We know that the same God who raised our Lord Jesus will also raise us with Jesus and present us to himself along with you. ... That is why we never give up. Though our bodies are dying, our spirits are being renewed every day. (2 Corinthians 5:14-16)
A patchwork of images ran through my head. There were images of days long gone. There were images of recent days. Pictured in the center of the images was one person, my mother-in-law, La Vern Chandler Vincenzi.
Quite often jokes and stories are told about mother-in-laws. Many times, they are placed in the category of unsavory people such as gossips and busybodies. This was not true of her. She defined the true definition of the word "mother." She became a mother to me when I married her son John.
It was in the late 60's when John first took me to Rome, Georgia, to have dinner with his folks. I was nervous as we headed to a quaint, historic town. I didn't know at the time that this visit was one of many, many more to come.
I vividly remember wearing a pink plaid mini-dress. The sleeves were long and flowing, similar in style to a choir robe. I resembled Marlo Thomas in "That Girl." I had dark flipped up hair with the exception of the hat.
The dinner table was beautiful. It reminded me of a table setting one might see at the home of Martha Stewart. Special care had been taken to make everything perfect. I was made to feel welcome and at ease. I was so impressed with the shrimp appetizers served in small clear cocktail glasses. Even the silverware included tiny cocktail forks. When I was growing up, we never ate shrimp. It was far too expensive. There was no such thing as a four-course meal. When we ate, the large Sunday dinner was put into different colored bowls and platters looking something like an all you can eat buffet. So, the first encounter with my soon to be mother-in-law became fixed in my memory. It was delightful in every way ... the ambiance, the food, and the fellowship. It was an encounter of true southern hospitality and grace.
John and I were young, foolish, and impetuous. After dating for only 6 months, we decided to get married. John called his father on the telephone to announce our engagement. I was standing anxiously waiting for his response. I think in the back of John's mind he was thinking his father would try to dissuade him from marrying at such a young age. However, when John told his father the news, he exclaimed, "Congratulations."
Two months after our marriage, I became pregnant. John was a senior in college. Chris, our son, was born prematurely. We called him our miracle baby. By all standards, he should not have survived. As the saying goes, "When science can do nothing else ... then there's God."
The first year was hard. We lived in Rockmart, Georgia. We were poor as church mice. I will never forget how many times Mrs. Vincenzi would come to visit us with her car loaded with groceries. I felt the excitement of an eight-year-old on Christmas Eve waiting for the arrival of Santa with his goodies. It would always be enough food to fill our cabinets. She didn't just bring store bought food. The day before she arrived she would get up around 5:00 a.m. to go to the farmer's market to buy fresh vegetables. The peas would be shelled, the corn would be shucked, and the tomatoes and cucumbers would be washed and ready to eat.
When we took Chris to visit his grandparents for the first time, he was cranky. Mrs. Vincenzi told me she would get up and give Chris his 2 a.m. bottle and for me to stay in bed and rest. This was not unusual for her. She had a habit of putting other's needs before her own. She took pleasure in it. She was defined by her servant's spirit.
Being the first grandchild, Chris became the apple of her eye. She always looked forward to his visits to her home. He had his own drawer in the bottom of her chest that kept his toys. She baked his favorite treats. She took him on day trips to Cave Springs and Martha Berry College where he could run, and explore, and enjoy nature in all its fullness. She never seemed weary or tired. It rejuvenated her. It was what kept her young. I guess "special" would pretty much define how she made him feel. He knew it and loved her for it.
Five years later, our daughter, Jill, was born. The first person John called was his mother. I wasn't surprised. She was the one who told us that she would take care of Chris while we adjusted to the new baby.
Now, Mrs. Vincenzi had two grandchildren she adored. Soon afterwards, John's sister had a baby girl who was named Anna. The number had increased to three. Mrs. Vincenzi's patience was soon to be tested. She took both of the girls to visit her sister in Florida. As little girls do, they fought and argued the entire trip. Anna and Jill were fighting over Jill's stuffed cat. They were in a fierce tug-of-war. Suddenly the head of the cat was jerked from its body. Jill became hysterical. Mrs. Vincenzi's ingenuity surfaced. Being a former practical nurse, she performed emergency surgery and re-attached the cat's head. Her quick thinking and action brought remedy to the situation.
I always referred to her as "the rock." I told her she was the Rock of Gibraltar in our lives. Whenever there was a problem, she did not waver. You could count on it. It didn't matter if she was sick or busy; she was never too sick or too busy to be there for her family. She had a rare trait ... dependability. Dependability is not found in most people's dictionary. But in hers, it was in bold print.
During the last days of her life, her heart began to fail. Ironically, as her physical heart became weaker, her inner heart became stronger. It was though her love for her family kept her alive. The doctors had given up on her. We were told her heart was gone. The doctors didn't see what we saw. Her heart was not only there, it was whole. We saw a woman who was frail in body, but mighty in spirit. We saw the power of love.
In February, she was sent home from the hospital to die. Of course, she hated being a patient. She didn't want to "put anyone out." She had always been the nurse. She had always been the caretaker. Now, the roles had changed.
We had the opportunity to thank her for all she had done. We told her we loved her. We prayed for her. We had the pleasure of being able to care for her. God gave us three months to tell her goodbye. We realized this was a special blessing not afforded to most. Of course, she herself was a special blessing not given to most.
I love you, O Lord, my strength. The Lord is my rock, my fortress and my deliverer; He is my shield and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold. I call to the Lord, who is worthy of praise, and I am saved from my enemies. The cords of death entangle me; the torrents of destruction overwhelmed me. The cords of the grave coiled around me; the snares of death confronted me. In my distress I called to the Lord, I cried to my God for help. From His temple he heard my voice; my cry came before Him, into his ears. He reached down from on high and took hold of me; he drew me out of deep waters. He rescued me from my powerful enemy, from my foes, who were too strong for me. They confronted me in the day of my disaster, but the Lord was my support. He brought me out into a spacious place; he rescued me because he delighted in me. He shows unfailing kindness to his anointed, to David, and his descendants forever.
God indeed rescued her that very morning. He defeated death and escorted her into His "spacious place" ... heaven. He delighted in her. His unfailing kindness was shown to her. And, God left us with another wonderful promise. His unfailing kindness would continue to be shown to her descendants. God gave the promise of blessings to her descendants.
All of us miss her sorely. There are times I have almost reached for the telephone to tell her the latest news. However, I don't focus on what I miss without her but rather what I gained from knowing her.
The long goodbye made an indelible stamp on my heart. And, God in His goodness gave me His peace. He reminded me ... good-byes don't last forever.
I can tell you this directly from the Lord: We who are still living when the Lord returns will not rise to meet him ahead of those who are in their graves. For the Lord himself will come down from heaven with a commanding shout, with the call of the archangel, and with the trumpet call of God. First, all the Christians who have died will rise from their graves. Then, together with them, we who are still alive and remain on the earth will be caught up in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air and remain with him forever. So comfort and encourage each other with these words. (1 Thessalonians 4:15-18)
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