In God's Hands

Sunday, Mother’s Day, our Pastor gave a lovely homily dedicated to mothers.  It was touching to hear of him speak of me, of my mom, of all mothers in such a holy way.  As he spoke, my thoughts hopped, skipped, and jumped amid the challenges that I face with my own child, those that my mother and mother-in-law faced, and those which my grandmothers faced.  I glanced over to my own teenage son - seated upon the altar – a faithful altar server – so grown – young man – where has time gone?  My heart grew.  The lump in my throat grew, too.  Mother is such an important role.  Have I done as God wanted me to?  With these thoughts, I became lost in memories.  It lasted only a few moments.  What happened next melted my heart, and the lump in my throat, into flowing tears.  The words that caught my attention were, “Lovely lady dressed in blue.”  Most Catholics would immediately think of Mary, the mother of Jesus, when hearing these, but not I.  My thoughts were on my Grandma Foreman….lovely lady dressed in blue.  She liked wearing the color blue.  As long as I can remember, she drove a blue car.  I wonder when she came to like blue so much.  Was it because her own mother died when she was such very young child?  Was it because she leaned on Jesus’ mother in prayer during the challenges in her own life?  Did she look to Mary as an example of how a mother should be?  Was it simply that she liked the color?  The tears flowed.  No tissue.  I made an attempt to gently channel them to the side of my face.  They flowed more.  I wondered if they made a puddle upon my shoulder for all to see.  It matters not.  When the tears ceased, I thanked God for blessing us with a Pastor who always seems to speak to my soul.  I only heard the first few lines of the poem that he read, so I promised myself to search for it.  This morning I did just that.   

Grandma Foreman, our family's lovely lady dressed in blue, I hope that Jesus is enjoying your stories as much as we did!