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What's it like? Tragedies to Joy
When my brothers and I were growing up, our parents taught and demonstrated love all around us. In our formative years, Dad was pastor of about six churches (consecutively) and Mom was a stay-at-home mom. When we all became school-aged, Mom was also Dad’s administrative assistant. Our diversified family backgrounds afforded us some valuable life lessons. There were many in our extended families who were very light to very dark in skin color (and some made the distinction very clear with their attitudes). We were Christian, and some were not. Some were smokers and drinkers, and many displayed a variety of “questionable” lifestyles… But, in spite of the differences in our beliefs and ways of life, our parents taught us to love everybody – no matter the circumstance. “Judge not, that ye be not judged,” Dad would remind us. We watched and absorbed the nurturing and respect that our parents showed toward one another, as well as to each of us – and to others. They had such a forgiving spirit, especially to those who would wish them harm… Spoiled? YES, we were! But in spite of the “spoiling,” they taught us to make our own way – and to CARE for others. Mom and Dad worked hard to assure our good education, and they taught us great work ethics. All along, we watched Dad cherish his “dear mother.” In later years we watched Mom become the nurturing personal care giver for her mom. My brothers both turned out to be pretty darn good husbands and fathers themselves – following Dad’s example. Soon after I married, my husband was paralyzed in a near-fatal accident. It was my choice to take care of him at home for 18 years until he passed away. Mom and Dad would “marvel” over my dedication to my husband, and I had to remind them that THEY taught me no other way! I was following that “golden rule” that they often reminded us of – to do unto others… People often asked me why or how; my answer was simply that I did nothing without the help of my Heavenly Father. And why not? But in the same year, before my husband died, my dear daddy died… So now, there was just the two of us – me and precious Mommy. What a JOY it was taking care of Mom! She was my “road dog!” My side-kick! My confidant! My Spiritual advisor! My friend! She enjoyed going – and we went everywhere we possibly could – church meetings, reunions, weddings, concerts, the symphony, funerals. And then, I found I had to witness hers: God had chosen to take my friend away from me. Sad days try to overtake me sometimes, as I reflect on memories of my father, my husband, and my mother. But God reminds me of the many joyous years I spent with each of them – and I can smile. They each used to say, “God has been good to me…” and I must echo their sentiment. Mom would say, “Ditto!” God always knows what we need even when we don’t know ourselves. I’m grateful as I look back over my life. I can truly say the good has outweighed the bad. AND I’ve learned that there are important lessons even in the so-called “bad.” I can see clearly how things in my past have prepared me for the present and the future. I’m grateful that God has seen fit to give me a new husband with which to share a new and interesting life. To God be the glory – great things He has done.
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