For a starter, I literally owed her my life as she carried me in her womb. But every child can say that of his/her mother. In my case there is so much more that I am indebted to her. During the first twelve years of my life, she was the most significant influence on me. Aside from being my mother, she also became my teacher in the last two years of my elementary education.

Perhaps the most important thing she taught me is love for learning. Early on, she introduced me to books and I have been a life-long reader ever since. She showed me that reading enlarges the mind as it opens up unlimited vistas.

She disciplined me as a young boy, snuffing out destructive tendencies before they take root. At that time, I of course did not fully understand it. But later in life, I realized that without such discipline, my life could have taken an unwanted detour.

I became a Christian in my late teenage years and I (and others) shared the gospel to her. At first she resisted it. But like Lydia in the Bible, God opened her heart and she trusted in the Lord Jesus as her Savior. She was humble enough to listen to my preaching as young pastor. In spite of her prodigious intelligence, she willingly submitted herself to the teachings of the Bible. Since her conversion, she had served the Lord in various ways in the church. She became the mother of the members of our young congregation.

When our kids arrived, she became a doting grandmother. Our parents’ house became the summer vacation destination of all her nine grandchildren. She expressed her tender love to all of them in various ways, leaving them memories that will last a lifetime.

When her health gradually deteriorated as cancer and other ailments began to take its toll, she remained as welcoming and loving as ever. She had kind words to those who visited her. Her generosity remained unbounded.