I Love to Tell The Story

Ten years ago today my mom died, peacefully in rest, after a 13 month battle with Leukemia. She was around every single day for twenty years--teaching us, playing with us, reading to us, cooking for us, carting us around, passing on age-old traditions to us, disciplining us (yes, even I required the occasional whooping), and generally taking care of our every need with all the grace (and the occasional meltdowns) expected of a mother of 4. Through it all, her faith in the Lord was evident, unwavering, and contagious.

Ten years have passed, ten full years that have included a college degree, a graduate degree, a wedding, several big vacations, a career decision, 7 moves, a purchased home, a son, a daughter, and much more. My mom's legacy is still on so many areas of the lives of those who knew her. I got her name (Sue is my middle name), her blond hair, her wide cheekbones, her organizational skills, her plethora of moles, and her love of casseroles.

Since there's no way to adequately sum up a life like hers, I will limit this by sharing just a memory. She loved music, especially singing. She knew she didn't have a solo voice, but she nonetheless loved to sing harmony in the church choir, and truly appreciated the old "hymns of the faith." At her funeral, somewhere in the neighborhood of 800 people triumphantly sang Crown Him With Many Crowns. My dad, who was also battling Leukemia at the same time, had gotten a day-pass from the hospital to attend the funeral; he was bald and had to wear a face mask. He ripped his mask off and stood up (it was a scene I don't think many have forgotten), and he led the congregation in the 2nd verse:

Crown him the Lord of life, triumphant o'er the grave!
Who rose victorious from the strife for those he came to save.
His glories now we sing, who died and reigns on high.
He died, eternal life to bring, and lives that death may die.

It was an awesome song, absolutely, and she would have joined in loudly. Her favorite hymn was a little more unassuming, a little less well-known, and a bit more personal, however.

I love to tell the story of unseen things above,
of Jesus and his glory, of Jesus and his love...
And when, in scenes of glory, I sing the new, new song,
'twill be the old, old story that I have loved so long.

My mom would have enjoyed being part of these last ten years, and she'd most definitely be proud. But if you ask me if I think she's been watching me all this time? Heck no. She's singing in the heavenly choir, and her eyes are on Jesus.