Hillside Laughter

I’ve got a home in glory land that out-shines the sun!
Do Lord, oh, do Lord, oh do remember me! . . . ‘Way beyond the blue!

I took Jesus as my Savior, you take Him, too!
Do Lord, oh, do Lord, oh do remember me! . . .’Way beyond the blue!

On September 5, 2013, a small group of family gathered around the graveside of my mother, Ruby Gertrude Tice, to honor her life and to say good-bye.  Momma died on Saturday, August 31.  She was 88.

Momma had Alzheimer’s disease.  It had ravaged her mind and ultimately her body, leaving her totally helpless, but for the support of her family and caretakers, for two years. The disease was long time in coming and it was virtually impossible to separate its effects from the mental illness that Mom struggled with in some measure all of her adult life.

So, in fact, saying goodbye to Momma came/comes with a mixture of very many emotions: relief, sorrow, hope, confusion, and anxiety, to name a few.  Life with Mom has not been easy.  Often over the years she lashed out in anger and bitterness against those she loved.  Yet, so many times, she was eager to show her love in the way she knew best—by giving of herself.  Nobody worked harder than Momma.  Nobody was so careful in spending money—unless, of course, she sensed a real need and then she generously shared from her heart.

Momma’s faith seemed pretty simple:  Love God and work hard to make the world a better place.  But there was little grace—neither for her nor for us.  Her inner emotional turmoil was a burden we all carried and we have spent most of a lifetime “walking on eggshells.”

So how does God make sense of all this?  I have spent a lot of time thinking about this.  I am so glad that God understands Momma like none of us could.  He knows the limitations that early abuse and poverty imposed on her.  He can unravel the confusion of her mind from the intentions of her heart.  I reach out to believe that God has now completed in Momma what he has promised for us all:  He has taken her brokenness, her struggles, her sense of not measuring up, and he has filled all the voids with Himself.  He is giving Momma the love she always craved but seemed unable to receive.

We sang “Do Lord” at Mom’s farewell, as she had requested years ago.  Initially, the choice had seemed a bit odd and childishly simple.  But I think in fact it was very appropriate.  Its truth rings true:  Jesus does and will remember us now and always.  He cares.  Hope lives!

Joyce Thomas