100 years

One hundred years ago today, my mom was born into this world. She didn’t make it to her 100th birthday. She went to heaven after 98 1/2 years here. But she was pretty close!

To look back at one hundred years of history and to actually live those years seems almost daunting. And surreal. When I was a kid, I used to fear losing her while I was young. Longevity didn’t run in our family. Her dad died in his sixties as did her sister, and her mom was in her late seventies. So 98 1/2 was unheard of. And yet, she has two living cousins that might actually make it to the age she didn’t quite meet – both in their late 90s right now.

In her lifetime, I can barely touch the surface of the things she witnessed. She lived through the Great Depression, the Roaring ’20’s, WWII and the Holocaust, the Cold War, the Cuban Revolution, the Korean War, the Vietnam War, the Six-Day War, Persian Gulf War, the war in Afghanistan, 9-11, and more.

She learned to drive on a Model-A Ford, often road a street car to get places, had her first child while her husband was fighting in WWII, lived in a small house in Detroit until her dad died, then moved with her family to the suburbs.

She worked in a bank to help pay the bills, raised three children, was involved in her church, and moved about seven times during her long life. She was married to my dad for nearly 70 years except he graduated to heaven five months before their 70th anniversary.

My mom never tired of learning no matter how old she got. She used a computer until her last days, writing emails to friends and family. She played “scrabble” using a Kindle, though she refused to read books on it. She did 1000 piece puzzles and read voraciously until reading wasn’t quite as enjoyable to her as it had been. When I was growing up, she could often be found with a spoon in one hand and a book in the other, stirring something on the stove.

When she died in 2022, she had outlived her husband and only son. Only after her death did I realize how much she loved people and her Lord. I inherited her Bibles after she was gone and flipped through every page to see the notes she’d written and the verses she’d underlined. Her faith was strong, and I love knowing that even more now than I did when we used to talk about Jesus.

Just recently, I was going through a bag of papers that were in the to-be-shredded pile, but I always look at each thing before shredding to be sure I should. I’m very glad I did because one bag contained a stack of her notes that I hadn’t seen before. Answers to questions about her life. Most of those things I knew, but not all. For instance, her favorite Bible verse was Psalm 19:14:

“Let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart
    be acceptable in your sight,
    O Lord, my rock and my redeemer.”

To say I miss her would be truth. But I don’t wish her back because she is with the One I long to see. Jesus. She is privy to the unseen realm I can only imagine based on what I read in Scripture. She is reunited with my dad and brother and so many other friends and family. And I’m sure she’ll be waiting when the rest of us join her there.

I don’t consider writing a tribute for every birthday that passes for my parents or others I love, but it was hard to pass up a century milestone, even though she didn’t quite make it here. She left a legacy of faith that I hope all of her family members will remember and cherish and discover for themselves if they don’t yet share that. She prayed for each one of us every day, and I know she wants to see all of us there in heaven one day.

Happy Birthday, Mama. You are missed. You are loved.