I have been stymied with my writing for almost two months.  There could be and probably are many reasons for that.  However, I have to sit down and plow through the random overwhelming images that I’ve had the last week or so.  Issues that run so swiftly through my mind that I feel my own personality has taken on the texture of volcanic pumice.  Porous and hard, but brittle.

My mother passed away a little over a week ago, and from that alone it would be easy enough to swirl.  Yet, I’m swirling yet again because of the legacy that she left to me and those that knew her.  Emails, phone calls, and all sorts of contact from people that I have never met, nor am I likely to meet them.  Details, details, details…. and the worst part is trying to figure out how to honour someone’s memory who would, in her own words, rather not a fuss be made over.

Emotionally I have needed many things this week, and they have fluctuated from minute to minute.  But, one thing I really needed came in the form of a cold front.  Living in Florida a cold front could be something in the 60’s.  Frustrating to someone who really relishes the cold.  But it has gotten down into the 40’s, and I have gotten up early in the morning and stood outside in my shorts and t-shirt and let the cold wash over me like the waves on three sides of us do.

It has been healing, and I’m being patient as God shows me how to share with everyone what my mother, Mary Cordelia Romaine (Burbank obviously) meant to me and others all over the world.

But today, it’s just that my mother rests in Uganda, in the hearts of those orphans she loved and hugged and took care to show every blessing to.  May her heart’s desire be fulfilled in those little ones’ lives.  Rest in Peace, mom.  May my words do your sacrificial life justice.