So many memories spouting up. Where do I begin when I have a lifetime full of them? Actually even more than that because I've spent my entire life being shy, quiet and just listening to everyone else. So I don't just have all of my memories, I have massive amounts of memories from my entire family. And my family is a large one. (Or used to be). I feel the memories everyone left me is part of the legacy I've been given. I know the Lord has a purpose and an order for the way they are rising in me, but to me they seem to be coming in just a random order. But since they are here and they continue to bubble out, I may as well just stop worrying about whether they hold any deeper meanings and just start writing.
I've mentioned to you before that for most of the final decade of Mom's life we lived separately and I would go over to her apartment one weekend a month and we would bake, cook, sing, laugh, pray, remember and mostly talk. We knew that the time we had together was dwindling and we should make good use of it while it lasted.
Our every moment together was an opportunity to sort out any problems between us so that there would be no regrets later on after Mom was dead. I didn't want to spend the years without her thinking, "I should have said ..."
(Regrets are poor companions)
But an added bonus is that I got to really delve deep into who my mother truly was. Sometimes people never understand that our parents are people and view them more as "MY parent" and not much more. I thought I knew Mom well, but discovered she was so much more amazing than I had ever previously comprehended. My "Beautiful Revelation".
So as I wander through these memories, please keep in mind that some of it is me remembering the events first hand as a child or younger person, but with Mom's help I could fill in much of the bigger picture and now I also have the understanding that comes with that famous "20/20 hind sight".
On one of our long weekends we posed the question: What is the very, very first thing you can remember?
(NOTE: We often would pose a question, but sometimes it would take days, weeks or even longer before we came up with an answer.)
Mom's birthday is at the end of February, so we figured out by the context of her memory that she must have been 1 year and 10 months old at the age of Mom's first memory because it took place at Christmas. She distinctly remembers looking at the creche set up in her home (a "creche" is what French people call the nativity scene).
She had done something bad and was being punished and somebody told her that every time she did something bad it hurt the feelings of "Baby Jesus". Later she went over and looked at the tiny statue of Jesus laying in the manger and felt horrible and full of shame that she would do anything that would hurt his feelings. She didn't realize anything about who Jesus truly was, but just that she was ashamed that she would be so mean as to hurt a baby. And it overwhelmed her.
My first memory was at an even younger age. We figured out that it would have taken place before I was even one year old, while I was still a baby in diapers. My first memory is still very clear and vivid to me. It was of Mom. (Which is probably no great surprise to anyone who is a regular reader of this blog)
I remember seeing Mom smiling at me with her white, freckled face which was as big as my entire body. It was surrounded by her dark, raven hair which I longed to grab so I could pull her closer to me. She was making blowing noises and motions on my tummy with her lips and I felt completely happy and content. Very simple. But so are babies.
Thinking about who Mom and I each later became, that these would be the first events that made an impact on us is understandable. Mom's life was all about loving Jesus and demonstrating that to others. And the big foundation of my life was Mom. My greatest joy was to watch her spend her life loving "Baby" Jesus.
