I’m in Ben’s home, talking to Elizabeth and Anne. Carin and
I are doing “door to door� again today. We share our hearts. I don’t want to
give these women the ABC’s of salvation. I don’t care if they say a prayer or
ever come to our church. I want to share God’s heart for them. I may never see
a result from the minutes we spend in this living room.
Carin asks the group in the room, “Who do you say God is?� There are nervous
laughs like a group of fifth graders in Sunday School, unsure of what answer
the teachers want.
“In my dining room at home, my mom has names of God lining the walls. All
around the room-Yahweh, Jehovah Jirah, Redeemer, Teacher, Father. It wouldn’t
make a difference if you knew every single name that lines those walls. What
makes the difference, what we are hoping will happen in your life is that you
choose to live your life in a way that God can be each of those things in your
life.�
I don’t know where that response came from, or why my mind went to Mom’s dining
room in Alabama. (I also left out the little fact that most of the names are in
Hebrew.) And while I hope those words meant something when they were said, my
mind went back home. It has been an amazing thing for me to realize how precious my family is, how deep of an impact they have had on my faith.
As this race goes on, I think we’re starting to talk about home more and more.
We remember little things or what “normal life� used to be like. Random stories
pop up and we ask about each other’s families more. It’s not unusual to hear
something along the lines of “What’s your mom like?� I generally throw in a
story to illustrate.
She’s a mom. I mean, she
is a mother. She is a mom to
more than just me and the biological brother. The wedding day for one of my
college roommates, my mom shows up in the dressing room. Well, actually she’s
there for hours before the wedding, helping us with makeup and hair (sorry I
got frustrated with the hair, mom), taking pictures, being the calm one
standing back and watching some craziness. We all needed her there. Then she
pulls out the “something old� and asks Joy which handkerchief she wants to
carry with her bouquet-my dad’s grandmothers, mom’s grandmothers or
great-grandma’s.
Not the same wedding from the handkerchief story, but yet another one of the adopted daughters. 🙂
She’s adopts kids left and right. Forget all the legal
paperwork, that’s not necessary. And age doesn’t really matter. Honestly,
people get warned before they come out to the parent’s house: “My mom will
adopt you. She will be in your life. If you’re not ok with that, you don’t have
to come out for dinner.� I’ve never had anyone pass up dinner.
She’s Jewish. She cooks. She plays matchmaker. I don’t
really know how to separate those three. I’m gonna ignore the last one for a
bit. 🙂
Being Jewish and cooking though, definitely can’t explain the two separately.
Love is shown through food. You’re celebrating? Here’s food. You’re sick?
Here’s food. You’re sobbing? Here’s food. You’ve already had seconds? Here’s
your third plate. We’re moving to Alabama in three weeks? Family meal from Taco
Bell (ten years later, I still haven’t forgotten that one). Feel the love when
the food is put in front of you. This topic’s gonna have to end cuz my mind is
going through the list of things I wouldn’t mind having in front of me right
now.
She’s a Lion and a Beeler. Haha. Unexplainable. Don’t think
I can find a story to describe this one. 😀
Post-white water rafting in Costa Rica
She’s the family nurse. Honestly, two and a half years of
nursing school didn’t give me as much knowledge as my mom has about caring for
people. There have been multiple years of life at home that involved a hospital
bed in one of the rooms, medical equipment, nurses coming in, hospital shower
chairs… She taught me more about the caring aspect of nursing than I could have
possibly picked up in a nursing school.
She always has an empty room or space on the couch. It’s
easy to have a home, space, furniture. There’s something special that makes it
a home, an escape, a safe place, somewhere to crash. And there’s something even
more special when that home is an escape, safe place and crash pad for more
than just biological children. Constant welcome and love poured out from a mom…
She’s the emotion of our family. The glue that holds so many
together. The heart that everyone can run to.
