‘Marilyn, it’s your daughter, Michele,’ I heard Sophie say
as she held the phone to Mom’s ear.
‘Michele, how is everybody?’ she asked, in the old,
accustomed way. Her voice was rough, but strong. For a moment, she was back. She
sounded like Mom.
We spoke of how much we missed each other and wished we
could see each other; then, as she summed up her understanding of our situation,
she called me ‘Mama’.
I never knew my Grandmother. I wonder if my voice carries
any of the same timbre as hers did, or if it is just the familiarity of a voice
once known and heard so often. A voice of love. I don’t know, but it’s nice to
think maybe I carry something of my Grandma in my own life.
Mom, (like the rest of us, really), is on the threshold of
eternity at nearly 102. When she steps through that door, she will step into
pure love, where perhaps linear relationships are no more. Whether she is mama
or daughter won’t matter because the love will be the connection.
Love is the key to everything. For God so loved the world,
that he gave his only, much-loved Son so that all who believe in Him will have
eternal life. What a promise. What a hope.
In this darkening world where the powers that be operate
from a position of fear and hate, I choose today to live in love and faith.
The political outcome in Manchester overnight is being
hailed as a beacon of hope; how much more is the real, everlasting hope Jesus
offers.
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