At the end of April in 2010, the Lord sent his angels to summon to himself my mother's soul. Five weeks earlier the doctors had ordered the first round of tests to diagnose why Mom was so jaundiced. She was soon confronted with an apparently inoperable cancerous tumor. Two weeks after those initial tests, she sat with the surgeon, and when presented with possible options, she insightfully inquired, "If I were your mother, what would you advise me to do?"

While not quoting Isaiah 38:1, the surgeon said he would instruct his mother to get her house in order. The best case scenario for my mom, he thought, was 6 to 12 months. As she left his office my mom professed her faith in Jesus to him and basically asked the surgeon if she would see him someday in heaven. Mom rarely minced words.

Less than one month later our family sat in God's house to receive comfort from his Word and sing the hymns that Mom had picked for her funeral.

Twelve months have passed, and we have made it through the first cycle of holidays. This Mother's Day marks the beginning of the second cycle.

Thinking of my mom can still elicit waves of emotion. My eyes still grow misty knowing that I can no longer call Mom to pass the minutes and miles while traveling an hour to a hospital to visit a member. Yet I chuckle as I think of the parallels between my calls to her—sometimes interrupting her afternoon nap—and her calls to me in college at 8 A.M. on the dorm pay phone—interrupting not only my sleep but the rest of the floor as well.

My ears still ring with her shouting that it's time for supper. My taste buds still savor her hot beef on one of her homemade rolls garnished on the side with several of her famous sweet pickles.

Mom, like most, had her quirks and mannerisms. Some of them caused her children to roll their eyes and declare, "Now, Mother!" But recently I've noticed my siblings and I affectionately quipping to each other, "Now that's something Mom would do."

Some of her pet phrases still pop into my mind. She sang, "With the Lord Begin Thy Task" when I would get up on the wrong side of the bed. Even if she was relating some personal difficulty or cross, she typically closed the conversation by confessing, "But all in all I'm still richly blessed."

Throughout her life Mom understood her need for a Savior. During the last years of her life, she especially professed her great appreciation for that Savior. She often announced, "Each day we are one day closer to heaven."

In what became the last week of her life, Mom made it a point to tell each of her children and grandchildren either in person or on the phone, "Remember the most important thing in life is to stay close to Jesus." How true. Even her self-chosen funeral text declared, "For me to live is Christ, to die is gain."