Wednesday, June
14, 2017
Although it seems
strange to put into words, I am facing a world today without my mother. Our mom
passed away – rather suddenly – on Monday. Carol Soble was in her 95th
year. One knew this day was coming, sooner than later, but I grapple for words
now that she has left us. I’ll need to find those words when I speak at her funeral
on Friday. You know that old joke asking
where were you born? Reply: In the
hospital; I wanted to be near my mother. Well, Mom has been a critical part
of the lives of my older siblings and myself for our lifetimes. She was a hard
woman to get away from!
When your parents
are gone (Dad has been gone for over 30 years), one becomes aware that the generational
cycle bumps up a notch. We’re the oldest in the family now. We are supposed to
be the sage voices of experience and wisdom. We are the grandparents who go and
visit our adult children and attend the concerts, graduations, and birthdays of
our grandchildren. We are the ones who travel for Christmas. We are the ones who scratch our heads about young
people and whether the world is a safe place for them. We are the ones who have
to ask our adult children for help when the technology is too complex or there
is furniture to lift. We are the ones about whom the kids mutter and shake
their heads and worry about our health and sanity. “Our days may come to seventy years, or eighty, if our strength
endures; yet the best of them are but trouble and sorrow, for they quickly
pass, and we fly away,” (Psalm 90:10).
The one thing
about retirement has been to have the time to really savour the time that I am
living. “Satisfy us in the morning with your steadfast love, so that we may
rejoice and be glad all our days,” (Psalm 90:14). I may not be skydiving,
climbing Mount Everest, learning Chinese, riding a motorcycle across Canada, leaping
tall buildings in a single bound, but I am discovering a new side of joy, hope,
satisfaction, peace, patience, and appreciation in an abundance of small
things. It can be the sight of chickadees playing in the tree in our front
yard. It may be in the smile of a grandson. It may be sitting in the same room with
Susan, she watching TV and me watching baseball on the computer. It may be having
brunch with our friends, Ron and Nola. It may be in the fonder, recalled
memories about Mom.
What’s ahead? I’ve
not a clue. Perhaps it is just as well that I don’t. As Jesus said, “So do not worry about tomorrow for
tomorrow will bring worries of its own,” (Matthew 5:34). Today, the sun is shining;
it is a beautiful day. The coffee is hot. There is nothing too pressing on my
calendar today, aside writing this which I enjoy doing. Kramer, one of our dogs
wants out, and that just may be my exercise for the day. I may choose to seize
the day, carpe diem and all that, but I don’t need to strangle it to death.
“And now I have a word for you who brashly
announce, ‘Today - at the latest, tomorrow - we're off to such and such a city
for the year. We're going to start a business and make a lot of money.’ You
don't know the first thing about tomorrow. You're nothing but a wisp of fog,
catching a brief bit of sun before disappearing. Instead, make it a habit to say, ‘If the
Master wills it and we're still alive, we'll do this or that.’” (James 4: 13
– 15)
Lord willing and
the creek don’t rise!
Dale
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