Around my neck, ever since Sunday, I have worn a "new" piece of jewelry. I normally don't wear jewelry other than my wedding band so this in itself is unusual for me. But this is something a bit special for me.
Back when I was short, probably close to my daughter Charis' age, when we were at church, my parents needed some way of entertaining us kids while the "boring" stuff of the main church service went on. In my later years, I learned the joy of drawing, folding origami, and just plain reading to occupy myself but early on, that just didn't hold my interest.
I distinctly remember, on multiple occasions, that my mother would take off her necklace and pendant she always wore and give it to me to play with. It was a round pendant with a picture of praying hands on it. There were words on the back side but, as a short person, I didn't care about it. What was cool was the way that the chain would pool and coil when you held the pendant in one hand and lowered the chain in the other. I would spend the full time of church just fascinated by the designs, patterns and sensations of this cool, silvery metal spilling over my fingers and curling up in my palm.
This is one of my fondest memories of my mother and it is still vivid in my mind, the little person looking up into her smiling eyes as she played with me with that chain and pendant. This one memory has brought back hundreds of others now from my growing up years. I recall the little pair of magnetic dogs that eventually replaced the pendant. I recall Mom showing me, during a wedding ceremony for a cousin, how to fold a pocket handkerchief in such a way as to make a hammock for a paper doll. I recall Mom leading the singing some Sunday mornings at church. I remember the times singing as a family in front of the congregation, not just from the pictures, but those "camera through your eyes" memories that are the REAL ones. Mom cooking in the kitchen while I played at the table. Mom making the hard boiled eggs for Easter Egg decoration and the general panic of making sure we didn't spill the permanent, home-made, vinegar-and-food-coloring dye on our clothes. I remember sitting on the back porch swing until all hours of the night hulling peas, lima beans, and soy beans.
And the memories go on.
This weekend I gave the church sermon for Easter Sunday about the celebration of Easter not being about the end of the "story" but being just the beginning as we can relate to the hope that sprang anew in the disciples as they broke through their grief and despair at losing their leader into the realization that there is more, much more to come. While I gave the sermon, I spoke those words to myself. Mom's life here has ended... but the story is not over yet.
So...today, I have this chain around my neck with a pendant on it with a pair of praying hands on one side. When I picked it out of my Mom's things Easter Sunday afternoon as we were going through some stuff, I finally stopped and read the words, for the first time, in 29 years, that a little 5 year old boy just wasn't interested in:
God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change;
the courage to change the things I can;
and the wisdom to know the difference.
Amen
I can remember my mother...outside of the hospital... and it is a VERY good thing.
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