By Sandy Kirby Quandt
Last week Pilot, Pie, and I stood in a small cemetery in Georgia and bid a loved one good-bye.
On November 6, 2014, Jesus escorted my mother, Edna Mae Hinson Kirby, (9/16/19 – 11/06/14) to her forever-home that he prepared just for her.
I imagine my dad is showing Mom around as they make their way down those streets paved with gold and introducing her to all his new friends.
I imagine friends and relatives who preceded Mom will eagerly embrace her and talk about all they’ve done since they last met.
At some point in time that only God knows I too, will leave this world and join them.
Some of you reading this have met my mother but for those who never had that privilege, I’d like to tell you an anecdote about her.
About a year and a half ago when Mom was seriously ill and very much near death, Pilot placed an order for a floral arrangement to be delivered to her hospital room.
The floral shop had already closed for the day that Saturday but the owner answered the phone anyway.
We’d ordered flowers from Sapp’s Florist several times before. The first time was for Mom’s 92nd birthday, mere weeks after she moved into the nursing home. I cried as I gave the owner Mom’s new permanent address. So maybe our phone number came up on his caller ID and he decided to answer. I don’t know why he took the call, but I’m glad he did.
The next day, Sunday, he hand delivered the flowers to Mom’s hospital room.
When I called that day to check on Mom I was surprised when she told me how the flowers had been delivered.
In typical Edna fashion Mom said, “When the man came into my room carrying that big ole bunch of flowers I wanted to tell him, “Lord, I’m not dead, yet!”
To which I replied, “If you’re doing that well, send the flowers back!”
That was my mom. Feisty to the end.
Mom has run her race and fought the good fight. She has left a legacy for those who come behind.
Her blood courses through my veins and through my son, Pie’s, veins and through all her descendants for generations to come.
Woven and spun.
Thank you, Heavenly Father, for my mother’s life and for knitting me together in her womb.
“Let not your heart be troubled. You are trusting God, now trust in me. There are many homes up there where my Father lives, and I am going to prepare them for your coming. When everything is ready, then I will come and get you, so that you can always be with me where I am. If this weren’t so, I would tell you plainly. And you know where I am going and how to get there.” John 14:1-4 (TLB)
I wish you well,
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