Mondays, fresh with beginnings and business to take care of, still have the aroma of the weekend; often leaving us pondering how quickly endings arrive. Memories are real, but their sun has set and we don’t profit from sitting idly in their shade. I sat last evening going through photographs from the 1980’s and 90’s as requested by my daughter who conveniently forgot to do so before she left. She needed a family vacation picture from her childhood for a work project today. Old pictures are dangerous! Reminiscing can be sweet or sour, and sadly I notice each time I return to the shoeboxes of memories, that our film and camera, not to mention the lousy photography, have left many memories faded, almost non-existent; not too unlike my own ability to remember!

The fair complexion and auburn hair I once disliked, would now be welcome in place of my more aged appearance. Like so many things, it’s best accepted and not grieved. There are too many situations in life that deserve our grief, so I do not recommend creating more.

Throughout my Monday mountain of laundry, my mind was revolving around the past weekend’s activities and today’s anniversary of my mother’s passing. But there was no time to stop and write and now I’ve forgotten what I was going to say. Mostly, I guess, it is how we ought not to look back too long, as we aren’t going that way anyhow. Father’s Day and our son’s birthday are so close that we often celebrate both the same weekend, and I was excited about grilling Saturday to celebrate our son, and out to eat Sunday to celebrate my husband. Family time is important, and also important, is to stop and praise God for creating family.

So how did all that pan out? Well, not as I planned; heat that could almost have cooked the steak without the grill smothered me on the porch. Our son had worked all day and fell asleep before he came so we waited…waited…The food was good, I will say, but the best part was the four of us sitting in the sunroom chatting. Then, with all my preparations throughout the day, my feet, back, and shoulders were screaming when I tried to put them to bed.

My husband became ill with upper respiratory symptoms and hardly cared how Saturday went, or even if the food was good. But bless his bones, he was up Sunday morning first, coaxing himself to be ready for worship. The rest of the day was good; daughter arrived back at her home safely by mid-afternoon; son back to his home; and husband and I finally got a much needed nap. How old does that sound? I know. It’s sad. But it’s wonderful too! All were safe. We were together. I recuperated and actually found a nice photo which was useful in our daughter’s project.

Then today, the day fifteen years ago on which my mother passed, found me remembering something wonderful about her too. Though there were characteristics about herself she wanted to change, and though her house was often messy with projects, cooking, canning, kids, whatever, she was there. She was doing life in a way that gave her family everything they needed. No time for looking back, she plowed forward through rain or shine, to make time for us all to be together and grow in one another’s shade. On the day our son was born in 1977, my mother was canning green beans, cooking a large supper for us and my brother and dad who at that time were farming and going through a rough patch. My husband and I had landed there two days before while our house was being readied for us to move into, and wouldn’t you know it – Chad came three weeks early, emergency cesarean section. Suddenly Mama had a family of six living there, and a family of five from West Virginia coming to stay to see the new baby. How do you put eleven people in two full beds, two twin beds, and a bassinet? It worked out because of my selfless beautiful God-loving Mama. And several pallets of quilts on the floor.

I am glad to have grown in the shade of my giant of a Mama. Linger long enough with your memories to be thankful; then grow forward.