For several years my family lived in Springfield, Missouri in the Ozark Mountains. In the fall of the year the trees are beautiful and I discovered that this was my favorite time of year. One day, when I was a young adult, mother and I were driving by a large cemetery that was located about a mile from our house. The grounds were thick with incredible trees and their colorful  leaves. We were commenting on the trees and how pretty everything was. We began to talk about the flowers on the graves and how sad it was that the person who died didn't even know someone had given them flowers.

Mother said, "Well, I want my flowers while I'm alive to enjoy them." We both laughed and talked about that a little bit more and went on our way.

A few days later I had the opportunity to give her some flowers. I don't remember the occasion, and I honestly don't think there was an occasion. It just crossed my mind. I put a little note on the flowers that said, "While you're alive to enjoy them!" And she immediately knew they were from me. (Not much got past my mom!)

Over the years Mother and I would give each other flowers from time to time. This wasn't anything regular and it usually wasn't a special occasion. Sometimes I would get home from work and find roses or gardenias from her garden on my kitchen table. Always there was a note that said, "While we are alive to enjoy them." And I would always know they were from her and vice versa.

One of the interesting aspects of this story is that the rest of my family never really seemed to know that this was going on. We didn't make that big of a deal about it. It was just something fun that we shared from time to time.

When Mother died we buried her in a cemetery not far from my current home. Dad and I were looking at gravestones and trying to decide if we wanted one with a vase in it. This particular cemetery has stones that are flat in the ground and if you want to place flowers, you had to use a vase that was part of the headstone. Dad asked me if we should have the vase. And suddenly, through all my grief, I remembered what mother and I had done for so many years with flowers. You have to know that my relationship with mother had not been perfect. There were many "rough spots;" some anger and hurt that I have only recently worked through.

But at that moment I had a distinct sense of relief. I had already given mother my flowers. And I also realized that while our relationship had not been perfect, it was ok. I had taken the opportunity to express my love to her while I had the chance. When I think back to the day that we had driven by that cemetery, I was very young. I had no thought that I would ever have to bury my mother. Like most young people, I was smug and certain of my "immortality." Death would not ever knock at my door. I had given her flowers and received her flowers just for fun and because I loved her.

My family put flowers on mother's casket, and at her burial. When the stone was laid, we gathered again and put flowers there again. And I realized that the flowers were for us. And how we needed that. I have friends and relatives that decorate the graves of their loved ones on a regular basis. And there is nothing wrong with that. As I have expressed before, we are all so different, and we glean our comfort where we can. Death is a bitter enemy and I think we should use anything and everything to cope with the ugly swath he cuts through our lives.

After mother first died, I visited her grave often. It just did not seem real that she was gone. But gradually I began to understand another reality. She wasn't there. There was no comfort for me at the cemetery. I go by her grave occasionally to check the area. To see that it is maintained. But my comfort comes from knowing that she is with her Lord. And from knowing that I gave her my flowers while she was alive to enjoy them.

My thought in writing this is not to make a statement about whether or not you should decorate a grave. As we approach Memorial Day, many of you will be participating in these activities and you will notice that I listed this in a previous article on finding some comfort. My grandparents are buried near my Aunt Joyce's house in Oklahoma. She is faithful to check on their graves and to decorate them. I think that is wonderful.

But I did have two thoughts. One is that if you have lost your mother, be careful not to dwell on the negative aspects of your relationship. Things were not always wonderful with my mother. And I am still figuring some of that out. And I will continue to work on that. But not to dwell on it. There is a difference. For every time I filled a little vase with water, put a flower in it, and left it on her kitchen table, I have a little more comfort, a little more peace.

If you have not lost your mother, regardless of your relationship with her, my thought for you is to (as my brother Bob so aptly put it) "keep short books," This doesn't mean that you should shift into some kind of artificial attitude. It just means that while you do have your mother, take the opportunity to honor her while you can. Don't put it off.

James 4:14 -- "...What is your life? It is even a vapor that appears for a little while and then vanishes away."

Proverbs 27:1 -- "Do not boast about tomorrow, for you do not know what a day may bring forth."

Psalm 102:3 -- "For my days vanish like smoke;"

Psalm 103:15-16 "As for man, his days are like grass, he flourishes like a flower of the field; the wind blows over it and it is gone."

We have just passed Mother's Day. By this time next year, many of you will have buried your mother. My prayer for you is that when you do have to face that awful day, you will be able to do it with God's grace and with no regrets.

With all my heart,
Lillian