Gifts of the Summer

          What gifts of God came your way this summer?

          Readers who know that my family's summer was spent in caring for, and then grieving together for the loss of my mother, Tillie, might be surprised to hear me speak of the gifts that came to me during the summer.

          It was truly one of the hardest periods of our lives, as mom's health declined rapidly due to brain cancer, and she needed increasing amounts of care. It is not something I would have chosen for her, for me, for my family. But in the midst of it there were gifts, only some of which I have space to share here.

          There were the many who came as professional caregivers during those weeks-through the Visiting Nurses and the Hospice program and Council on Aging, health aides and homemakers, including three who spent numerous nights watching and caring for mom while we slept (I called them our "ladies of the night"). There are truly wonderful people doing the Spirit's work in little-recognized and low-paying occupations.

          There were the caring folks connected with Brewster Baptist Church, clergy, retired clergy, and members who came, visited and prayed, and brought food.

          There was the constant presence of the love and prayers of our Burlington church family. Your cards and notes and calls; your beautiful basket of flowers at the visiting hours and then at the graveside; and the many of you who traveled the two hours on a rainy Saturday to come to the memorial service in Brewster-a sign of this church's steadfast love which goes beyond words.

          There was growing closer to my father and sister even as mom was slipping away.

          And there was music. Yes. Music which my mother loved and taught. Music when a couple from Scottish clan friendship came and played on pipes and fiddle. Music when granddaughter Anne suggested that mom might like to sing a couple hymns after supper one night-they included "The Lord's My Shepherd" and "Joyful, Joyful, We Adore Thee"-and even though she was hardly speaking at that point, she sang with us all the words to all the verses from memory. And music when a harp teacher from down the road came played for mom in the bedroom, bringing a smile and peace to her face, on what turned out to be the day before she died.

          It was a time of anguish. But it was also a summer of gifts. Is this how God plants the seeds which become the green shoots of hope that grow beyond the time of saying goodbye? The evidence for our resurrection faith?

          I hope it was a summer of gifts for you. Not in such a context of loss, but in the knowledge of the gracious love of God.

Rod