On Mother’s Day, when you went to church you wore a carnation on your lapel or dress – a red one if your mother was alive, a white one if she had died. (Do you remember this?)
I really don’t know what was behind the labeling of ourselves that way; frankly, it seemed a little cruel to the white carnation people. I’ve since read that it was an idea promoted by the florists, which totally makes sense.
My sister and brother and I, along with my Dad, all wore red carnations; my mother wore white. Her own mother had died just days before I was born, an experience I now know had to have flattened her at that time. It takes my breath away just to think about.
I remember I would look around the church and notice all the people wearing white carnations and even as a child, I was gripped with profound dread. If it could happen to all these people – people I knew, even my own mother! – it could happen to me. I, too, could lose my mother.
I did. On July 17, 1997.
No, I didn’t really “lose” her. I know where she is. As a Christian who trusted in Christ to save her from sin and death, she is now alive in heaven with Him; she and I are only temporarily separated by the veil of death. I miss her deeply but I trust there will come a day when we will be together again. That comforts me.
Her presence is still a daily part of my life. I have boxes and albums full of pictures of her. When I look in the mirror, I am reminded of her – I have her eyes, her smile, her hands. I even have her tendency to worry about just about everything. Most important, I have a deep faith of my own because of the faith she taught and modeled through her life, and even her death.
I haven’t seen that Mother’s Day carnation tradition carried out for many years now, at least not in the churches I’ve attended. But I can tell you this: My mother is very much alive this Mother’s Day, she lives on in my heart, my mind, and my memories.
If I had to choose today which carnation to wear, I’d take the red one.
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