The four had the same form, their construction being something like a wheel within a wheel. Ezekiel 1:16 (NRSV)
Years back, a TV ad touted Life Savers as “a part of living.” In my childhood, the wheel-shaped candies seemed a part of loving. My mother carried a green-on-silver roll of Wint-O-Greens in her pocketbook. She kept the white mints for one purpose: to pull out during church and pass down the pew. Each of us children would peel back the wrap from one candy and hand along the ever-shortening coil. Mom would take one herself before slipping the remainder back in her purse. Even when I visited as a grown-up, if Mom forgot our ritual, during the sermon I would playfully tap her bag and silently tease, Please. And at her funeral, I distributed Wint-O-Greens—in memoriam—along the family rows.
Like mother, like daughter. This morning, as I settled in to listen to the sermon, I reached into my purse to retrieve a partial roll of Life Savers. When I didn’t find it in its usual compartment, I rummaged feverishly. I didn’t relax until my fingers grasped the misplaced mints. I slipped the familiarly shaped candy into my mouth. Of course I tasted the wintergreen flavoring. But today I also savored a suggestion of appreciation: for my mother and little kindnesses she afforded her children; for the family circle that remains unbroken, even though she has passed through this life to the next.
Lord, thank You for my mother’s many small gifts, which I choose to remember as circles of grace.
