I Wish...

Christine writes, "People who knew her would say, "Your mother loved you and she was proud of you." That made me smile.  My mom always wanted to live on a ranch with horses and chickens.  If I could have a do-over, I would take her to live her final days on a ranch.  I can see her smiling now."
With Her and Without Her p.107

Do you ever wish you could have done something specifically for or with your mother before she passed away?  I do.  I wish I could have played my cello for her. I wish I could have brought my big beautiful "oversized violin" into her bedroom, and played while she rested. Oh, wait a second.  I didn't play so well. I knew a few pieces, but the truth is, she might not have enjoyed what I was able to do at that time, but the fact still remains, I WISH.   I know I COULD have played for her, but I didn't.  I thought about it, but the approval-seeking child in me surfaced and convinced the level-headed adult that it would be wrong, even torturous to give her anything but THE BEST. Unfortunately, my mother only heard about my cello. She never heard me play it.

Wouldn't it be delightful if I could sit here and tell you that I've honed my skills, I can now play with the  ease of Yo-Yo Ma?! Ha! I wish! The truth is, I've seldom had (ahem... TAKEN) the opportunity to hone my skills on the cello.  I played for a while, but I progressively let other priorities take precedence over practice, and today my big beautiful cello sits untouched.

You may be wondering why I'm writing about my unfulfilled wish and my unplayed cello. So let me get to the point. I didn't play for my mother when the opportunity was there.  I didn't stop playing immediately after her death, it just became one more thing to do. So now in my craft room sits an unplayed instrument. I plan to remedy that, and here's how: I can no longer play to my mom, but I can still play and honor her at the same time.  My plan is to pick up where I left off.  I'll find a teacher, dust off my bow and start playing again. It won't be easy, but "inch by inch will be a cinch."  It'll be years before I can give Mr. Ma a run for his money, but it shouldn't take too long before I'm ready to play a little something on my own. That might mean playing for family members or friends, but I'm willing to do it. Furthermore, I'm going to do this in memory of my mom.

What about you? Is there something you'll consider doing to honor your mom's memory? Challenge yourself, and let us encourage you in your endeavor!