On August 12, 1995 my sweet Mother went home to be with Jesus.  The cancer had racked her body and made her too weak too speak. It had spread and devoured her flesh, but her soul belonged to Christ Jesus.  He himself said, "...I give unto them eternal life; and they shall never perish, neither shall any man pluck them out of my hand." (John 10:28).  This was what kept her going.

I never really understood Mother's faith. Barely out of my teens, I was a nominal Christian, merely a churchgoer. Her Christian life consisted of  much more than a habitual appointment on Sundays and Wednesdays. She carried on with grace that I certainly didn't possess.

There are so many memories of Mom's last days. Friends' kindnesses, heart breaking goodbyes, last smiles.  But now, to me at least,  it is her faithfulness that stands out. When my faith crumpled, hers was sure.  I didn't think about her faith or mine much at all for the next couple of years. My grief swallowed me and I still had a lot of growing up to do. Eventually though, I began to re-think my relationship with God.

It was my husband's growing faith and the preaching of a faithful  minister that triggered the change in my spiritual life. However, I didn't come quietly. I argued, I resisted,  I resented inferences that I needed help beyond myself.  I didn't like one bit the truth that finally became irresistable.   The casual Christianity I'd adopted began to be replaced by a real, living  faith in the real, living Son of God.  The teachings from the Bible seemed to explode with greater urgency and clarity than ever before.  The gentle example of a loving husband, the sound reasoning and clear teaching from Scripture by a faithful pastor, and the constant reaching out by God the Holy Spirit won in the end.

I don't think I'll ever be as strong as Mom was. But at last the source of her faith is clear---the Jesus of the Bible, the resurrected Savior.  Of all the gifts she gave me, an introduction to Him is the best and most lasting.