Missing Mommy

 
This morning I came across this wonderful statement:

Man's conscious influence, when he is on dress-parade, when he is posing to impress those around him,--is woefully small. But his unconscious influence, the silent, subtle radiation of his personality, the effect of his words and acts, the trifles he never considers,—is tremendous… Every man has an atmosphere which is affecting every other. So silent and unconsciously is this influence working, that man may forget that it exists…
…In all Nature the wonders of the "seen" are dwarfed into insignificance when compared with the majesty and glory of the unseen…
Into the hands of every individual is given a marvellous power for good or for evil,—the silent, unconscious, unseen influence of his life.
[William George Jordan, The Power of Personal Influence, The Majesty of Calmness, pp.18&19]

This statement brought tears to my eyes this morning as I have been thinking a lot lately of my mother. Christmas always brings a mixed bag of emotions for me as it seems to magnify what I’m already feeling. The beautifully decorated tree, the music, the shopping for gifts, the Christmas Eves, all things my mother loved. Doing these things without her these past 17 years has been really hard. Even now.

But it’s funny, it’s not that I’m sad because she doesn’t exist anymore, because I know she does. And I’m not sad because I can’t remember her, because I do. I remember every little detail about some things. There are no regrets to our relationship, no bad memories. The sadness comes from just missing her presence, the separation. It sucks.

Yet, I feel her with me all the time. Some days more than others, but she’s there. How is that possible for love ties to reach across death and still touch us, motivate us and cheer us? How is it that some people can touch us so profoundly that just the memory of them can give us courage?

I don’t know all the rules of the afterlife, but the memory and the influence of my mother is a sustaining thing. And what an influence she had. In her small corner of the world she made a difference through her teaching, her loving, her example, her church service. She was everything that was beautiful and good and fine.

When I teach a lesson, her influence is there. I remember how she taught with power and clarity and the price she paid in preparation. When I struggle with a family relationship I remember how quick she was to apologize. When I want to whine and kick and scream because I have a bad cold, I remember her patience in suffering.

She was a righteous example, an incredible influence, my inspiration.

Again, some words by the Jordan guy:

To make our influence felt we must live our faith, we must practice what we believe…
…No individual is so insignificant as to be without influence…We should ever let our influence filter through human love and sympathy. We should not be merely an influence, — we should be an inspiration. By our very presence we should be a tower of strength to the hungering human souls around us. [The Majesty of Calmness, pp. 22&23]

My mother. How I love and miss her.
She’s the voice in my head reminding me that I can do better and the whispering in my heart that no matter how badly I screw up, I’m loved.
Simply conjuring up her face in my mind brings strength.
Now that’s some influence.