A couple of weeks ago I attended the funeral of a colleague. Her death was unexpected at the young age of 54. Listening to her husband tell the story of how they met, I found myself laughing as he recalled memories of hot rods and Southern California nights.
And then her daughter stood to speak – I was almost undone.
One of my great fears as a momma is that I will pass before my children are grown; before I see them settled in lives of their own. But the other day, while sitting in that funeral home, I started to think about what my girls would say about me when I do die.
“Momma loved Jesus.”
“Momma loved Daddy.”
“Momma loved us.”
These are the things I hope they would say. I hope they know without a doubt that their momma loved Jesus with all of her heart. I hope they see in my actions and words just how much I loved their daddy and I hope they recall the embrace of my arms and the whispered “I love yous” long past day they can sit on my lap as I rock them at night.
I don’t want them to remember the tired and cranky momma with a short word for their tender heart.
I want them to remember the momma that was the builder of dreams and confidence; the encourager that reminded them every night that God created them for a unique purpose and that they should not settle for anything less than His best.
I don’t want them to remember the mom more focused on the cleanliness of the room than the state of their heart.
I want them to remember the mom that believed in serving others; the mom willing to love on and do life with all of His people with a joyful heart.
I don’t want them to remember the mom that saw picking up dirty socks and undies while tripping over stray Legos as somebody else’s responsibility.
Mommas, in all of this I am convicted. The only way my children are going to have the memories I want them to have is if I live the kind of life that lends itself to them.
We will have “off” days; but am I as purposeful with my words and actions as I could be? As I am with my colleagues or those littles I lead on Sunday morning? I don’t have to think long about my answers – I know the truth.
But today is a new day and there is time to do and say a new thing.
There is time for new memories.