Tribute to My Mother

It is a sad truth of fallen humanity that physical beauty fades over time. The years are especially cruel to the looks of most women.

Not so in my family. My mother has defied time and grown more beautiful with age.          

I noticed this a few years ago, and used to think this was just my perception of her changing. My memories of her are much happier now than they were in my dark years. (Good memories of anyone were rare then.) Good memories of a person tend to influence one's views of other characteristics, as well, including physical beauty.

But then I went looking through some pictures of her in our early years. And it is clear she has grown in beauty over time. 

The explanation for her defiance of age is simple. Good people are beautiful; goodness is itself attractive. And my mother has grown more and more holy as the years have passed.   
She has always been zealous for God and for her neighbor; always prepare to give of herself whenever necessary.

Anyone who knows anything about my mother knows that she is a firestorm of activity (I used to call her Fire Mommy because she was so active), the epitome of a Type A choleric. Her name literally translates to peace – which she often pokes fun at herself for, because is a very strong-willed woman who has no problem letting others know what is on her mind and doing things other people fear to do. 

But over the years, she has tempered her zeal with understanding; she has grown calmer, more patient, more loving. Her judgment of when and how to intervene and discuss important matters with others has become acute. 

She is still a zealous servant of others, without regard for her own comfort. She is still willing to sacrifice herself for others to almost absurd degrees, making herself (at times, quite literally) sick with worry for others. To take one example: she drove 10+ hours (round trip) through terrible traffic on a weekday - just to bring me my car which was left in the shop over the weekend. 

She still drives me nuts on occasion. She loads me (and my siblings) down with all sorts of things to take with me when I visit the family. She still predicts that will lose to me in Scrabble games while she is winning by thirty points. She still quickly offers help to anyone any everyone but rarely accepts assistance. 
And I fear for her; she takes on so much that at some point she may break down under the weight of her service.

But she loves with her whole heart, soul, mind, and strength, and constantly displays that love. And Christian love truly does conquer even the hardest of hearts – including mine.

My love for her is but an imperfect shadow of hers for me. God grant mine for her be a shadow of what hers is for me.