The Woman Who Taught Me To Pray

Of all the women in my life, my mother stands alone as the one who truly modeled how to lead with faith. Her influence touched not only her daughters and husband but also reached through generations to her grandchildren, great-grandchildren, and anyone fortunate enough to know her.

Until her passing in 2008 at age ninety, she maintained her dignified routine: bi-weekly hair appointments, perfect makeup, fashionable dress, a properly made bed, and daily devotions. She read her Bible alongside the newspaper, watched the news on television, and never missed her nightly prayers. "I can still run circles around you girls," she'd remind us, always ready for an impromptu shopping trip.

Her high school romance with my father lasted thirty-six years until his death at fifty-five, and remarkably, she lived thirty-six more years afterward. Death held no fear for her because of a confidence rooted in her after her extraordinary near-death experience during kidney surgery. I was only three years old at the time, but she told me about it many times over the years that followed. Mother's heart stopped for several minutes during the surgery while they removed a large kidney stone and part of her kidney as well. In those moments between life and death, her experience was vivid and remained unchanged in her retelling. She described rising above her body, watching the medical team working frantically below, before being transported to witness heaven's pearly gates and beautiful streets of gold. This wasn't just a story for her – it was a defining moment that shaped her entire perspective on death.

Her faith showed in action: chasing a peeping Tom with a cast-iron skillet while Dad was away, caring for her troubled younger brother through his mental health struggles, and guiding her wayward sister to faith. During World War II, while my father served, tragedy struck when her three-month-old daughter died from whooping cough after being exposed to a neighbor's infected child. She also endured at least one miscarriage and delivered a full-term stillborn son. Through these trials, she nursed another daughter through serious heart complications after a simultaneous bout of measles, mumps, and rubella.

Later, when one of my sisters contracted polio, Mother defied the doctors who claimed my sister would never walk again. Her unwavering faith and determination led my sister to walk again and to have a whole life. Perhaps her most significant act of forgiveness was when she even fought to have my father's mother, who had once neglected her during a dangerous miscarriage, come live with us rather than be placed in a nursing home.

I struggle with grief now, but I still remember her wisdom:

Though she never remarried, she found companionship in her seventies with her boyfriend, Bob, but she refused to go beyond dating, even as he repeatedly proposed marriage. When cancer struck him, she became his caregiver. After his death, his obituary listed her as his "guardian angel," his family crediting her witness for his salvation.

She orchestrated every family holiday, refused to tolerate lingering anger, and lived by the following principle:

Through her faith in Jesus, she found peace and held onto the promise of reuniting with her children in heaven. For all her gentle spirit, we knew to tread carefully when her tongue poked out – it was her unmistakable warning sign that her patience was wearing thin, and wise children quickly changed their behavior.

Her laughter, Scripture quotes, and unwavering faith created a legacy that continues through generations. She showed us how to live, love, and lead with faith.

If she could hear me now, here’s what I would say, “I’m trying, Mom. Thank you for your example.”