My mother, who has been slowly, but surely losing her physical abilities
wrote something the other day that was so encouraging to my sister and I.
She essentially said what the psalmist did in Psalm 71:14.
“But I will hope continually and will praise you yet more and more.”
Over the years Mom became more vocal in her praise of her savior. She
continues to do that.
When my mother was a young bride, and later a busy pastor’s wife
and mother to a varying multitude of children, she faithfully wrote
every week to both sets of my grandparents. (I wish I had those letters
now, as I’m sure there was some interesting family history in them).
She continued that as we children grew up and left home.
The last few years Mom graduated to e-mail and she sent them out weekly
to family, extended family and friends. Mom cared about all the
people she wrote to, but additionally she seemed to have felt a burden
to help us maintain connection with each other.
Most of Mom’s e-mails, and letters, notes, and birthday cards started with an expression of thanksgiving and praise, and closed with a blessing. I’ve missed those messages the last few months.
In Savannah, this morning, our guest minister, Ed Ayers, used an acrostic
for hope that I had never before heard. I think Mom will agree with me, and like
“Hope, for the Christian, is how our pilgrimage ends.”
How Our Pilgrimage Ends