the picture of my mother

I see it when I look in the mirror, when I am polishing silver (okay, when I'm drying flatware) and I notice my reflection, even, sometimes when I catch myself in a shadow.  I see it, and the question always comes:

When did I turn into my mother?

I used to swear it would never happen.  I tried my best not to imitate her.  Like most of you, I thought my mom was hopelessly behind the times and not someone to emulate.

Unfortunately, I didn't count on genetics.

Everyone tells me I look just like her.  These days, even I see it.  Or I should say that I look as much like her as a person five inches taller can look.  I have her hair, her eyes, her nose, her mouth.  I look in the mirror and see her staring back at me, sometimes with a smile, often with mouth slightly downturned--neither one of us smile naturally.

I know from experience that I have her anger, her temper.  I have discovered that I also have her gift for words.  We both sing.  But the ways in which I am most like my mother are myriad and small.

I set my arms on my hips when angry.  There she is!  Finger goes up to emphasize my point--that's her! I hear myself saying "Mark my words" and wish I could take them back.  Too late--my mother has spoken.

Not that I mind.  My mother was a great woman, and in my mind, she becomes greater every day. I'm thankful for the gifts she's given me--gifts like thoughtful speech, wisdom, and a desire to become ever closer to the Lord.  I look forward to that day when I will finally see her again, get to put my arms around her and tell her how much I love her.  I know that she knows, but it will be a blessing to finally see her respond and give me that hug, that squeeze of the hand that I've been missing all these years.

I lost my mom when I was fifteen.  This was a lifetime ago.

But even though my mom is gone, she's certainly not forgotten. All I have to do to remember is look in a mirror.

Thank you Mom.  I love you, too!