This week should have been a week of grand celebration.
For my beloved mother would have turned 100 years old. As a family, we had dreamed of celebrating this remarkable milestone together. God, however, had different plans. He called her home just a few months before her centenary. While our hearts miss her deeply, we take comfort in knowing that she is celebrating in a far greater place—among the saints and angels, in the presence of the Savior whom she loved and served faithfully for nearly a century.
My mother, Esther, was born as the eldest child to a minister. From the very beginning, she was treated like a queen by her father, but more importantly, she was raised to know the King of Kings. Her parents planted in her heart the love of Jesus Christ, and that love never faded—not through joy, hardship, loss, or old age. It remained the defining force of her life until her very last breath at the age of 99.
If there was one thing that characterized my mother, it was her unwavering compassion for the forgotten.
Her heart belonged to the blind, the deaf, and the mute. She loved and cared for children with disabilities with a passion that sometimes seemed greater than the love she showed her own biological children—including yours faithfully.
As a young boy, I struggled with that. I often wondered why she spent so much time serving others instead of spending it with us. I was hurt. I was even angry.
Years later, I finally asked her.
Her answer changed my life forever.
She explained that God had entrusted those children to her because so few others would love them the way they deserved to be loved. She wasn't neglecting her children; she was extending God's love to those who had almost no one else.
Suddenly, everything made sense.
Not only did I understand her heart, but I also found myself joining her in that ministry. The disappointment of my childhood became one of the greatest lessons of my adulthood.
For a woman of her generation, she was remarkably educated and held an excellent job. Yet she believed that her career had become a stumbling block to the ministry God had called her to. Without hesitation, she walked away from professional success to devote herself fully to serving Christ.
That decision defined her life.
Then came another devastating chapter.
She lost my father while she was still in her early forties.
Many would have surrendered to grief.
Many would have chosen an easier road.
Not my mother.
She carried on with extraordinary courage, raising her family while continuing to serve others with unwavering faith. Her circumstances never dictated her commitment to God.
Looking back today, she could have left us enormous wealth. She could have accumulated bungalows, gold, silver, land, and possessions.
Instead, she left something infinitely greater.
She left a legacy.
Her final gift to me was not jewelry.
It was not money.
It was not property.
It was her Bible.
A well-worn Bible filled with highlighted verses, handwritten notes, prayers, and reflections gathered over a lifetime of walking with God.
When I received that Bible, my mind immediately went to Acts 3:6, where Peter tells the lame man:
"Silver and gold I do not have, but what I do have I give you."
As I held my mother's Bible in my hands, I felt like that lame man.
Not because I received material wealth.
But because I received something far more valuable.
I received the faith that shaped her life.
I received her spiritual inheritance.
I received the testimony of a woman who had spent nearly one hundred years walking faithfully with Jesus Christ.
I can say with complete honesty that I would not trade that old Bible for any inheritance this world could ever offer.
It is, without question, the greatest gift my mother ever gave me.
Today, I miss her more than words can express.
How I wish she were still here.
How I wish I could hug her one more time, hear her prayers one more time, and thank her once again for the life she lived before us.
But grief does not have the final word.
Hope does.
Because of Jesus Christ, I know this is not goodbye.
It is simply, "See you later."
Happy 100th Birthday, Ma.
Heaven is blessed to celebrate your centenary.
Here on earth, we celebrate your life, your faith, your sacrifice, and your legacy.
May we, your children and grandchildren, continue to carry the torch you handed to us.
The greatest monument you left behind is not a building.
It is not a bank account.
It is not even the ministries you built.
It is the countless lives you pointed toward Jesus Christ.
I love you, Ma.
I miss you every single day.
And until we meet again, I will treasure your Bible, continue your legacy, and thank God that He chose you to be my mother.
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