There are no words. I have been robbed. They flowed like a stream yesterday and then the news came through the telephone.
“Jeannie, mom passed away last night at 9:40 pm”. My dad had been taking care of his wife who battled cancer for years. The last days were the hardest. She traveled from home to nursing home and yesterday they transported her to hospice. The conversation continued, “The minister made it just in time.” Still no tears flowed. I was at peace knowing God had called her home. Finally my voice broke free “Take care of yourself dad.” In that brief moment we understood each other. The pain was there. The dam had been broken.
Mom was the first person who told me I had a gift to write. I think she is the only one to tell me besides my husband. (In fairness, I have been reaching out to various writing groups and joining in the conversation and a few can see sparks. There are certainly no flames. Not yet!) She encouraged me to pick up a pen and tell my story. I read many authors and compare my words and I pale in comparison to Henry James, Flannery O’Connor, or Truman Capote, but then I know that I do it because I have stories locked up inside that are exclusively mine. They show my hopes, dreams and faith in the Lord Jesus Christ. I do it to express the love God has for this world.
Thank you mom for your encouragement. For seeing a diamond in the rough. Writing is a craft and it needs to be honed and pruned. In memory of you, if I ever publish a book, you will be at the top of the list of those who believed. Peace!