“Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.” —Matthew 5:4
Our entire family is now in Mercedes for my mother’s memorial service.
She would have been 94 next weekend although she didn’t talk much about her age saying, “People pigeonhole you when they find out how old you are.” That may be true, but it is the contention in our family that Bobbie Jones was always the poster child for her particular accumulation of years.
For nearly all her life she was healthy, active, busy, engaged, involved, interested, inquisitive, intelligent, generous, positive, supportive, encouraging, optimistic, wildly funny, artistic and did I say good-looking? This picture is from the church directory when she was 85!
So we gather for her memorial, and that is where David and I will be on Sunday. (Missy graciously agreed to step in for me preaching-wise, and for those who have not heard her preach, this is an extra opportunity for a terrific sermon. One of the (many) reasons we are blessed to have Missy appointed to TUMC is her strong pulpit skills.)
I had a hard time choosing a picture to share. So many great ones with grandkids clustered around, or extended family or friends. I know that is how mother often defined herself—one attached to a whole—but I settled on this, so you can see how beautiful she is on her own.
I credit the good that has come to me to the amazing grace of being born to my particular parents, and my spiritual role model has been my mother. She joined the Methodist Church when she was pregnant with me but pushed my horizons far beyond church doctrine. She rooted me in love for tradition, as well as personal responsibility for individual spiritual practice to keep me in touch with the Divine. She modeled faithful adherence to prayer, meditation, introspection through attention to dreams, study, and disciplined spiritual growth.
In other words, instead of wishing she were more compassionate, my mother took steps to develop compassion . . . she modeled the discipline of discipleship.
Bobbie Dunson Jones is through with her labors, but not through “working on” me yet, thank God. Please say a prayer for all who mourn my mother this weekend. We will be comforted thinking of you, and God knows where to find us all—and hold us together in love.
See you soon in church,