My mother used to leave notes on things: the kitchen counter the steering wheel of the car, the bathroom mirror. She also left notes in public places like the picnic tables at roadside parks when she had found an unusual plant she thought the next tourist might enjoy, or when by chance she and my father had missed someone they had hoped to meet.
More than once, I have found notes on restaurant doors telling me that the plan had changed for some reason and the party was going to happen some place else. She once left a torn piece of notebook paper tacked to the doorframe at Olive Garden with a needle (thread still attached) she always kept in her purse.
Gloria and Kids,
Bill and Daddy decided they wanted Mexican. Meet us at Chi-chi’s.
Love,
Mother
Often, when our children were little, mother would travel with us. When we had to be gone on long trips – like the tour up the west coast that lasted two weeks – mother would take the children out of school on Friday and fly to where we were for the middle long weekend in between. We tried to do something special with the kids during these times to help them learn about the history or the uniqueness of the geographical area we were in. One of our yearly venues was the Anaheim Convention Center in the Los Angeles area which is very close to Disney Land.
While there, Mother and I took all three of the children to the park, but because two of them were so small, Mother walked the babies in the stroller so I could take Suzanne on some rides safe only for older children. The afternoon wore on and the little ones got tired and fussy. When Suzanne and I tried to find Mother and the little ones, they were no where to be seen. We went back to the entrance gate in an effort to catch sight of them. Suddenly, Suzanne looked toward the tall hedge separating the park from the parking lot.
“Look!” she said. “I think I see a note on that hedge. No one would leave a note but Grandma.” Sure enough, when we got close enough, we could see that someone had stabbed a piece of paper on to one of the sticks on the hedge:
The babies got tired, and I’ve run out of spiz;
We’ve gone on back to the hotel to take naps.
Love,
Mother
Not long ago I was talking to Ivan Parker. He was telling me about a sermon he’d heard an evangelist preach about the crossing place between this life and the next. The preacher had made the point that no matter who we are in this life, no matter what we’ve accomplished or how much we’ve failed, whether we are known or unknown, death is the great leveler, and we all cross the river at the same place.
That imagery made me think about Mother and her notes. And I got to wondering, since she’s already made the crossing, what notes she might have left for us there? Knowing her, she certainly tacked a scrap of something to a tree by the river.
I’ve run out of energy, so I’ve gone on home, I can imagine her writing. Come as soon as you can and bring the children with you. Find me when you get here.
Mother
What if other sojourners who have finished this race would happen to leave us notes? What would they say on the remnants of life they left nailed to a tree?
Relax. The just do live by faith. Cross with confidence.
Martin Luther
Will there be one that reads?
Take time to be holy.
The way of the cross leads home.
John Wesley
What if Vestel Goodman left a note with one of her famous lace hankies that said:
I wouldn’t take nothin’ for my journey now!
Love ya, darlin’; Vestal
Or maybe?
To God be the glory! I’m praising my Savior for such a blessed assurance; Jesus is mine. And yours, too.
Fanny Crosby
P.S. I can see!
Or perhaps one that says:
Secure in His arms.
John Calvin
I keep thinking about what I’d most like to say to those coming behind me, should I make the crossing first. What message would I tie to a reed or roll up and wedge in the crotch of a tree for my kids or my sweet husband or my friends to find as they near the place. Maybe I’d write on a scrap from a yellow legal pad:
Something beautiful!
More beautiful than we ever imagined.
Find me just north of the “Welcome Home” banner
somewhere by the water.
You are loved!
Gloria
