For some of you who read this blog, you might have noticed my absence. It's been a while since I posted anything. The short version excuse is that my Mom died. It was semi-expected, but came as a shock. She had been ill for some time, but we never imagined that her death would be so soon - and so quick. I went home to be with her and Dad in the hospital, and 3 days later she was gone. I think my family is handling the loss as good as can be expected. Thank you - I know many of you have us in your prayers.
Here are some words I said at Mom's funeral:
There are always things you wish your parents didn’t give you, right?
From my mom, I inherited a love of sports that borders on obsession. Mom was a coach at heart and always loved athletics, but she was also a little too involved if you know what I mean. In Jr. High and High School for instance, I played tennis, and even though she knew nothing about tennis, she would tell me exactly what I was doing wrong or what I needed to do better to improve. One summer, after listening to one to many of her lessons, I banned her from my tournaments. After about the third tournament sitting in the car watching from a distance, she negotiated with me to let her go back up into the stands to watch my matches again ...only this time she wouldn’t say a word. You can probably guess how long that lasted.
It might surprise you, but I also inherited my temper from my Mother. Some of you can’t imagine Ann Whitmire even raising her voice - but I bet there are a few of you who have witnessed her temper once or twice. I can count on one hand the times I’ve seen my father lose his temper, but that wasn’t the case with Mom. She always joked that she was born a red head. Whenever I yell at the driver in front of me, or lose my temper with my kids - I gladly blame it on Mom.
But truthfully, most of the things my Mom gave me are good things and I am very thankful.
She was a gracious, giving, loving Mom. She often sacrificed so that Beth and I could have whatever we wanted. She took me to countless practices and games and always seemed to really want to be there - and “there” was wherever we were. She prayed for me and worried over me and other than her health issues, there’s not much that I would change about her even if I could.
But of all the gifts my mother gave me, two stand out:
First, she gave me her love. I can still hear her saying to me, “Charles, no matter what you might do, or whatever you become, I will always love you.” She said those words often, usually when I had goofed up and done something wrong, ...but for me - her love and the assurance of that love was a bedrock that I knew I could always count on. My self image and the person that I have become in large part was formed because my Mother wasn’t shy about telling me, and showing me, how much she loved me.
Speaking of love, my father and and my mom loved each other very much. I doubt either one of them remember what life was like before they were together. Mom fell in love with dad at first sight ...but it wasn’t in person. Dad was big into 4h and won a lot of awards. One award landed him in the local, Kress, paper. Mom took one look at him in his white tuxedo and black bow tie and told everyone who would listen, that was the man she would marry. They started dating in 7th grade and married seven years later - after graduating from college - Dad’s parents had said they had to wait just to make sure they both finished school - and thats what they did...
The second gift that my mother gave me was the understanding that I could have a relationship with God. From my earliest memories, I can remember seeing my mom reading her Bible. If I had a penny for every time she asked me, “have you had your quiet time today?” I’d be a rich man. Beth and I grew up knowing that not only did Mom love us, but God loved us even more. Somehow, she passed on her intimacy with the Lord to us. When I was 8, we had a revival at our church. I was pretty young, but the evangelist’s last message was something like “How hot Hell is...” and it definitely caught my attention. A few weeks later, I crawled out of bed, and knocked on mom and dad’s door. In the dark, I made my way to her side of the bed and asked, “Mom, am I going to heaven?” She waited a minute, probably trying to wake up, then she said “No ...but I can tell you how if you want.” There by the foot of the bed she told me about sin and what Christ had done for me on the cross, and we prayed for Jesus to come into my heart.
Mom had an intimacy and relationship with Christ that was something to admire. Its odd though, but she wasn’t raised in a home that went to church. Her father had a falling out with the local church so they never went, but they did send her to vacation Bible school, and one year, at about the age of six, she asked Jesus into her heart. She kept it a secret for years, but there was no doubting her faith.
Mom had the kind of faith that was hard to hide. She used to pick up kids on the way to school. It used to be so embarrassing. The car would be full already, but she would stop the car and invite some kid to get inside rather than walk. One day she noticed my frustration and asked me to stay in the car a second while everyone else went in. She had something to tell me - and I probably heard some form of this a million times growing up. She said, “Don’t you think if Jesus was walking to school he would want us to pick him up? Don’t you think we need to do what Jesus wants us to do, even if its a little uncomfortable for us?” She pretty much lived her life by that maxim. “Don’t you think we need to do what Jesus wants us to do, even if its a little uncomfortable for us?”
Even as she grew ill and feeble, her relationship and intimacy with Christ remained strong. Without fail, my Mom prayed for me every day. Prayer was one of her greatest strengths and she prayed for people, probably many of you in this room, every day.
No doubt, her biggest regret was that she never got to serve as a missionary. She really wanted to be a missionary herself, but when that didn’t work out ,she turned to Beth and I - maybe one of us would be a missionary! A few years ago on a visit to our house, they stayed through Sunday and went to church with us. After my message that morning, she came up and told me that God had finally given her “peace.” I offered that I wasn’t aware that she needed peace, but she insisted that God had finally given her peace. God had finally told her that it was okay that I wasn’t a missionary. Tommy, you’ll appreciate this... God had told her that a pastor was almost as good as a missionary ...and apparently that was good enough for her.
Thank you all for your love and affection. It has meant a great deal to Beth and I and my Father to have had you call or stop by to share your love for Mom. Your prayers, flowers, and thoughts have meant the world to us.
In Psalms there’s a little verse that I’ve used at a bunch of funerals. I think its pretty appropriate to use here today. It says, “Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of his saints.” Mom was truly one of his saints... Her death to us is hard and difficult - but to Him...she’s a whole lot closer now.
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