In America, today is Independence Day.  Yet for me, it is also a day on which, three yeas ago, my mother died.  She was 88.  Mom had been strong and fit for most of her life, but in a moment of misfortune all too common to people her age, she took a fall at home, passed out, and woke up in the hospital.  Although she recovered quickly, the doctors determined that she should be sent to a nursing home for rehab.  Unfortunately, while she was at the nursing home, Mom developed pneumonia, and went back to the hospital.  After she had been at the hospital a week, the doctors informed us there was nothing more they could do, that the disease would not go away.  My siblings and I took her home, and she died about a week later.
     About a month after Mom's passing, we held a memorial service for her.  As Mom's firstborn, I spoke last.  I share my words below.

     "On behalf of Bob, Ellen, and Kathleen, I want to thank you, again, for coming out this afternoon and sharing your thoughts, plaudits, and memories of Mom.  We are indeed grateful that you are here, and greatly appreciate your words, spoken and not.  You have given us wonderful remembrances which we will treasure for many years to come.
     "All of you who spoke shared how Mom had, in some way, touched your life.  You spoke of her effect, her impact, the cumulative weight of Mom’s lasting imprint on your life experience. 
     "In this vein, I share a small part of an ancient Hebrew prayer, a portion of one of the psalms.  Translated from the Hebrew, it reads, 'Oh Lord, give permanence to the work of our hands; yes, Lord, give permanence to the work of our hands.'
     "Like all of us, Mom, I think, wished to leave something permanent behind when she left this life, something of herself, her thoughts, dreams, and convictions that would live beyond her, something that would outlast her, something that would indelibly and permanently endure in the lives of those whom she would no longer see.
     "Your words and testimonials attest amply to this, to the permanence of the work of Mom’s hands, the perduring character and expression and memory of her many years of service, adventure, encouragement, and kindness that we all valued and enjoyed, and that we will all long remember.  Mom’s flourishing touched us all, touched us all with a grace of lasting beauty and rich significance.  She was wonderful and amazing, and she will not be forgotten:  permanent indeed is the work of her hands.
     "And we are forever grateful."

     Indeed:  thanks be to God for our mothers.  Have a good day.