My mom could never wear perfume because her nose was sensitive, so I went most of my childhood not having a real tangible fragrance that reminded me of mom. However, she did find a perfume she could handle a few years before she got sick. It was a perfume that, to me seemed too strong...but she loved it absolutely. It was a classy scent..."Ralph" by Ralph Lauren, and it smelled kind of like apples, I remember. When I put my nose to the testers in the department stores my breath is taken away for a moment and I find it hard to breathe as my emotions are flooded by memories connected to this fragrance. She usually only wore it on special occasions. On Sunday mornings, my sisters and I would always go into her master bathroom to borrow something, usually a hair brush or we'd try to sneak away with her new eye liner. The bathroom was filled with the smell of mama on those special days of the week. I remember her and daddy going on date nights and I would watch the kids. As they made their way to the back door, daddy's hand would be at the down of her back ushering her to the car. Her fragrance trailed behind her as they shut the door behind them.
Mama's kitchen was the place I always seemed to get my hug when we came home for visits after I got married. The ceilings were taller than most, and as I rounded the corner of the entry way she was always standing at the oven stirring dinner or putting something into the oven. When she saw me, we both shrugged our shoulders in excitement and smiled really big. We leaned our heads to the side and gave each other a big, warm squeeze. This is how I envision her meeting me in heaven. I actually had a dream one night of her walking towards me when I got through the entrance of heaven. It was a clear picture in my mind of our moment. The moment we shared when she would shrug her shoulders in excitement and then stretch her arms out to hold me close. Her hugs are irreplaceable.
I feel closest to mom when I am standing at a table at a yard sale rummaging through used books looking for something to add to my collection. We would spend our Saturday mornings looking for treasures to put in our house and we never came home without a handful of books. It took us a couple of years to sort through all of mom's curriculum and books from over the years. She would rather read than do housework, and she would rather sit and teach us something new, than do laundry. She knew what was really important- family time and our relationships with each other and our Lord.
Our home was never perfectly clean growing up, but she was adamant about our hearts being pure. I once told her that I had slipped and said a curse word when I dropped my cell phone in a sink full of water. She looked at me with disapproval and said, "No, Jen. That is not in your heart." Purity was her only concern and holiness was what she strived for most. She put the fear of God in us at a young age. She told us, "everything is either black or white...there is no grey area"... and we had to constantly make the choice to the right thing, regardless.
The biggest regret I have is living in denial when she was so sick and choosing not to spend more time with her than I did. I couldn't imagine my life without her, and so I just didn't. I acted as though nothing would ever change...as though I had forever. So, I encourage you... if you have your mother in arms reach... grab her and hold her as long as you can. Make a point to soak up all of those special (quirky) things she does that drive you nuts. Love her through her heartache, and hold her through her pain. Rejoice in her victories, and stand by her in her triumphs.
Happy Mother's Day to all of you beautiful mothers who give life every day in the small things you do. There is healing in your touch, encouragement in your words, and hope in your laughter. Do not grow weary in doing good for your families. You are making a difference, and it is God's will that you do these things.
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