I am overwhelmed with gratitude by the outpouring of love, support, and prayers for my mother and family this past week. Mom died early this morning, and she went peacefully, with her closest, lifelong friend at her side. My most recent prayer for her, at least, was answered. Thank you, God.
On the acknowledgements page of a recent commentary, John Goldingay wrote about his wife who died not long before the book’s publication. He spoke the words that are on my heart this morning:
I thank God for her, and I am glad for her sake, though not for mine, that she can now sleep till resurrection day.
Although Mom saw Elvis Presley in Atlanta back in 1957 when seeing Elvis really meant something, she and I mostly went our separate ways when it came to music. She was country when country wasn’t cool. And if you’re old enough to get that reference, you can imagine how square I thought country music was back then.
Still, in 1981, we completely agreed that Simon and Garfunkel’s Central Park concert, broadcast live on HBO, was awesome. Through tears, I dedicate this song to her.