I'm ok....really!

My mother was a creative lady.  She was a seamstress, she could embroider, she could cross-stitch, knit, crochet, sew, etc.  If it was possible with thread, glue, flower arranging, anything, she could do it.  And do it well.  The past few months, I have been helping my father clean out my mom's sewing room and storage room that housed all the supplies she used for her wedding and floral business, among 65 years of sewing supplies, patterns and various bric-a-brac.  This may sound very simple on the surface, but let me explain a few things to you.   My mother never did anything half way.  If there was a sale on something she didn't buy one, she bought a gross.  She was very frugal when did these things, because, in her mind, all of these would someday have a purpose and possibly be sold or given to a lucky individual.  It all made sense to her.   She also liked to decorate for holidays.  Let's put it his way, if there had been a store for decorations for even Arbor day, she would have had them.   Not putting my mom down here, I can feel her nodding and smiling to this already. 

My point to all this, is that going through all my mother's things hasn't been the easiest thing in the world.   I spent three days at my dad's two weeks ago, just for this purpose.  While he did things outside, I had my computer set up watching old DVD's and happily was sorting into boxes my mom's lifetime of work and supplies.  I say happily, because, as you know if you've read any of my posts, I love organizing things.  So I  was happier than a pig in...well you know. 

But as I was doing this, I ran across little things that made me pause.  The room still smells like my mom and all the memories I have of her toiling away at things for people and myself.   There was the little pin cushion I bought her when I was about 10 for mother's day.  There was the seam ripper I had used countless times to rip out sewing I had started.   The gene for all this craftiness did not pass along to me!  As I found these things, I got more and more sad.  I started to think about the fact my mom was gone and I would never see her again on this side of eternity.   Then the doubts crept it.   Satan likes to give us these to torment us.  Yes, folks, Satan is real.  Was my mom really ok?   Was she alive with God, or down at the bottom of that pit in the cemetary I had just visited the day before.   As I started to tear up and get into a huge pity party, my mom reached down from Heaven and gave me a proverbial kick in the rear.  As I dumped out what seemed like the 100th drawer of sewing thread, I found a piece of paper, about 4 inches square, with words typed on it.   Why was this here?  I thought it was another pattern piece or directions to something, but to my surprise, shock and delight, this is what it said."

"Just think of stepping on shore, and finding it heaven,
of taking hold of a hand, and finding it God's hand,
of breathing new air and finding it celestial air,
of feeling invigorated and finding it immortality,
of passing from storm and tempest to an unknown calm,
of waking up and finding it Home!"

Now I'm not making this up.  This little piece of paper, at the bottom of a drawer of bobbins and thread, could easily have been thrown away years ago.  Why was it there exactly when I needed it be there?  You can all think what you like, but I think my mother was talking to me through God himself.  We don't need burning bushes to have faith, but this was burning enough for me.  For those of you that know what my mom went through in her life and her eventual death, this was like she was standing there saying this to me.  Saying, "It's ok, Deb.  I'm really happy now.  I'm ok, really."  Then a sigh like she used too when I would ask her for the 10th time if she was ok, "Yes REALLY!"

Of course the tears came flowing then.  I still have that little piece of paper.  I plan to laminate it.  It's never leaving my side again.