« Coffee Cup Art | Main | A Song For Counselors, Formal or Informal »
November 28, 2007
Three Rosebushes, One Rose
I was talking to my friend Tanya the other day and told her that I could not remember whether my mother was a sensitive person when it came to figuring out how people might be feeling and ministering to their emotional needs or not. I do know that she certainly quickly came to know what sort of physical needs that people had, and if it was within her power to meet them in a way that would be beneficial to the person, she would readily do it, often sacrifically.
That does not have much to do with the picture below, but it was interesting to me, nonetheless, to think about. This picture was taken I think at Christmas in 1983 when my brother Virgil was visiting from America. We each gave my mother a rosebush for Christmas, which is what she really wanted. OK, and my mother did have her unconventional theories. She brought some placentas home from the hospital and, American Indian fashion (only they used dead fish with corn), had our gardener place them next to the roots of bushes as he planted them. She must have either read that it was a tradition in some place or just thought scientifically that it would work as fertilizer. It is a bit weird to write that out, but it was not nearly as weird as it seems, if you knew my mother.
Incidently, after she died she received an award from the Pakistani government for her service to the country in delivering over a thousand babies, or something like that. At any rate, she delivered a lot of babies and stepped out when she was assisting in the OR to give her own blood when a patients relatives weren't being cooperative and would often pay patients bills on her own and tried to hook up couples who wanted babies with babies who needed parents and a dozen other things.
I was talking to my Aunt Carolyn, my mom's sister-in-law, the other day at Thanksgiving, that is hard to talk to people about a relative who was rather extraordinary, because they will be, yeah, right, she was your mother. I am not even sure why I am doing this blog post at this time, other than Thanksgiving is the time when I miss my mother the most, with Christmas being a close second. Well, perhaps it is to let you vicariously know, even if only a very little, a rather extraordinary person who just happened to be my mother.
Oh, and a little note on our attire. I don't think that stain on Adrian's oh-so-sexily-opened shirt is a curry stain from the meatball or chicken curry we inavariably would have eaten that day, but rather a flaw in the photograph. Yeah, I'd like to show this picture to his congregation. Stud pastor. Oh, and my shirt, with the poofy sleeves and long collar? I loved that shirt. I bet I could get some money for that shirt at Rag-o-Rama.
Ache for Eternity | By jackdas | 1:12 AM
Trackback Pings
TrackBack URL for this entry:
http://stlouisblogs.org/mt/mt-tb.cgi/1068
Comments
Thanks for sharing Neil. I'll be praying for your heart this season. So often, people assume it is a season bubbling with joy, but for so many it’s just as much a time of sorrow.
Jesus, thank you for joy even in sorrow. Please show us what this looks like...feels like.
P.S. We may be at house church depending on when Jacob and I get back from Donna’s son’s visitation.
Posted by: Heidi Vincent at November 28, 2007 8:44 AM
Your mother sounds like a rare gem- that's a lovely picture of you all together. I wonder if she gets to watch your life from heaven. Prayers for you, Neil.
Posted by: Heidi H. at November 28, 2007 11:01 AM
thanks for sharing. it was neat to learn a little bit about your mother. the picture is also great.
Posted by: meg n. at November 28, 2007 11:53 PM
Wonderful to hear about your mother... and to see your fluffy shirt : )
Posted by: Jenny Fox Shain at November 30, 2007 9:58 PM
