Within the past two years, I lost both my parents. Some people said the usual, "Well, your dad/mom had a good long life." Others pointed out, "He/She is in a much better place now." Both of those things are true, and I take particular comfort in the latter, knowing they are in heaven with their Father. Neither of those things, however, lessens MY loss.
On an almost daily basis, something will make me think of either or both of my parents. It can be something big, like my daughter performing as the Tin Man in her school's production of The Wizard of Oz. It may be something small, like the way my son gets tickled sometimes and he has this laugh that gets the rest of us going, laughing so hard we can't talk. Sometimes, it's stupid things, like the day the door of my washing machine fell on my hand; yes, I'm fifty, but I still wanted my Mom to sympathize with me!
But a few weeks ago, while talking to my sister via email, she said something that made me think of Mom. We were talking about my writing efforts, and my venture into the world of Amazon self-publishing. My sister said, "You know, Mom would've loved your books, and would've been proud."
Now, I know what the Bible says about pride. I don't believe I'm a proud or haughty person. But to make Mom or Dad proud? Now that's a different story. Because, you see, in order to make Mom or Dad proud, you had to be doing something good. Something special. Something productive.
Each time I upload a new book, I find myself thinking, "I wish Mom were here to read this." And I hope she'd be proud.
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