This
Sunday we will observe All Saints Sunday. The saints who went before us
laid the foundation on which we stand by responding to God's call and
allowing God to work in and through them. Each All Saints Day we can
honor all the saints by remembering and thanking God for a particular
saint who blessed and guided us.
This year I remember
and thank God for my mother. I do not recall a single theological
conversation with my mother. Although intelligent, she did not attend
school after the third grade and humbly avoided conversations for which
she felt unqualified. Shame on me for failing to invite those chats. Nor
did she encourage me to enter ordained ministry, but she supported my
decision. Her blessings came in her actions.
On Sunday morning
mother and I went to church. Always. Dad was not antagonistic toward
this, but did not participate. On a Sunday morning a week after I
received my driver's permit, we awakened to a heavy blanket of snow atop
a thin sheet of ice. Mother did not drive in the snow and dad was at
work, so she handed me the keys. Along the way I hit a slick spot where
the road tilted down and away from center. Our car slowly slid sideways
and gently collided with a telephone pole. Bracing for what would come
next, I glanced in the rear view mirror in time to watch a police
cruiser slide into us with greater velocity and significantly damage the
bumper, tail lights, and trunk of our Impala. Mother took all of this
in stride and seemed oddly calm. As the police officer slowly completed
his accident report, however, she looked at her watch, demanded his
attention, and said, "Do we have to do this now? We need to get to
church!" We soon left the scene and made it in time for worship. Mother
taught me the importance of worship.
For thirty
consecutive years, mother taught the four year old Sunday School Class.
I've always admired her longevity, but now that I know a little more
about four year olds, I admire even more her sheer grit. When mother
committed herself, she did so absolutely. God alone knows how many
people remember the Bible stories and moral lessons she taught them. She
completed more "sermons" than I'll ever imagine.
I became an avid
reader at an early age. When I found worship tedious, mother allowed me
to read the book I brought with me. That probably insulted some. One
woman clearly took issue and asked with an unfriendly tone, "Are you
aware than your son was reading during the service?" Mother replied, "He
sings the hymns, stays quiet during prayer, and takes communion. I
think that's enough." She considered participating with the community
more important than pretending to understand all that transpired.
When her
grandchildren came along, mother wished that they lived closer to her,
but visited often and made certain that her stay included Sunday, which
included worship. She sat proudly with her granddaughters, helped them
to use the hymnal, had activities to engage them when they grew
restless, and helped God speak to them through the community and her
love.
Mother
did not debate theology with me, but her persistent practice of her
faith has played a part in every ministry to which God has called me.
Now that she has joined that great cloud of witnesses surrounding us,
sharing her story and trying to be for others what she was for me are
the best ways to thank her and give thanks for her.
Happy All Saints Day,
LP
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