Encouraging Words

On what turned out to be the longest day of 2024, I said good-bye to my dear 94-year-old mother.

It wasn’t how any of us had planned to spend that day. Two days earlier, she was returning from getting new hearing aids with my sister when she slipped and fell — broke her femur, sending her to the hospital for what was to be a weekend surgery. Mom was amazingly self-sufficient — still living on her own (with some assistance from my sister, who lives nearby) — and she had gone through heart valve replacement and a pacemaker — with COVID in between those two years back.

But this time, as is often the case with older folks, the trauma to her body was more than she could fight off. Thankfully, she managed to hang on until her kids (including this one) and several grandkids were able to get to Chicago to be with her as she went to be with the Lord.    

I moved out — and my parents moved for my Dad’s new job — just as I graduated college.  My parents (and three siblings) lived in a house and a community that I only rarely visited — even less so as my own work and family drew me hundreds of miles away. As a consequence, there was a big chunk of my mother’s life that occurred outside my experience — neighbors, co-workers, and church members. Many of whom had rich and touching stories of the impact Mom had had on their lives.    

Not that Mom and I didn’t talk. After my Dad’s passing in 2006, I committed to calling her every Saturday morning — not always at the same time, and at times (I found later) wresting her out of bed when she, otherwise, probably had been sleeping. We covered a lot of ground on those Saturday mornings — weather, politics, family, investments — and religion. Mom’s faith was the central focus of her life — as the wife of a minister you might expect that — but as have many others of my acquaintance, she had a life — and a profession — outside of the church. 

See, Mom was a teacher from a long line of teachers — what some might think of as the school librarian, though in later years as a “learning center director,” she also became “custodian” and master of the school’s technology investments — video, computers, etc.  It was a skill she relished and nourished — regularly corresponding on email and using her Kindle Fire (and PC) to keep up with photos and YouTube videos. Both her love of books and reading — and technology’s gifts — she passed on to her kids, notably this one. Despite her age, Mom was no luddite, though in recent years the pace of change (the iPhone operating system updates were a particular challenge) was frustrating (and thank goodness for TeamViewer!).

I’ve shared in previous columns the lessons I picked up along the way from Mom (and my Dad, as well). Her decision to set aside money in a 403(b) when my dad insisted they couldn’t afford to (and trust me, it took some sacrifice — that was on top of the 8-10% of pay mandated pension contributions). But she also had the foresight to buy pension credits for the years she stopped teaching to raise a family.

And she, along with my Dad, bought long-term care insurance before it was “cool” (and when it was considerably more affordable) because she didn’t want to be a burden to her family — and had seen first-hand with her parents the financial toll that can take. Mom’s retirement finances — because of the thoughtful and prudent sacrifices my parents made along the way — were comfortable.  Indeed, her retirement income was better than her pre-retirement take-home even after nearly three decades of retirement.

It was, however, her faith that gave purpose to her life. And even when it was no longer safe for her to drive — and COVID kept her home — she believed with all her heart that the Lord’s purpose for her — despite, and perhaps because of those limitations — was to be an encouragement to others.

And so she did — by phone calls, texts, and an astounding amount of “snail mail” — she found ways to reach out, to support and encourage what turned out to be an incredible network of friends, family, church members — even co-workers from three decades ago.  The week she passed those notes were still arriving, encouraging those in her network(s).

I’m already missing my Saturday morning phone calls with Mom. But what a difference we could make in this world if we would all take to heart her “mission” to support and encourage those around us — to provide those “encouraging words” — because you just never know how much difference it could make…

• Nevin E. Adams, JD