Scented Memories

Last year, I brought home a jewelry box that belonged to my mother. I had always admired it and when my sister and I were cleaning out her things I asked if I could have it. 

This morning as I was rummaging around in one of the little drawers, trying to pick out a pair of earrings, I caught a faint whiff of the perfume my mother wore. I immediately had tears in my eyes, a lump in my throat and felt a tightening of my stomach as grief hit me. 

It's been a year and a half since cancer took my mother. The first year was tough for me as I worked through the emotions of grief. The past six months have been better and I'm not dreaming about her, nor am I walking around with tears just beneath the surface. But that perfume scent transported me right back to her final days.

I loved my mom though she and I had a tumultuous relationship at times. She was my biggest supporter, but she was also my biggest critic. My mom had been physically, sexually and emotionally abused as a child and teenager. Her world had been out of control in her younger years so she had a need to keep things under tight control. 

I struggled under that control as I grew up. I loved my mother, and as an adult, I understood her struggles much better than I did as a child. While I would often be frustrated with her, I had compassion on her as well. My mom was very concerned about what others thought, and that seemed to be the driving force behind most of what she did.

To her credit and to show her character, my mother was an incredibly faithful woman. She went above and beyond in every single thing she undertook. She would give you the shirt off her back and she would be the first to defend her family if someone hurt us. 

When my mother came to know the Lord, she plunged into serving Him wholeheartedly. She taught Sunday School, supported missions, helped with almost every single thing going on at her church. But at the end of her life she really struggled with feeling like God approved of her. She kept talking about all the mistakes she made and that breaks my heart. We repeatedly reassured her of our love for her and God's love for her.

The reality was that God didn't require her to do any of the things she did to earn His love. He loved her just because she was His child and precious in His sight. He loved her because He chose her before she was even born. 

I know she is resting in the arms of Jesus now and basking in His love. I know that she no longer doubts that love and for that I'm thankful this morning.