She Raised Me Up

If any of you followed my tribute to Mom yesterday, and missed this last post, you need to read it. If you can, click on the song( You Raise Me Up ) and listen to it while you read. If it doesn’t bring a tear to your eyes, you’re a statue! (or something like that. Was I too harsh… jeez… ya just never know how people are gonna react to… oh, whatever; y’all know what I mean!)Last Christmas, Ray and Mom came down to spend a few days with us—they almost always do—and it was, as usual, a wonderful time. It was made even more special by the fact I was able to give my mom a very special gift; the book, Be Still…. and know that I am God. What a blessing it was for me to be able to honor my mother with such a lasting gift. For those who don’t know, her picture is on the cover; I tell the story of how that came about in my post titled, The Bible in the Picture.

This story—the last one I will post in my day-long tribute to my wonderful mother—is about something that happened a few days later. It might have been Christmas Day, because part of the incident involves me listening to a CD Sherry gave me.

The CD was by a group called Celtic Woman, and if you’ve never heard it, Google it and have a listen. The group sings some of the most beautiful songs you will ever hear. My favorite, and the one I was listening to that afternoon, is You Raise Me Up  <—click the link to hear the song on YouTube now. The lyrics speak of how God raises us up to be more than we can be, and basically praises Him for taking us to heights we don’t dream of achieving. It is a very moving song.

I was in the den, working on the jigsaw puzzle—a family tradition we instituted some years back on one of Mom and Ray’s first Christmas visits. Each Christmas, we set it up somewhere out of the way, and stop by and work on it until it’s finished. (Seems I always get to finish it when everyone has gone back home.) Mom came in and sat down in an old comfortable chair a little ways from where I was working on the puzzle. We talked for a bit, then she dozed off in the chair—I didn’t notice this at the time.

A few minutes later, the song I mentioned—You Raise Me Up—began to play, and I was overcome with the aspect of what it was saying. I looked up from the puzzle to say something to Mom, and saw she had fallen asleep. I watched her sleep, as the beautiful words to you raise me up seemed to impenetrate my heart and soul, and the thought came to me that this woman sleeping in the chair had “raised” me up. Tears streamed down my face as I thought of all she’d been through for her children, and the love she had so freely and wonderfully given to us. Her sacrifices for us had never gone unnoticed by me, my sister, and brothers. I thought how she had always stuck by me—never given up on me—and how she indeed had raised me up to be more than I could be.

I know my mom is not the only mom who has done these things for her children; she’s not the only one who has loved without fail; she’s not the only one who has ever gone to her knees and prayed that her child would turn from his wicked ways. No, there are many mothers who have given their all for their children, but… there is only one who did it for me.

I am forever grateful!

I hope you had a wonderful, blessed day, Mom.

And thanks for raising me up to be more than I could be.

I love you very much, Mom!

1 Comment »

  1. Sherry said

    and thanks to my mom, who raised me up . . .I love you

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