For as long as I can remember, my Mom would get up at 6 every morning. She would make a pot of coffee, bring my Dad (and me when I was old enough) a mug in bed, start breakfast and then sit in the living room with her coffee and start her day with God. (Yes, I know I was a spoiled girl. She also strained the pulp out of my fresh-squeezed orange juice!)
Breakfast was an event in our home. We were expected to be at the table at 7 a.m. Before we came to the table our beds had to be made and our rooms fairly tidy. We always ate a hot breakfast together (my Mom made amazing breakfasts) and then we had family devotions. Without fail, this was how we started our day. We do the same in our home today (although the breakfasts are not as good!)
Sixteen years ago today, my Mom followed her normal habit of rising early to start her day with God. Only this time, she got to really be with Him. Early in the morning on April 26, my Mom went home to be with Jesus.
I still miss her. It's not so sharp as before. There are whole parts of my life that I have lived without her at all. Even though I would have loved for her to be part of that, she can't. So I've learned to live life without her daily influence.
But she echoes in my heart and mind still. I feel her in my soul. She didn't believe that she would be able to see me from Heaven. She believed that Heaven would be focused on God, and that it would be impossible to see only the good on earth and not the bad too, so she didn't think she would see anything.
Either way, she is woven into the fabric of my soul.
I love you Mom.