Over the last weekend I got to spend some true quality time with my mom. We took a mini-vacation over to Biltmore and did the whole she-bang. I think on Friday alone we traversed six miles on the grounds. Mom let me geek out over the house and history. She also let me take goofy photos like the one below.
She let me treat her to dinner (something she just doesn’t like to do) and we were able to indulge in flower wandering in their large garden.
In the midst of it I kept seeing glimpses of the woman I am, many of the good things about my mom that have over the years become a part of me. One of which is her compassion, her loving and giving heart. She remembers people, birthdays, anniversaries and the like. She makes it a point to care for those when they are sick and give comfort through her presence during times of loss.
Over and over again I see examples of how my mom loves others with the love of Christ. Unconditionally. Fully. With compassion. With hope. In joy. I pray I get a portion of that from her. Desiring to be compassionate towards others means that I must choose to love, choose to see and choose to act.
That isn’t always easy and it’s definitely not comfortable. However the flip side is a life that sees only the bad, that never reaches out to help, and never truly finds fulfillment.
I fought for so long the very thing I now seek and pray to embody…a heart full of compassion, to love others well and be Christ to them. I fought that because my mom does it so very well and when you’re an angsty teen you don’t want to be like your mom when you grow up. But now I see how that is the absolute number one thing I want to be, just like her. Loving and serving. Giving and being. Listening and laughing.
She is the hands and feet of Christ, and has been for so very long to me and to others. Compassion never looked so good on a woman.