Recorded and released on the American Pie album in 1971, the single was a number-one U.S. hit for four weeks in 1972. A re-release in 1991 did not chart in the U.S., but reached number 12 in the UK. The song is an abstract story surrounding "The Day the Music Died" — the 1959 plane crash that killed Buddy Holly, Ritchie Valens, The Big Bopper (Jiles Perry Richardson, Jr.), as well as the pilot, Roger Peterson. The importance of "American Pie" to America's musical and cultural heritage was recognized by the Songs of the Century education project which listed the song as the number five song of the twentieth century. (taken from Wikipedia)
As I sat down to blog today, "the day the music died" is what came into my mind. I grew up in the 70's and ironically was born the same year these famous musicians died...1959.
Today is a day of deep significance to me personally and to that of my family because 1 year ago Mom went home to heaven. She is, of course, better off, but we are still grieving over our profound loss. The loss is huge to me, and in some ways, I'm just now recognizing many of those specific losses. I guess that's how grief works...it's a process, and stages have to be moved through. There's no rushing it or slowing it down. One year ago today is the day some of the music in my life died because Mom in so many ways brought a very sweet melody to my life.
Grief comes to each of us on its own terms, and it's taken me a full year to realize in part why God gave me the hands that I have...
Mom's hands were not petite nor were they particularly "pretty", but I can recall as a little girl sitting in church looking at them and the rings she wore on them. I would trace the lines with my finger in the palms of her hands, pull her rings on and off and simply study her hands. I don't know why I did it, but now at 50 and with her gone, I am thankful for the clear picture of her hands that is etched in my memory.
As I wrote an email earlier today to my precious daughter who lives 8000 miles away from me and shared with her a little of what I'm feeling today, I looked down at my hands as I typed and realized that I have Stella's hands. And until today, I've almost loathed them because they were large with big knuckles that require me to have rings sized like that of a man (I think the big knucles come from my Dad!). Because her hands and my hands are similarly sized, the ring I inherited from her that's called a mother's ring fit perfectly. I'm wearing it on my right ring finger,today and it looks........well, I almost said "eerily" but instead I'll comfortingly (is that even a word?) like her's.
As I wrote to Blair today, I also realized how thankful I am that those big hands of Mom's were the STRONG hands that ministered to me and many others in countless ways!
-She cooked with those hands. How many thousands of meals did she prepare for her family, sick friends, greiving friends, new neighbors, church potluck dinners, etc, etc. etc???
-She wrote with those hands. How many thousands of letters and encouragement cards and sympathy cards did she write? Her handwriting was never pretty, but she wrote anyway and always filling her letters and notes with scripture. I don't think I EVER got anything from her that didn't have a specific scripture written in it.
-She comforted with those hands. How many times did she wipe away my tears and cup my face when I was discouraged? How many times did I see her take the hands of another person and say, "Let me pray for you right now." and watch her pray?
-She pointed with those hands. She didn't point with accusation nor did she point judgmentally. She pointed, metaphorically, to Jesus because her hands were always busy doing the work of the Father. She never wanted to take any of His glory for herself. Her life was always about pointing others to Jesus.
So, sweet Jesus, would You tell her for me that I love those big 'ole hands of her's and am hoping these big 'ole hands of mine can live up to her example?!
"Stella...worked with willing hands...with the fruit of her hands Stella planted a vineyard...Stella put her hands to the distaff & Stella's hands held the spindle. Stella opened her hand to the poor and reached out her hands to the needy..Give Stella the fruit of her hands, and let Stella's works praise her in the gates. " Proverbs 31
sidenote: in the margin of my Bible I have written at the end of Proverbs 31,
" 1-6-09 read v. 10-31 to Mama as she lay in the bed at hospice dieing with Daddy, Sandra & Rick beside me...the day before she saw Jesus face to face."
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3 comments:
i love these memories you have of your mom. praying for you and the rest of the family today:)
Sherri,I too have been blessed by knowing Stella Henson. She always treated me as a daughter,never a stranger,even from day one.She is truly an example to strive to live like.It still seems so surreal and does not seem like a year but I am a better person for having known her.I am forever grateful to her for the daughter she raised in you,my BFF for life.We will be like her and Ruth.I love you like crazy,Tori
I hope one day my life can be as Ms Stella's was and my children call me blessed. Sherri more than your hands are a resemblance of your mom, your compassion, caring, leadership, and desire for The Word. I miss seeing you guys.
Teresa
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