Today marks six months of my life without my mom. Six months to the day, she left us to join dozens of her beloveds’ in heaven. As much as I miss her, I take comfort knowing she is now happier than she has ever been.  

As sick as she was, she never lost her sense of humor. I can honestly say (even on her worst days) she always found something to laugh about.

No one could lift me out of a slump like she could. I’m doing my best to emulate all the wonderful traits I treasured the most…her eternal optimism, humor, gratitude and selflessness. 

She was a beautiful woman inside and out. She always took care to look her best for my dad, regularly getting herself fixed up before he came home from work. Her desire to look good on the outside is the one thing I did inherit from her.

Through some cruel stroke of fate, I wasn't born with curly hair. My parents and siblings all have curls, but much to my mom's dismay, no such luck for me. As soon as I grew enough straight hair to wind around a curler, my mom created curls for me. Though there were nights when I begged to go to bed without my "cur-wers," it was a rare night that Dippity-Do and "cur-wers" weren't part of my bedtime routine. If people got a gander of me after I'd been swimming, they were shocked I didn't really have curly hair (a poser!). I'd overheard my mom tell people I was "just as pretty on the inside."  I didn't feel like I passed muster without curly hair. I wanted to tell their shocked faces that I was still pretty on the inside, even without the curls. Sadly, focusing on being "pretty on the inside" has not been a guiding principle in my life.

The last time I needed to get my passport renewed and knowing I would be looking at it for the next ten years, I made sure I got dolled up for the picture. Despite my efforts to the contrary, my picture was devastating. Good heavens! I looked like I’d aged thirty years! My mom said it was no wonder, after all I had been "put through the mill.”  Well, who knew "the mill" could wreak such havoc? To add insult to injury, as I was checking out, an insensitive beast of a man mistook Brett for my grandson. At that point, I wanted to go sit in the car and have myself a good cry.

I am disappointed that looking old and being mistaken for my son's grandmother derailed me like it did.

Even though I think my mom was at least partly responsible for my somewhat unhealthy focus on the outer me, she was fully responsible for the fact that I know Who and What I need to focus on above all else—Jesus. On my lowest days she steered my thoughts to Him, to His promises, to His abounding love and amazing grace. She knew every word to hundreds of hymns and she clung to the Biblical promises packed into all those old songs.  I know I often relied too much on my mom's advice, but I do know the most important decision of my life had to be made by me alone, and I chose Christ...and for that I am eternally grateful.

                                      "Turn your eyes upon Jesus,

                                      Look full in His wonderful face,

                            And the things of earth will grow strangely dim,
                                     In the light of His glory and grace."