Mother's Day = Thanksgiving

Nearly three years ago, my mom died. She was 89 years old.  Though her health had declined in the last five years of her life, she never complained.  She was a five year breast cancer survivor.  She endured a double mastectomy, and radiation treatments.  Eight months after that surgery, her doctor removed one of her cancerous kidneys.  Ten months later she had her entire large intestine removed.  (Oh Momma, if only I could have taken all that from you.)  The post surgical complications forced her to live right next door to death for quite some time.  I stopped counting how often I left her thinking she would die before I returned.  After that surgery, she endured the longest, most painful healing process I have ever witnessed ...  an open wound healing.   No elderly woman should ever have to endure that. Finally, she was diagnosed with multiple myeloma, a cancer of the blood that inhibits healing and fighting infection.  She suffered.  She endured.  She thrived in humor.  She had always lived in a matter of fact, no nonsense, no pretense kind of world and she regularly invited us to join her there.  Near the end, she was moved to a hospice care room within a nursing facility.  She asked us not to bring anything from her apartment.  She knew we would try to spruce up the place a bit... no pictures, no flowers, no familiar furniture pieces from home.  She said it was not her home and she wasn't intending to stay very long.  "Besides, what ever  you bring down here, you'll just have to carry back upstairs."  She was right, she didn't stay long. 

She was married to my Dad for 65 years... sixty-five years.  Her life and marriage were not perfect. Her children are not perfect. She was not perfect.  She did not have a glamorous lifestyle.  She had  everything she needed and she did not complain.  She was thankful for what she had.  She was patient, but would not tolerate whining or complaining.  She was compassionate, but would be the first to leave a pity party.  She knew when to speak and how not to say anything.  She had an uncanny ability to tell you things without saying the words.  Somehow she could lead you down a path of suggestions until something dawned on you. Then, just as you would look at her in that "ah-ha" moment to confirm your realization, she would be on to the next thing, humming as though she had no idea how you had come to that conclusion.  She was sly and she enjoyed that part of herself.  It made her chuckle in self delight.  There was simply nothing better than watching my mother laugh with reckless abandon at something that struck her funny, as one by one, we would surrender to the hilarity of laughter itself.

She did not entertain selfishness, though it stared her in the face daily (times ten, but really 11).  She had 12 pregnancies, 10 children, 33 grandchildren, and a handful of great grandchildren.  She allowed us to have one dog, a bird, several turtles, goldfish and  hamsters, a chameleon, rabbits, an alligator, a duck and a monkey (not all at the same time).  At any given moment, she could locate, make or fix any necessary item before our very eyes without duct tape or a glue gun. Whether it was a costume for a play, the class snack, a last minute gadget for a science fair, or the predictible nightly dinner for twelve, she produced in more ways than one.  I'm thankful in the chaos of life, she knew how to stop and look at small details. 
She loved collecting seashells.  She loved the beach.  It brings me great comfort to think of her sitting on a beach in heaven waiting for us. (Of course, Dad is on the golf course and Mike is in his old wooden boat on the lake.)  On this Mother's Day, I can't help but think of her and call it Thanksgiving.

Thinking of my mom this week

her favorite flower…

and some of her most often used phrases…

“Look at those beee-uuu-ti-ful hydrangeas!”

 “A thing of beauty is a joy forever.”

“Good morning glory!”

"Say you're sorry... right now."

“Don’t worry about them, they put their pants on one leg at a time just like everyone else.”’

“Eat what you can, can what you can’t.”

“We must be the only family in town that washes their floor with milk.”

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

“I’m not everybody else’s mother.”

I’m so glad she was mine!

I have been watching her

and she has been
watching me

under Daddy’s watchful eye
we wait ...

and wait ...
as she warms her nest
for the promise
that is to come

until she reveals

from beneath the shelter of her wings ...

her greatest gifts

As he stands guard

protecting those

he loves

with safety 

Masterpiece

I knew what I was looking for.

I went there to see it.

A very FAMOUS PAINTING,

in the middle of a MASSIVE CEILING,

in a HUGE CHURCH,

in ROME, ITALY.

I imagined the sound of ANGELS SINGING when I finally laid eyes on it.

Having finished our day-long tour of the Vatican Museum and St. Peter’s Basilica, my husband and I sat at a small table in the café.  Tired and thirsty, we guzzled a diet Coke and rested our feet.  We watched hundreds of other people spill into the café and gift shop at the end of their tour. 

Suddenly, it occurred to me. “Wait a second…,  where was…, where…,” I paused again, and made a gasping sound. I tried to calm myself while rapidly searching my brain.  “Where was Michelangelo’s painting of The Creation of Adam?  Where was the Sistine Chapel?”   I blurted it out all at once, abandoning all sense of pride and embarrassment.  “I never saw the, …you know, … God touching Adam’s finger,” I said in an intense, but desperate whine. I felt myself wanting to grab my husband by the neck. “Did you see that ceiling? The Sistine Chapel ceiling?  Did we see the Sistine Chapel?  Were we in it?  You know, … THE ONE we came to see?... the famous painting  that we CAME HERE FOR?  It’s here right?  Did YOU see it?  Oh no, … I NEVER SAW IT!”    

I felt a sense of dread set in.  We looked at each other with wide eyes, in complete disbelief.  It seemed that we were somehow telepathically comparing our realities.  In that split second, I knew.  He knew.  I had missed it.  I wouldn’t have believed it, but apparently, it is possible for 'someone' to be standing in the Sistine Chapel and be so completely distracted by the hundreds of other shoulder-to-shoulder tourists in the Sistine Chapel, that you are totally unaware of being in the Sistine Chapel.  I missed it.

I wanted to blame someone else.  I wanted a "Do Over."  I wanted to yell "Wait, I didn't GO yet!"  Where was the sign? Where was the blaring loud speaker announcement?  “Pat, you are now entering the Sistine Chapel. This is where you will find the famous Michelangelo painting. The one you want to see.  This is your last chance, Pat.  You might never visit Italy again.  Look carefully.  It’s right above your head in the center of the ceiling.”

In spite of the fact that every square inch of the floors, ceiling and walls in the Sistine Chapel is covered with paintings, like the Illustrated Man himself, I missed it.  True, the Creation of Adam  portion of Michelangelo’s ceiling was not as massive or set apart as I thought it would be.  And, the fact that a Chapel usually is smaller in size should have been a clue. But, even though I thought I knew what I was looking for, I still missed it.  This was not happening to me. 

Needless to say, I was embarrassed.  I was the only one responsible for not seeing it; for getting lost and distracted in the crowd, and not looking to the guide or even up, for that matter.  I hadn’t really done my homework.  I just thought I would recognize it when I saw it. 

Thankfully, God’s promise is true in Matthew 7:7 “Ask, and it will be given to you; seek, and you will find; knock, and the door will be opened to you.”  Although, I notice it doesn’t say how many times you should ask, or how many times you might have to look, or how hard you need to knock.  Just keep asking, keep searching, and keep knocking. 

We looked at our watches.  It was almost time for the museum to close. Discreetly, we got up from our table, threw our trash away, gave each other that look, then turned and walked as fast as we could back toward the entrance to the Basilica.   We headed toward the Sistine Chapel.  Retracing our path, we had a long way to go.  At first we walked quickly, not wanting to appear irreverent toward the art we were passing.  Then we began to jog, ... in church.  We quickly passed all the beauty we had just seen that day.  We appeared irreverent anyway.  

And then, right there in the middle of the Sistine Chapel, we stopped and looked up.  There it was…Michelangelo’s beautiful masterpiece.  Astounding.  I thought of him, lying on his back on the scaffolding while painting this magnificent masterpiece.  I wondered how he slept at night (probably on his stomach, I chuckled silently to myself).  I thought of how his passion must have consumed him.  How did he keep his focus, his perspective? I stood there in awe.  I blocked out the crowd, which was noticeably smaller the second time through.  I ignored the noise and other distractions, especially the Italian guard who kept yelling "no photos." I found what I was looking for right away. Irreverently again, I quickly took this picture. It was right there the whole time ... right in front of my eyes, just like God. 

As I continue to celebrate Easter, I want to remember that the miracle of the resurrection is the masterpiece of God  to be found by everyone and enjoyed continuously.  I want to be astounded and amazed that Jesus is alive now.  He is The Living Masterpiece. The Master of Peace.  Consider celebrating Easter a while longer this year.  Be amazed and stand in awe.  Look up.  Look all around you.  Forget the distractions of life for a while; at least long enough to ask, seek, and knock... often.  You can’t miss Him. You will find Him. He’s right in front of your eyes.

Patricia Spreng

Jeremiah 29:13-14

‘And you will seek Me and find Me, when you search for Me with all your heart.  And I will be found by you’, declares the LORD.

 

 

The Butterfly Circus

My 18 year old son shared this movie with me and we watched it together last night.  It is well worth the 20 minutes it takes to watch it.  As much as I love the message of the movie; I love that my son loved it and he knew I would love it.  That kind of connection with a child is my favorite kind of gift.  Thank you, Evan.

To watch the short film: The Butterfly Circus (click here) 

Don’t conform to the behavior and customs of this world, but let God transform you into a new person by changing the way you think.  Then you will learn to know God’s will for you, which is good and pleasing and perfect.  Romans 12:2