My mother lives in Heaven. Mother’s Day is a difficult holiday for me because I always miss her even more on that Sunday set aside to honor mothers.
I’m thankful to have had a godly mother. One of my favorite memories of her involves Sunday afternoons. I’m thinking specifically of five years in my life when we drove more than thirty minutes to church.
For some of that time, Mom’s car was a Volkswagon Bug. Since this was in the 70s, you should be picturing Herbie (a Disney character) not the rounder, shinier bugs that appeared from Germany in the 2000s. (Yes, I realize I am old. Thank you for pointing it out.)
My older sister got the shotgun position. Mom would start the car. I still recall the distinctive ringing rumble. The fact I sat practically on top of the engine helps with that vivid recollection.
On rare—and wonderful—occasions, we would pull into Kentucky Fried Chicken and get a bucket of chicken–original recipe–to take home. With that delicious aroma overwhelming the slight scent of regular gas fumes, it was a miracle any of the chicken made the long trip. Or that I remember anything else. Everyone knows the smell of fried chicken could distract a charging bear.
Once we hit the highway, Mom asked us about our Sunday school classes.
I was quick to recite the memory verse. My sister glared at me, rolling her eyes. Yes, I was probably showing off. I was the little sister. I had to have something to brag about.
After she questioned us in a way that reinforced the lesson, we would sing.
This was not your typical sing-along with the radio. And I don’t think cassette tapes had been invented yet, so you can be certain no one had dreamed up music apps. That was back when phones were tied to a wall and only used for making calls.
We sang choruses. Or campfire songs.
The trip blipped by.
It’s safe to say my love for music originated with my mother on these Sunday drives.
I’m thankful to have this and many other precious memories of my mom.
“I love you, Mom. You taught me to love Jesus, and that’s been an important cornerstone for my life.”
Maybe the Lord will pass that message along to my mother.
What’s your favorite memory of your Mom? Why not take a moment to tell her that (even if it’s via private messenger to Heaven)?