy Mother’s Day.