Bailey Home Abounds with Thankfulness

Thank you notes scattered around around an Ashley-sized hole on the living room couch, joyful music filling the room, "thank you, Father" uttered over an evening meal-welcome to the Bailey's.

We live one day at a time, and as I've told many of you, prayer to prayer.  We thrive on the love you show us.  And all the while, our wounded hearts are healing. 

With the numbness beginning to wear off, twinges of grief are felt momentarily.  Pictures of her beautiful smile become harder to look at, and memories of her bring more sadness than joy.  We say a prayer, and push through these times, for we know that we have to feel this pain before we can overcome it. 

Today, a song came to me from seemingly nowhere.  The words poured forth from my lips, "How can I say thanks for the things you have done for me?"  These lyrics are the beginning to "My tribute."  It's a song I haven't thought of in years, it's rarely heard in church services, but as the words came so did a memory, rushing forth like the Amtrak that whizzes past our neighborhood at frightening speeds.

 I was eight years old, Mom was young, vibrant, and healthy.  She was playing the tune on our piano, a bit off key as it was usually in need of tuning.  I was singing (slightly off key to match the piano, of course) with as much strength as my growing lungs could muster.  These days are different. If you catch me singing alone, it's because I've thought I was alone, and somehow I've been fooled (how dare you). However, today was different, I wasn't singing alone, she was singing with me.  I pictured her, and all of her angel friends (she probably has at least a million by now), smiling as they lifted their song.  I now have a heavenly aspiration to join that choir one fine day. 

I have one final thought that brings me peace during this time.  When I become discouraged, when I let my self-doubt tell me how hard it will be to go on without her, I just remind myself of her strength.  I remind myself that somewhere within me is that very same stubbornness of hers that says, "I will not let this get me down."  At times when I feel so fragile, when I feel tossed by the wind of this storm, I think of her courage. 

I lost my Mom during the twenty-sixth year of my life, but I have an excellent model to follow.  She lost her dad at the same age.   

Of all the things she taught me, this may be the greatest lesson she ever gave.  She did not deny that she missed him, or that she always would.  She did not try to hide her sadness, we saw her cry. She did not claim to do it on her own, humility was her middle name.  In all things, she gave God the glory.  In her life, in her joys, in her pain, in her successes, in her failures, in her illness, and finally, in her death, she continued to praise Him.  An illustration of grace, a picture of love, this was my Mom.

"I will extol the Lord at all times; his praise will always be on my lips. My soul will boast in the Lord; let the afflicted hear and rejoice. Glorify the Lord with me; let us exalt his name together." Psalms 34: 1-3

"The righteous cry out; and the Lord hears them; he delivers them from all of their troubles. The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit;"  Psalms 34: 17-18

So much love