Four years ago, July 7, 2006, mom went to be with her beloved Jesus. I miss her terribly. She was a gift to me. I cherish the memories I have of her.
One of the most clearest memories I have of her was my first day of first grade. I was a shy and introverted little first grader. And if going to the first grade wasn't scary enough for me, I had to ride the bus all by myself. I don't remember much of what happened my first day, but what I do remember was my ride home.
I remember sitting alone on the bus. It was a LONG bus route for a first grader. I was one of the last ones off the bus. It was raining outside. We were riding along and then all of a sudden, I saw my dad standing outside our house, ready to pick me up, and the bus went driving on by! My heart sank! I thought to myself, "Doesn't the bus driver know where I live?" I felt tears welling up within me, but I didn't dare cry or say a word. I was too scared. At that moment, I wanted so bad to be with mom and dad and not be in situation I found myself. I don't know or remember how the bus driver figured out where I lived, but what seemed an eternity, the bus finally dropped me off at my house. Dad had the umbrella ready, and came out to meet me.
Once inside, mom was there to meet me too and I began to cry. I was so happy to be back with my parents. But what I remember was the comfort I felt when mom took me in her arms and rocked me back and forth in her Nicaraguan rocking chair as I continued to cry. She soothed my heart with her tender words of reassurance.
Even as I write this now, it brings tears to my eyes. I miss mom's comfort. Mom's just have a way to comfort their children, young or old.
But even as I long for mom's comfort along life's journey, God has continually reminded me that I have the Holy Spirit to comfort me. His comfort is gentle and loving. And for that, I am grateful.
