Decades

As my blog title implies, I'm a person of great reflection. This week my mind is replete with memories and reflection as I approach growing another year older and experiencing the 11th anniversary of my Mom's passing. It seems I'm a bit consumed with loss recently. My company was recently acquired, causing a loss of co-workers to layoffs and a loss of what we've always known to new and exciting territory. Sweet Sara, a blogger I've followed for about a year or so, just left this world for Heaven, all to soon for our liking, but just the right time for her. After years of being confined and homebound due to a debilitating disease and multiple complications, she is now free from pain and whole...and surely dancing down the streets of gold. Losing her at a young age brought back memories of my sweet friend, Jan, who is surely greeting her at the feet of Jesus. Lest we get mired in this discussion of loss, let me move on to the true focus of this post...time...or more specifically, decades.

I'm about to celebrate another birthday, of which I'm thankful for, but I'm reminded that I've lived many decades. And, I'm closer to being half a century than I am to being a quarter of a century. The day after my birthday marks the 11th year of my Mom's passing...the beginning of the second decade I'm living this earthly life without her. I could fill the ocean with things I wish I could tell her, which clearly means we'll have plenty of time to catch up in eternity. Each passing year I've tried to keep her legacy alive. I once referred to it as keeping a remnant of her life for future generations. I've suceeded in being the fun, creative gift giver she was, and give her the credit for my giddyness when coming up with just the right gift idea. The older I get the more forthright in my opinions I become...thanks, Mom. And, I can talk to just about anybody, just like she used to do and would drive me to crazy embarrasment. I am on the precipice of accomplishing another task...completing a crocheted afghan. I've attempted two projects before (they are stuffed in a garbage bag because I can't bear to just throw away the yarn, though I'm edging on hoarder status with that statement). I've finally found just the right pattern and hope to have it completed for my friend, Christie's, brother and sister-in-law's baby due in December.

Once I got close to completion of this next rung of the legacy ladder, I was already itching for the next Momism to conquer. And I saw her sewing machine sitting unattended and the perverbial light bulb went on above my head. My Mom sewed all sorts of things and her Mom, my Granny, was a seamstress by trade. I would be a natural, right? I started strolling the aisles of the local fabric store back in May during a day of retail therapy and "Rose" time when I was convinced to enroll in their sewing basics class. As I bought a pattern and fabric (assuming Miss Superhero here could figure it all out by myself), the cutter told me I'd be a pro after this 3-hour class. And so I went. And I loved it. When I came home, I used my first lesson on my own machine...threading the bobbin and threading the needle. Now this may sound easy to you non-seamstresses, but, not so. I dug out the instruction book (as the sewing instructor said we might need to do) to follow the steps to prep my sewing machine for business. And as I flipped through the pages of that instruction book, I found this....

It was a certificate that my Mom and Dad signed to commit their home to be a home of prayer. Why it was tucked between the pages of the sewing machine owner's manual is still a mystery to me. Threading bobbins and sewing machines became minimal as I studied this document closely. It was signed on November 9, 1957...a decade after my parents married. Now that is significant for a couple of reasons. First, my Dad wasn't a believer when they married, yet by the time I was born, he was so solid in his faith, I would assume he had been a strong believer since his childhood. This commitment came 10 years into their marriage, about eight years or so after Dad accepted Christ. He was still a baby Christian yet learning what it meant to be obedient. Second, it was 8 years before I was born...almost another decade. That's huge. They had been married 10 years...and childless. I know many couples in today's medical advancements that try for six months and are certain they are destined for a life of infertility. Yet my parents had been married for 10 years at this point and no children, though I know they wanted a family. And, they were committed to making their home full of prayer. Oh how I'd love to ask my Mom how it felt to surrender to this commitment when knowing a prayer she had for a child seemed to remain unanswered. For someone like me who has prayed for a husband for those many years and more, I could use her wisdom and life experience there. In just a providential moment of seeking the steps to use my Mom's sewing machine, I found a priceless little commitment card that speaks volumes.

I did eventually get the machine prepped for sewing, though I have yet to be inspired to take on that first project. I feel that urge to sew coming back again, so my training and toil won't be in vain. But, if I never finish a project, the fact that I was able to stumble upon this jewel of a testimony was worth it all. Married a decade with prayers unanswered. Almost another decade before a child entered their life. And decades later I am impacted by a commitment card my Mom...who has been gone a decade...felt compelled to save. To her, maybe it was a tangible to show her that God does answer prayer and He still performs miracles. Oh, how precious to think I'll continue to learn lessons from my sweet Mom for many decades to come.