Eighteen years ago today, my mother passed away. From the time of check in at the hospital until her death at the hospice facility was 60 days. That wasn’t enough time to prepare.

Just sixty days.

I was thinking about my mom this morning. She was bigger than life. She was the loudest laugh in the room and always had the best stories. Some were even true.

My mother was the most irreverent ministers wife. My father, the strait laced minister, former police officer, US Marine (former but he always said once a Marine always a Marine). My mom was as much of a flower child as you could be as still be a ministers wife. She wore her long hair down and seemed to float in her kaftans during the week and on Saturday, her long hair was piled high on her head and she wore a proper suit to church.

We moved quite a bit when I was younger and every small town held secrets and riches just waiting to be explored.

My mom had always taken us on “Nature Walks” as little girls. I think they were just as much for her as for us. Her goal, I think, was to teach us about the growing things. We played the “I Spy”game but only for the topic of the day, be it flowers, birds, or white shells (hard to find, but not impossible in rural Missouri).

As we walked along, she would teach us little things, like how to shine dandelions under our chins to see if we liked butter. Oh, and she taught us to whistle using grass and our thumbs. And how to skip rocks on a pond, she was a champ at that. One time she skipped her rock 9 times! I remember trying to beat that, but I never did. If it was late winter, our walks would center around the signs of spring. We would watch for robins, she would say, “They are the first to tell winter goodbye, they can do this because they are strong…” I still don’t know if it’s true, but it made sense in my little girl brain. After we saw the robins, the next treasure hunt would be for light blue egg shells.

We would look for clovers, or as my mother of Irish ancestry would call them, the shamrocks. As we looked, she told us stories of fairy rings, wishes, luck, love, and of leprechauns.

Even if there was snow still on the ground, we were on our walks. It was days like this we would look for crocus. She told us that they were the official first sign of spring. Mom said that God made these flowers very sturdy so that their shoots could push thru the cold earth and the frosty snow remnants and make it through the sudden spring freezes. Even when it’s hard, we can still push through. I can hear her voice, with the lilt of a smile, “Every day holds adventure girls, and we are going to look for treasure on this adventure!”

As an adult, I know that my Mom was not just taking us on walks for bonding time or health reasons. My mom was opening our eyes to the beauty that surrounds us. She was teaching us about Hope and Percerverernce.

My mother saw beauty in the ordinary. She purposely looked for it. Even as she was dying, she did beautiful things for people, created beautiful memories for my children, and made her death more about beauty than sorrow.

My mother saw beauty in people. Even when they didn’t see it themselves. My mom made you feel special and that there was nothing else happening in the entire world save her time with you. She saw through the brokenness of humans, in that brokenness she saw how beautiful they were and their redemption. She believed that people just needed to be seen, that act showed them love.

This year, I set out to make time for adventure. To discover and experience new things. All before my 60th birthday. My mom was just 64 when she left us.

It’s funny that Mom’s nature walks would pop into my brain today. I guess I am still on that adventure, looking for treasures, finding unexpected beauty where I can. Only I do it through a dirty windshield.