Fake robbers

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It's been so long and I have missed this discipline of wringing out thoughts and sharing with friends. More on the last two weeks later. Today's prompt: identity. 

There are robbers of identity that don't take credit card numbers. They take pride and appearance and mental sharpness. And while young mothers think the teenage years are when kids search for identity, I 've watched the other end, where age and illness force grandmas to grab their identity tightly in clenched fists.  

Sweet. Endlessly patient. Indecisive. My mom is brave. The worst part of illness is the leisure at which it steals. Mom can't stand before a crowd to greet the mourners who file by at grandma's funeral without swaying. And, those face muscles, they don't move to show the appreciation she feels for kind words. But she keeps moving, mingling with the familiar history and the I've-heard-about-you-many-times-friends. 

Illness and death are fake robbers. Their loot isn't our identity. They act more like a sieve, removing the false places we use to measure our worth. We are children of God. And heirs of Christ. And no matter the circumstances, we are mothers and daughters. Always. 

I love you mom. Your bravery defies description.