This post is one link in a chain of Christian Writer’s Blogs. Please see the dates and links on the right margin for upcoming blog entries. Each month there is a unifying theme about which we write, each from our own unique insight and style. The theme for March is “Savor” (or Savour).
The word savor (savour) is a noun as well as a verb. As a noun, savor denotes a fragrance or an aroma. The Apostle Paul wrote in 2 Corinthians 2:14-16b, “But thanks be to God, who always leads us in triumph in Christ, and manifests through us the sweet aroma of the knowledge of Him in every place. For we are a fragrance of Christ to God among those who are being saved and among those who are perishing; to the one an aroma from death to death, to the other an aroma from life to life.” (NASB)
On April 21st, 2010, my dear Mother went to be with Jesus. I still miss her terribly, and I guess I will long for her until she and I are reunited one day. As I think of all that I love and appreciate about my Mom, one kind of memory continually returns like the faithfully sweet fragrance of night-blooming jasmine.
In the last few years of her life, my Mom became increasingly thankful. Over and over she expressed to me her gratitude toward our Lord Jesus, and our Heavenly Father. In her youthful voice, she told me all for which she was grateful. A few times, I thought perhaps joyful tears were trying to form (my Mom rarely cried). Her face glowed and her eyes shone as she recounted God’s goodness to her.
My Mother did not have an earthly life of ease. Two major tragedies irrevocably marked her life when she was barely into her thirties. Through the years, life ferociously continued to pummel her with severe hardship, and further loss. Yet, as she drew nearer to eternity, this battle-weary lady became increasingly beautiful in spirit. All hints of sorrow were swallowed by praise and thanksgiving. As I watched my Mother rejoice, I witnessed a profound change: Her face softened and become more beautiful than I had ever seen it; her presence became more peaceful, loving, and kind than in all the years I had known her.
My dear Mom died at 86 years of age, but her mind was sharp to the end. As her conversation returned over and over to the gratefulness swelling in her heart, I knew that this was not the repetition of age: For each telling was a little different, and each time was more precious than the last. It was as if she were dipping ever deeper into the unseen well of the pure water of life; and she was sharing the sweetness with me.
So now, when I think of my Mother, the precious memories of her thankful spirit caress my heart with the hopeful and loving aroma of Jesus. She indeed left behind her “the sweet aroma of the knowledge of Him,” and “the fragrance of Christ.”