Remembering my Mom

My Mom died in March at the age of 82. I, my wife, my sister and her husband were at her bedside when she died. It was a difficult thing to do, but I am glad I was there. After she died we sat there in the hospital room with her body while we waited for the funeral home to show up. As I waited I looked at that dead body, but my thoughts went back to earlier, happy years. I remembered the times she held me when I was small. I tried to imagine my earliest years when she would have fed me with a small spoon in her hand, trying to get me to eat strained peas, or some such baby food. I remembered her in the kitchen, making cookies and cinnamon rolls and cake. I remember her bandaging my scraped knees and elbows. I was never really close to my Mom, the way my sisters were, but now that she is gone I miss her very much. She was a believer. She trusted in Jesus Christ alone for her ultimate salvation. She believed in . . ."the forgiveness of sins, the resurrection of the body, and the life everlasting." I look forward to seeing her again!