Morning Coffee

Dare I take another stab at a more serious topic? I think I will.

Today's entry is a tribute to the matriarch of the Bitter clan, Mary Barbara Bitter (Clark).

She, herself had a few "isms", but I think I'll save those for another day. Today I'd like to share with you all, the legacy that she left behind.

Each morning at around 5:30, the smell of freshly brewed coffee would permeate the air throughout the house. And, although this is a very common occurrence in many an American household, it now holds a very special meaning, at least to me. Mom's morning coffee ritual was not the typical, run of the mill morning coffee. It was HER time. We all knew, without question, that between the hours of 5:30 and 7:00 a.m., the kitchen table area was off limits to noise, questions, or distractions of any kind. But, it was about more than just coffee. This was the time that Mom spent each day to pray. She prayed in a slightly different manner than most folks do. That is to say she wrote down all of her prayers. She kept a journal of her prayers. Nothing fancy, just her, her Bible, a 10 cent spiral notebook and a pot of coffee. I often wondered what she could possibly spend an hour and a half praying about. And it wasn't until she passed on, that we all found out.

Growing up in the Bitter household was a lesson in patience for all involved. Finances were usually tight. The chaos of raising 7 children, is enough to test the nerves of the strongest willed people alive. Granted, the most children under the roof at any given time was 5, but still. The older kids had to do without for most of their childhood. Times were tough. There were a lot of times when Dad was out of work, or in between jobs. There were times when Mom was working more than one job to help out. There were even times when the older kids had to give up their own earnings from their part time jobs, just to make ends meet. My only sister, Barbara, one of the eldest children, spent most of her formidable years playing "mom" to the rest of us. Given all of this information, you'd think it would be easy to surmise what was in all of those journals. But, you would be wrong. Well, at least partially wrong. Sure, there were many entries asking God to deliver the family from their financial woes, pleas to her Lord to help Dad beat his addictions, and countless prayers for her children's health and safety. But there were more prayers of praise and blind faith than anything else. I'll go ahead and share one of my favorite Mary - isms. "Let go and let God". This wasn't just lip service, either. This was a code she lived by. As bad as things got, (and they got pretty harsh at times), she would always manage to let everyone know that God was in control. She knew the Lord. Sure, she would lose it on occasions, she was human, after all. We all do. But, more times than not, she would eventually take a look at the problem, and give it up to God to fix.

When she passed away, amongst her belongings, we found stacks upon stacks of spiral notebooks. Each one containing some insight into Mom's ability to trust God. Each one chronicling a different time with different circumstances and trials, but also the faith she put in her Lord and Savior to take care of it all. And although I haven't gotten around to reading through all of them, the few I have read, painted a portrait of faith more beautiful than any Rembrandt I've ever laid eyes on. What does all of this have to do with leaving a legacy? I'll tell you.

Given the circumstances in which we were all raised, it would be easy to assume that not all of the kids would turn out very well. There is a history of alcoholism and mental illness that spans generations on both sides of the family. Dysfunction is a term we are all very familiar with. So, it would be safe to assume that a couple of apples would have fallen off the tree at some point, right? That is where Mom's legacy comes in. Despite all that the Bitters have been through in our lives, and all of the opportunity to travel down the road to utter and complete ruin, we survived. Not only did we survive physically, but much more importantly, we survived spiritually. All of Mom's children know the Lord, today. All have a relationship with Him that transcends any problem life can throw at us. Granted, some have a deeper relationship with Him than others, But we all know and trust Jesus Christ in our daily lives, to some extent. Each of us has had our own tragedies, trials and tribulations to deal with. Everyone does. But what's important, is Who we look to for help. Eventually, we all, at one time or another, dropped to our knees and cried out to God for His Divine wisdom, providence and intervention. And considering all of the ways things could have turned out, I'd say that is an awesome testimony to Mom's faith in the Lord to look out for us and protect us all.

Later on, after Dad passed had passed away, Mom had to learn how to be independent, to stand on her own two feet. There were so many basic things that she had to learn to do for herself. The changes we witnessed in Mom's peace and strength over that period of time were monumental. She became a much stronger, self reliant person. Most importantly, she not only still prayed each day, but she learned to WALK with the Lord, each day. This transformation was an amazing and beautiful thing to watch.

While holding the hands of two of her seven children, Mom left this world to be with Jesus, while singing "Amazing Grace" as she drew her last breath. If that doesn't show you the power of a life transformed by Christ, I don't know what would.

I, for one, can testify that remembering Mom's morning prayer time has had a big impact on my walk with God. Whenever I feel like there's not enough time in the day to read the Word or just to pray, I can't help but remember Mom at that old kitchen table, scribbling away in her journal for over an hour each morning. If we all spent that kind of time and dedication to prayer and reading the Word of God, how much better would this world be to live in?

Coffee, anyone?

Thanks for reading.