Life: Prelude to Eternity

Today I do not mourn my mother. I mourn myself. I believe firmly that my mother is happy with Jesus Christ in heaven. But I still mourn. I mourn that I can't see her; I can't give her a hug; I can't sit down and talk to her. I mourn _my_ loss.

I know that many people have lost loved ones before me; and even though I feel that losing my mother was losing one of the most precious people on this earth, I want to let you know that I "sorrow, but not as those that have no hope."

I'm trying to remind myself at this time that I not only had a chance to enjoy 36 years of knowing my mother, I will have a time in the future that I will see her again. It was painful to watch her deteriorate in the hospital right before my eyes. But I know that one day she will rise again. When Jesus calls us all to heaven and then brings us back to earth to rule in righteousness, I will be able to enjoy seeing my mother, hugging her, and talking to her a long time.

Although my mother isn't able to talk to all of you today, she had me write down some comments on July 10 that she wanted to share with you. Her main statement was

"I was a happy missionary, a happy wife, a happy mother serving the Lord in Taiwan for thirty-six years--a complete circle with God in the center. Each day you have to ask God, 'what do you want me to do?'"

I want to look at these three areas of her life to share with you some special memories of my mother.

For thirty-six years she was a missionary with my father in Taiwan. From December 1959 with John only a babe in arms until July 1996 with all three sons on their own, she and my dad gave their lives to introduce the Taiwanese people to Jesus Christ and to establish churches.

She wanted me to write down, "In those 36 years never one time did my mother say, 'I want to go to the U.S.' When it came time for retirement God had prepared her for this time in her life."

I would like to share a small aspect of her missionary life with you.

Because fresh milk is so expensive in Taiwan, even now it is $8 a gallon, my mother would mix milk from powder. To be economical, she bought a 55-pound bag of milk powder and opened it one time to fill several large tupperware containers. One by one she would use the powder from the containers until they were all empty and then she would open the 55-pound bag again to fill them. By not opening the large bag too often, she was able to keep the powder from getting damp in Taiwan's high humidity.

But, I need to tell you how she prepared the water. In the evening she would boil a large tea kettle of water, letting it _boil_ in her kitchen for 20 minutes to make sure all the germs, even hepatitis, were killed, and then she let it sit overnight till morning. Only then would she pour some into a pitcher to put into the refrigerator to get cold by evening when she would mix milk for the next day. She says, "I have made more milk than some cows give."

When my mother found herself in the hospital with an undiagnosed illness, I let a few friends in Taiwan know. They spread the word and then let me know that 17 churches in Taiwan were praying for her. Then, during her hospital stay, some Chinese visitors came by the hospital and said to her, "Thank you for your work among Chinese people. Thank you for what you did to tell the Chinese about Jesus Christ."

My mother was a happy wife. She said to me right off the bat in the most direct way. "I have had a most happy life--I have been Mrs. Norman Lehman."

My mother held the view that if we are polite to strangers, we should really be even more polite to family. If we say nice things to people we don't know at all, we should say even nicer things to people we know well. Those of you who know her, think back on what you heard my mom say about my dad. Can you remember a negative comment? Can you recall words of criticism, snide remarks, or sarcasm? My mom has been my dad's strongest supporter and most devoted encourager for more than 41 years of marriage.

My mother wants to be remembered as "a thankful, happy person, counting her blessings and wanting to share funny stories and happenings."

Here's one:

I had gone to Taiwan one summer during graduate school in order to help in the ministry there, and on our way to the airport it started to rain. Right away, my dad turned on the windshield wipers and thought the problem was solved. Unfortunately, the wipers broke. We made it to a service station , but there was no one who could fix them. One attendant suggested we tie string to the windshield wipers and pull them manually. My suitcase had been tied with string, so we took it off and tied it to a wiper and then my mom pulled her end from the front seat, and I pulled my end from the back seat. Can you see us driving through the rain two hours or more to the airport, pulling in rhythm and hearing my dad say from time to time, "Pull faster, I can't see!" At the airport, I boarded the plane for the US, so that meant my mom had to pull _both_ ends back and forth all the way home so my dad could see to drive.

She helped my dad. And she had a lot of fun!

As her son, the part of her life that I saw most was her life as a happy mother.

She was the one who taught me to read. She taught me to type. She told me so much about life, about the Bible, about fun, I couldn't begin to share everything.

As we rode the train in Taiwan, she knew the names of all the stations. As I began reading books she had read years before in college, she could still remember details about the characters and the plots. She taught me so much about the Bible, that even when I was taking my doctoral comprehensives, I reached back to my early childhood to remember details she had taught me. And she was lots of fun. Always a smile. Always a lot of energy. She looked so much on the bright side of things, that one time when we were all in the same taxi going to the clinic to get shots--and were not looking forward to them--she said, "At least we're together."

It was hard to buy my mother gifts. She never wanted anything. All she wanted was to be together with us. From the time we were in elementary school and lived two weeks at a time away from home in a dormitory, whenever we went home, she made the visit special. After we went off to college, anytime we had a chance to come home, she prepared our favorite foods and arranged her schedule to make our visit a priority. You can look on the calendar hanging right now in her kitchen. On the page of July—this month--you can see three words across the top--"Mark comes home!"

Lying on the hospital bed, my mom reminded me of how I had kindergarten. Because where we lived there was no international school, my mother would take me to the train station of our town by pedicab--a vehicle like a rikshaw that was pedaled instead of just pulled. Then we rode the bus to the next town, where we got on a pedicab and rode to my school. Because the school was on top of a steep hill, we had to walk up that hill so I could go to my class. While I was in class, she walked back down that hill and rode a pedicab to a missionary friend's house. When class was about over, she rode a pedicab back to my school and walked up that steep hill, met me, walked with me down that hill again and we rode a pedicab back to the bus station. When the bus reached our town, we got in a pedicab again and rode home. Once a week my mother took me to the school so I could be with other children, and then other days she taught me at home. She did that a semester to make sure that I could handle first grade the next year.

As I think of her, I think of little touches of love. In my frequent travels, she kept up with my schedule. She would always try to have a letter from her waiting for me at my next destination. I walk by her desk now, and see my prayer card hanging there. As she lay in the hospital bed experiencing a lot of pain, she said, "I wanted to have everything at the house ready for you when you came."

Thank you, Mom, for being my precious mother.

She was a happy missionary, a happy wife, and a happy mother, a complete circle with God in the center.

During one of her last nights in the hospital, she woke up and seemed to be teaching a class. She kept repeating, "Jesus is everything. Jesus is everything."

One of the most special comments of Jesus is that God is not the God of the dead, but of the living. If Jesus could say to Moses that He is the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, and since He is the God of the living they must still be alive, then I know that my mother is still alive.

Because I have done so much traveling and have lived many years away from my mother--one year in first grade, ten years in college, and four years as a missionary--I have often said "Good-bye" to her. Always, I have been able to see her again. Today, since I know I will see her again, I want to say simply,

"Good-bye, Mom."

Summary of her life:

Born in Potts Camp, Mississippi

Educated mainly in Memphis, TN

Worked two years as a secretary

Earned a B.A. in Bible at Bob Jones University 1957

Worked with Child Evangelism

Married December 1957

Came to Taiwan as a missionary December 1959

Left Taiwan for America 1995 Life: Prelude to Eternity Tribute to F. Nadine Lehman (Mother of Mark Lehman) November 29, 1932 – July 15, 1999