arrows in the hands of a warrior

I am listening to Mommy speak.

This is no small feat, as she has been dead for over a decade.

I do not fail to recognize God's blessing in this. First, that I live in a time period where we have the technology to record human voices. Not only that, but we can store them and even change the format to keep up with evolving technology, to the extent that over fifteen years after the recording was made, I am listening to my mom from my iPod. Second, that I even have recordings. I have four "sermonettes" from women's retreats and workshops that she taught. This is an uncommon blessing. Most people are never recorded speaking.

I even get a shoutout in one of them. Well, she refers to me by name, at any rate--calls me, "Jenny, the sloppy one." Thanks, Mom.


One "sermontte" is called "Arrows in the Hands of a Warrior." It's about being a mom. It's from a woman's retreat. This is the artwork for the retreat. Guess who painted it!

What fascinates me is that as she speaks, I recognize thoughts and philosophies that I thought originated in my own little mind--but she says them almost word-for-word and even mentions on how she intentionally fostered and planted those philosophies. (Philosophies is the wrong word, really, but I can't think of a better one.) I miss her.