Have you seen on TV or maybe in your own house the exercise where an item is to be divided (usually between children – each wanting the lion’s share) and the adult says, “One of you cut, the other gets to pick.”? This kind of ensures an equitable division of the booty. Growing up with one brother might seem to some as a prime opportunity to have worn, day and night, a custom made “selfish suit” with one brother always trying to outdo the other and always wanting the most, the best, the biggest, etc. I don’t remember it that way at all. Rob and I are two years apart in age and have always been nearly the same size. The size thing was great because we could share clothes. This meant more for both – Hmmm. All, that is, except for shoes! I don’t know whose big, flat feet I inherited, but my shoes were my shoes; as big as the box Rob’s came in. We never had to fight over food or treats and other than wanting what he had because he was older and cooler and I wanted to be cool too, I don’t remember us arguing about any of that ‘kinda stuff’.
We lost Mom is August. As her end drew near and during our time of honoring her life, the stories told and the memories shared opened my eyes. Mom was a “share-er.” It’s not that fighting or selfish behavior was forbidden; it’s that we just didn’t see it to know that it was a possible way to be. Mom’s mom, our Grandma Toby, was the same. She raised two daughters on her own. Financially strapped and continually moving from one small apartment to another, she only voiced one regret that I can ever remember hearing from her. During a cold winter’s bus ride one evening, she encountered a child on the bus. The child did not seem to be dressed warmly enough, and my grandmother always wished that she had given the child her coat.
Because Rob and I are named in Mom’s will, we have had to sign a certain number of documents.
I am glad that there are lawyers to keep all of these things straight, and I am equally glad that I am not one of them. The wording is fairly technical and, I am sure, universal. It contains the kind of language understood across the industry to keep everyone singing off the same sheet of music. There is one phrase in her will that although it is ‘legal-ese’, sounds so much like her. With regard to certain parameters, if Rob and I were to have to divide her property, it says, “Share and share alike.” I can just hear her; “You boys share that now, share and share alike.”
Mom was not actually a share-er; she was a give-er. She would not share her time, money, possessions, love -- she would give them to you and never expect anything in return. As my memories run like an endless reel of film, she always put others first. She would endure personal discomfort if it meant that you would be comforted. She would sit in a straight back chair next to your hospital bed so that you would not be alone. She would gladly give you the sweater she was wearing because you needed it or just because you commented on how much you liked it. She did not share and share alike. She gave and gave and gave. She found joy in making others happy.
A little boy cries out in the night, frightened from the storm outside his window. As his parents arrive he announces that he was scared to be there by himself. Trying to console him and at the same time not show any sign of agitation, they respond that he was not alone – that God was with him. He thinks for a moment and responds back that while that is all well and good he sometimes needs God with skin on. You do not have to travel far to run into WWJD. Bracelets, bumper stickers, tee shirts and even spray paint on a building wall. We read the Bible and go to church and study and speculate. In THIS situation, “What Would Jesus Do?” We hope we get it right. Sometimes in our lives (and we all know someone; or several someones) there is that person that is Jesus with skin on -- someone that lives the answer to the question.
In Mark 10:35-45 we read …the first among you must be slave of all. Mom lived her life with a servant’s heart. She was a great role model. and I am blessed to have known her, learned from her and been loved by her.
Steve Matthews
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