This afternoon I discovered on Mom’s nightstand a tiny, black and white photo of her and me when I was about one years old. I looked like I had been crying, but Mom looked so young and vibrant and beautiful.
I imagined her in a shopping mall with her baby girl, spontaneously deciding to seize the moment in a photo booth. Now the photo is stained and part of her lovely smile has been torn off. I wish I knew how to restore it.
A little later, I tried to get Mom to sign the Bible I had purchased with Christmas money my parents had given me. I wrote “Mom” on a piece of paper and asked her to copy it. She willingly tried, but it was illegible.
I had wanted to always be able to see my parents signatures in this gift from them. I wish I could restore Mom’s mind and her lovely signature.
I am so grateful, that even though I can’t fix these things, the ultimate restoration is coming. “…He will again send You Jesus, your appointed Messiah. For He must remain in heaven until the time for the final restoration of all things…” Acts 3: 20b-21a.
Amen, come Lord Jesus.
(January 23, 2013)