A picture posted on a Facebook page brought back a flood of memories. It was picture that accompanied a Christmas letter of my mother and father in the mid to late 1990s. I probably should know the year. However, they wore the same outfit for in their pictures for over a decade, it is understandable that I might not remember this year from another. The posting of this Christmas picture was to an audience of shirttail relatives that had not seen it before. It was fun to relieve the surprise and laughter that the pictures always brought. The realization that I was responding on mom’s behalf as her son trigger a second memory that is forever linked.
Eight years ago I was scheduled for major surgery. My accountant asked if I would mind if he prayed for me. Surprised by the request, I responded with a quick “yes, it would be wonderful if you did. Thank-you for asking.” He went on to share with me that in his tradition, Jewish, it was customary to pray with my formal first name further described as the “son of…” and my mother’s full maiden name.
As I think of my parent’s Christmas picture and the prayer offered on my behalf, I realize in lots of ways, good, interesting, and more interesting, I am the son of my mother. A lot of her is mixed in with influence of others leading to a combination of experience, learnings, and values, leading to the person I have chosen to be.
The more I reflect on the people that helped me become what I am, the more important they become. At times, it takes a reminder from others to get me back to this point. The psalmist words are variations on several conversations that bring me full circle; “O seed of Abraham, his servant, O child of Jacob, his chosen.” (Psalm 105.6)
To the individuals that have and continue to influence my life, thank-you for your patience and perseverance. I am a work in progress; the best is still to come.
