Mother’s Day 1946. My parents were married in Indianapolis, Indiana. My mother wore a blue suit that afterwards was her best church outfit. They intended to be missionaries to India, but my dad came down with tuberculosis that year and my mom with rheumatic fever, and it was eighteen years before they made it to India.
In her later years a series of tiny strokes made her lose the sharpness of her thinking, but not the sweetness of her spirit. She forgot people’s names and faces, but not Jesus’ love for them.
On this Mother’s Day I’m grateful for such a wonderful role model. I hope to pass on just a bit of what she gave to me over all those priceless years.