The Party's over - or is it?

 

The party’s over.

Back into a jumper after a couple of heavenly summer-weather weeks in California. Two weeks are enough to slide us towards autumn: we hear it in the cows’ calls; we see it in the spent raspberry canes; we taste it in the ripening blueberries. The day slips into darkness noticeably earlier than when we left. The seasons are on the move, always.

It’s hard to believe that Mom is now into her second century. I hear it in the tiredness in her voice; I saw it in the slowing of her movements and the dimming of her sight. She is slipping away and yet is still very present, able to enjoy a good donut with gusto and nod her head rhythmically as she listens to one of her great-granddaughters play the piano.

I continue to thank God for the joy and privilege of being my mom’s daughter. Her unconditional love has been poured out on all of her family, all of her life. Over fifty people wanted to honour her by coming to her birthday party. Unfortunately, it was too much for Mom, who retired to her room and greeted people in smaller groups. Over the next days, I read out the many cards she received, many of them citing the difference she made in their lives. Nieces with fond memories of her never forgetting their birthday, and always sending a fun card. Camp Fire members of the group she led, recalling the way she guided and encouraged them in developing leadership and other skills. A forever friend grateful for their mutual support as they travel this new territory of old age. A young person grateful for the way she always made him feel like family. Grandchildren and great-grandchildren sending messages and memories.

It's not about a party. It’s about a lifetime of love and selfless giving.

Relationships. Mom has been stellar in building them throughout her life. That hasn’t stopped. Staff at the home speak with smiles of her sense of humour and usually positive attitude.

I don’t know what I am doing, walking Mom home from half a world away, so I lean on Jesus. There are times when Mom and I remind each other that even though we don’t see what’s round the next corner, we are both leaning on someone who does.

And we know that in him, the real party is just about to really begin.