Alter Ego #2

A while back I began a collection of short, anonymous tributes to some of my wan-a-bee alter-egos who graciously blessed my life by being there to support and encourage me to keep-on-keeping on when life’s journey found me traveling unpaved roads.

An alter ego is defined as one’s second self, a different version of one’s self to aspire to . . . kinda’ like Clark Kent’s Superman. Peter, alter-ego #1, was my first anonymous alter-ego entry Superman. Alter-ego #2 is a Superwoman. Her identity need not remain anonymous to respect her privacy . . . she has already gone Home.

In 2019 a study on spiritual heritage in American revealed nearly two-thirds credited their mother for their Christian legacy of faith. I wasn’t one of that study’s data points, but it was my mother who gently introduced me to my Savior. I’ve shared before, “Later Mom” . . . “Later Freddy” were the last words my mother and I exchanged before she passed, a ‘Later” I so look forward to someday.

The oldest of six in her flock, I was the hands-down black sheep of the progeny, even before my official arrival on the planet. Rushing to her final pre-natal check-up mom stomped on the gas instead of the brakes and T-boned a trolley car. The trolley car won. I suspect it may have been one of my frequent, active womb-wacking kicks she later told me often jolted her awake at nights that was responsible . . . is there such a thing as pre-natal ADHD? 😊 . . . but I digress . . .

But for God’s grace and Grandpa’s behemoth, Sherman tank prototype Chrysler she was driving, we both miraculously survived. My balding nogging still bears matching indentations where the doctor used forceps to extract me into the world . . . I know . . . that explains a lot 😊

To single out one incident of Mom’s unending, unshakeable, undeserved love for her oldest problematic prodigal would be an exponentially impossible task. They’re innumerable, and a treasured resource stored in my memory banks to recall when a ray of sunshine is needed to help dispel life’s storm clouds.  

While I never heard my father say, “I love you”, they were my mother’s favorite three words to me. Delivered with smiles when I occasionally did something right, and with tears when she frequently and reluctantly had to discipline me, Mom embodied the proverbial divine love and discipline of Proverbs 3:12 – “For whom the Lord loves he corrects.”

Thanks Mom for loving me in spite of myself, and showing me a glimpse of the love of Jesus that drew me to Him . . . “Later Mom”